Fiction: Turning Points #2

 

TWO

The boy stumbles back two, three steps and falls. His elbow feels like splinters as at makes contact with the concrete. Pain echoes through his arm and into his neck. The man stands above him, arm still extended.

'Why didn't you give him one back?' he asks his son. 

The driveway is a blister of reflected sunlight. The man has to squint.

The boy levers himself up, rubs his elbow. The pain increases. He doesn't move. He finds he can't because the anger has him.

The man, the father, takes note of his son's size. For the first time. He feels the sting of uncertainty.

'I did,' intones the son. 'Like you fucking told me to.'

A phone warbles. 

'Hello. Yeah. That me.' The son sees his father swivel his head slowly towards the street. 'What did you say?' His voice was a croak. 'In a coma?'

The boy is suddenly still.