It'll Ruin your Appetite

[mugatu668]

[Note: This story is based on a true happening. Actually, it happened no more than an hour ago. I have no formal writing experience, or education, but the story wrote itself in my head. As it replayed itself, constantly, jumping from scene to scene, I wondered if I ought to write it. I decided that I should write this story in order to remember what happened, and not the feeling of it (often in situations like these I will only remember vaguely what happened, but I will remember the feeling strongly. I hope you enjoy it and I would love criticism (about anything to do with writing. I'm very interested in it and I often feel like I am not expressing myself properly.)]

My father is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. My parents are divorced, and I go over to his house every other weekend. He doesn't really have any friends who he hangs out with outside of work, but he has a girlfriend who he's been seeing for a while. He has a hell of a temper, though.

I had almost forgotten about it until today.

It had been a nice weekend. I was hanging out with my friends for most of it, but we watched a movie Saturday night and we were planning to watch another movie tonight. My grandma called my father back, though, saying she would like to eat dinner. Neither of us were hungry because we had eaten a late lunch only a few hours earlier; but we felt compelled to visit my grandma because she is getting older and loves to see us.

On the way to the Chinese restaurant my grandmother said in the car, “So, today I read an article about why the Sunnis and Shiites exist as two different Muslim groups. Apparently, when Mohammad died there was disagreement. One side wanted to choose the best leader to replace him, and another side wanted one of his relatives to take over.” She laughed. “Oh jeez, can you believe that's what they're fighting over today.”
“Well, people will find a reason to fight over just about anything,” my father said. It is such a trademark comment from my father. He is fascinated with human nature.
In the car she told him jokingly, “By the way, you owe me two bills! I hate owing people money.” She bought him a birthday present, but he ordered it online and hadn't sent her the bill.
“Can I just enjoy my present without getting hen-pecked to death?” he said.
At first I thought it was just a joking way of telling her that he didn't mind paying for it. Only seconds later, the memory of his temper came back to me. He was going to get angrier no matter what she said. It's the angry mind at work.
“Well,” she said in such a kind voice. She was trying her hardest to avoid confrontation. “I just think it's logical that you don't have to pay for your birthday present.”
“And I think it's logical that I should get to enjoy it! Why don't I just go home and open it so I can find the bill and give it to you?”
She was chuckling in that nervous way that people often do. The way that people do when they are unsure of something, or nervous about something, or ignoring the seriousness of something, or a mixture of the three. I was sitting, staring out the window with a nervous smile.
Trying to break the tension, she asked, “Well, have you opened it?” She hadn't heard him well.
“Didn't I just say I haven't opened it yet?”
Meanwhile he was accelerating and speeding around like a lunatic.
“Oh I'm sorry. I didn't hear that.”
“Well, what did you hear?”
He was being such an [censored]. She wears a hearing aid and he was looking for any reason to get pissed off at somebody.
“I'm sorry. I just heard something about opening.”
The rest of the ride was silent.

When we parked at the Chinese restaurant, he said, “You know, I'm not even hungry.” In an exasperated voice.
As we were approaching it, we were about to walk in and he said “The line is so long.”
I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but I walked in with my grandma and he waited outside.
“Is he really angry?” She asked in such a concerned voice.
“Yeah. I think he's stressed out from all the traveling he's been doing.”
“Well, let's go back outside. No sense in eating if he isn't hungry.”
The car ride back was silent, but I found it strangely soothing.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he parked the car in front of her condo building.
“I'm sorry if I upset you today.”
“Don't be. You have no reason to be sorry. It's just, I'm sick of hearing people complain to me all day. I just need a break. For once this week, I'm just going to do what I want to do; go home and be by myself.”
“Alright, well bye. I love you.”
“I love you too, mom.”
When we were driving out, he said to me, “See, even I can behave like a two year old.”
It gave me a genuine smile. He always had a knack for saying just the right thing in a high-tension situation—when he wanted to.

As he was driving me back to my mom's house, we passed a mosque. I smiled for a different reason than before.