Photo Story: A Family on Stage
Dad enters stage left, and his voice is louder than the television. He points his syllables accusingly. He says it’s like he’s soliloquising; none of us ever hears him.
Mum’s exit stage right says it all.
He paces the room.
We should remain taciturn. Not our turn.
We know the script. He begins his speech. It is a rambling, repetitive mess.
My sister breaks from her role. Interrupts. She says my name; his fist slams into the side of her head for this attempt at upstaging.
I improvise the part of nurse. Even though I am squeamish, I can act.
A horrific story told in such a matter of fact fashion makes the telling even more powerful. I will read this over and over.