Saturday, June 27, 2009

The Case

"I've got this case," Anna said, and instantly thought of her father.
That was the way he always began his discussions with her mother. He talked about the cases that troubled him, the cases that worried him, the cases that concerned him, more than any other detective she had known. Anna remembered coming into the kitchen or the living room late at night and finding her mother and father talking; her mother combing her hair or sipping ice water, her father, his socks off and his shirttails out, feet propped up on another chair, or on the footstool Anna had bought for him for Father's Day. His voice - softly, gently - emanating from his barrel chest - "I've got this case," he would begin.
Her mother would become still and quiet as though she didn't want to distract him. Everything she was doing, or might have intended to do, was pushed into oblivion, wiped away, as she gave her total attention to his story.
"I've got this case," Anna repeated, although this time, she paused, not knowing what to say next. A flood of emotions overcame her, and she silently wept for the man she loved, admired and missed. Her mother, although aged and frail, edged her way across the room to her and, tenderly wiping away the tear from Anna's face, said, "I know, dear, I know."

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