her father was a real schlemiel. a pest that tended to be horizontal when anything needed to be done around the house.
she insisted on calling him, ‘pater’. she said it was the only way to give him any respect; to assign him a fancy schmancy name, anything other than ‘dad’. he hated it, which made her use it all the more.
“ma,” she said, as her mother raked up huge piles of leaves, “ma, why did you marry him?”
her mother sighed, using the shovel to shift the leaves from ground into plastic bags, grimacing as she found the remains of a squirrel. “jessica, you need to understand. your father…oh! your father used to be a wonderful man, full of jokes and vigor and energy. he always accepted me for who i was, no questions asked. he loved me, allowed me to be who i am, gave me confidence. then, when bush, sr. was elected, well, he worried the country was going to the dogs, and took to the sofa to mope. later, when george w. was elected, he completely turned inward, giving up on all hope for mankind”
jessica held the black garbage bag open, turning her head from the bits of squirrel that was dumped in it’s depths. she pondered the reasoning behind the one time reason to love, then declared, “ma. that was then. this is now. what are your reasons now?”
stretching out, hand in the small of her back, her mother looked with unfocused eyes on the horizon for a few moments, glanced towards her prized lilac bush hedge.
“he knows where the bodies are buried.” she said, as she went back to her raking. “so, are you still dating that boy you met last month?”