Disconnection

“Mama, where did Papa go?”

“What do you mean? Papa’s upstairs.”

“But I haven’t seen him in the house at all this week.”

“No, I’ve seen him. Anyways, dinner’s ready, go ask your father to come down.”

Troubled, he obeyed his mother and turned towards the stairs. This is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. Pausing at the bedroom door, he sighed. He knew that no matter how many times he knocked, no one would answer. There is no one in the room.

Slowly, he dragged himself back to the dinner table. He sat down and looked at the lavish meal- it was too lavish, enough for 3 people.

Knowing that it’s pointless to say anything, he grabbed his pair of cutlery and started eating his share of the delicious food.

“It’s delicious as always, Mama.”

“Of course it is,” His mother replied proudly, “eat lots of it."

He managed a weak smile at her, before lowering his head back down, pretending to focus on his food so that he does not have to look at her, nor the extra plate and cutlery set beside him.

"Darling, try some of the fish.”

He continued eating his meal. He knew that his mother was spooning some of the fish into the third plate placed before the empty chair beside him.

“And some of the soup too…”

The food had become tasteless and he can no longer eat anymore. Feeling as if the food he had just swallowed has formed a lump in his throat, he silently put down his utensils and wiped his mouth.

“I’m full”

“You sure honey? There’s also some desert in the fridge, go help yourself.”

Smiling wryly, he left the table.

Before he knew it, he plunged himself face-first into his bed. Squeezing the pillow tightly, he mumbled into the cotton sheets,

“Mama, when will you understand that he’s dead?”