Referential 2012, Literary Essay Sample

This was the third time in three years we talked about what would be a suitable birthday for my deranged son. This was because we were only allowed to bring to him so little as he would turn anything to a weapon and so we had to leave everything at the front desk where prominent blond aide would bring them in a per request after looking for their wounding possibilities (In Strout & In Pitlor, 2013). This time around, Pete had brought a basket jam in a glass jar and this too would not b allowed in. I thought the flowers were arranged in a manner that they showed the urine test of a very ill person but I knew they too would be confiscated.

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Pete has been in our lives for about eight years, and when my son was twelve years old and had begun his dazed and spell-bound muttering, no longer brushing his teeth, Pete had been in our lives for four years. Our love for Pete had its up and downs, and we thought of him as more of a stepfather. We were all older, but it mostly showed on me because once my son was stripped and gowned and place in the facility, I removed all the ornaments I wore as a sign of solidarity with my son. Pete had stopped telling me how beautiful I looked. Pete had lost his job in the economic downturn, and at some point, he wanted to live with me but was pulled back by my son's deepening troubles. I no longer knew where he went, even for weeks and I would grow hungry for a touch which I would solve by going to the Stressed Tress Salon to have my hire washed.

When I visited without Pete, my son would ask about his whereabouts. The arms of my son had cutting scars due to the mutilation he did on his body. He would cut his body which included the hands and the bottom of his feet. When we sat at the visitor's table, I would see the sweetness in my son's eyes, and I realized his hair had been cut (In Strout & In Pitlor, 2013). My son asked Pete where he has been, whether he missed us and whether he thought of me. In all these, he answered some and ignored some. My son expressed to Pete the cruelty of nature and told him that we are always around to be found to which point I interjected him. We talked about the party we would have in the afternoon the headed home with Pete.

On our way home, we did not talk with Pete, but I would not fail to realize that he had as well aged. Once my son started cutting himself, there was always blood to be mobbed. There was a storm in front of us with lightning. Once we arrived at the house, I offered him some vodka to drink and that time I realized the photos I had attached to the refrigerator. As we sipped the vodka, I informed him of my intention to bring my son home the following day and requested him to be there to which he replied with anger. At that moment the telephone rang and when I picked it, the person calling hanged up. Then it rang for the second time the hanged up when I picked it, but I told Pete that someone was calling from his apartment. He stood up to leave, went for the doorknob and as I tried to kiss him, he moved his head, and my mouth landed on her ear. "Bye Mania," he said and left.

The telephone rang for the third time, and I walked to the kitchen to take my reading glasses as I could not read without them. I answered the phone without knowing what would burst forth but there was nothing at all.

References

In Strout, E., & In Pitlor, H. (2013). The best American short stories 2013: Selected from U.S. and Canadian magazines.