A Family Affair

Dedicated to my Uncle and Aunt.

---

The phone's ringing.

What time is it?
3:00 AM. Who the hell's calling at 3:00 AM?

"Hello?"
"Mr. Krpec?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Krpec my name is Dr. Sanders. I work at the recovery center your son is residing in. I regret to inform you that he has passed away."
"What--?"
"I'll call you tomorrow with details. Goodbye."

The line dies. Dial tone.
I sit there for the longest, not moving, then I lie back in bed.
I'll tell Martha in the morning. Somehow. Somehow I'll tell her.
Oh God, Sam, what did you do?

***

The walls are all completely white.
No posters. No paintings. No color. White.
The coroner pulls back the sheet.

"Is this your son?"

Martha's screaming. Sobbing and shaking.
The first thing through my mind is that my son is blue.
His face. His chest. The veins in his arms and legs.
Blue.

"Yes. That's Sam. That's my son."

***

"Well, Mr. Krpec, it appears that your son suffered from an overdose of the medication we were using to wane him off his heroin addiction."
"You're telling me my son died from an overdose of a drug you were using in order to prevent him from overdosing on another drug?"
"That's correct."

My fists shake.

"How long was he like this?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I want to know how long my son lay choking on his own vomit until one of your caretakers decided to stroll in."
"Sir, I want you to know that I had no way of observing your son--"
"Tell me who was."

***

Martha's at my side. She's hiding her face.
The man is about Sam's age. He doesn't smile as we enter.

"Mr. Krpec. Mrs. Krpec."
"Mr. Stone."
"I want you to know that Sam was a good friend. Whatever happened. I'm sure it was an accident."
"Just tell me what happened to my son."

His eyes are red. Ragged.

"I was watching him."
"I know."
"He told me to leave. He...he wanted privacy. We respect our guest's privacy."
"Did he say anything?"
"No."
"Did he seem distant? Upset?"
"No."
"Anything at all?"
"Mr. Krpec, please."
"I need to know something."

He's shaking. We both are.

"Mr. Krpec. Please leave."
"I'm not done here."
"Leave now."
"What happened to my son?"

He picks up a bar stool and hurls it across the room. It shatters.

"Get the fuck out."
"What happened to my boy?"
"Get the fuck out."

I turn away from the man.
There were tears in his eyes.
I shut the door as I exit the room.

***

Martha stands across the room. I'm at the dinner table.
Letters of information are spilled across the floor and table top.
Martha breaks my concentration.

"Stop this."
"I can't."
"Stop!"

I glance in her direction for a moment, then turn back to my work.
Her hair is tussled. She's furious.

"Our son is dead! He's dead!"
"You think I don't realize that? You think I don't know?"
"I think you're looking for a way to hide from it all."
"There have been so many cases filed against this place--"
"Charlie, it's not their fault."
"They should have been watching our son!"
"It's not their fault. They didn't make Sam take the pills. They didn't make him use needles. It's not their fault. Why do you suddenly care so much?"

I turn to face her.

"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Everything! When did you ever tell our boy you loved him? When's the last time you told me you loved me? Why do you care so much now? Now that our son is dead?"
"I loved that boy!"
"Then why did you never show it? All the times you could have shown your love for him, for me!"
"Martha, stop this."
"Answer me!"

I slam my fist into the desk. Papers fly and drift to the ground below.

"Because...because I was afraid."
"Afraid? Afraid of what?"
"Afraid that if I grew to close to Sam, too near to anyone, that he would be taken from me."
"And yet our son is still gone."
"I know."

I want to weep. But my eyes are dry.

"Sam deserved better."
"He did. But in the end, this is what he got."
"He deserved so much better."

Martha turns and heads towards the bedroom.
She glances back once.

"Maybe his death was not an accident, Charlie. You have to consider it. Even I have. That maybe this was not an accident, but that either way, there was nothing we could do."

***

"Dad?"
"Yes, Samuel?"
"Want to play catch?"
"Not right now. I'm busy working."
"Then a little later?"
"Maybe. We'll see."
"Dad?"
"Yes, Samuel?
"I love you."
"I know...go outside and play. I'll be out when I'm finished. Just be patient."

That was a great story. Very. . . very touchy. I hope you write more to this story.

Hi Mike! Lin here. I decided this looked interesting, so I dropped in to read it! ^^

Now, let's get reviewing, darling.


Thoughts Lot's of thoughts are in this piece. Lots. It can get kinda confusing, so why not put those thoughts in italics? That way, it will be easier to tell that it is the MC thinking. And it will look nicer, too.

Like this --

The phone's ringing.

What time is it?
3:00 AM. Who the hell's calling at 3:00 AM?

That is the MC thinking, so just go ahead and put it in italics.

Short and Choppy For most of this piece, the lines are really short and it's mostly full of dialouge. This can leave out a whole lot from the readers: What emotions are the characters feeling, what's happening in the room, etc.

Instead of having just constant dialouge, try adding more description so we can see what's actually going on.

Like here --

"Well, Mr. Krpec, it appears that your son suffered from an overdose of the medication we were using to wane him off his heroin addiction."
"You're telling me my son died from an overdose of a drug you were using in order to prevent him from overdosing on another drug?"
"That's correct."

What's going on? Is Mr. Krpec pacing? Is his wife still crying? Is the man who is saying all this show any emotion?

See how much you are missing when you only have the dialouge? Try adding more, so we can see it!

Also, without more description, we can't tell who is talking sometimes. Or, what somebody is doing.

Like here --

He picks up a bar stool and hurls it across the room. It shatters.

Who is doing that? Is it the man? Is it the father? Who?


Characters I'm dying to know more about these characters. How was the boy on a heroin? We barely had any information on that. And the Dad. What did he do for a living?

We know that the Dad is very frustrated, angry, and confused. Great job on doing that, but what else? Can you give more of his thoughts to show us why he is feeling that way?

There is this huge mystery here that the readers are dying to know. What all is happening with the characters?

The Last Scene I love it. I absolutely love it. It's a great way to end this short story and it makes the reader really sad. But since it is a flashback, go ahead and put it in italics. That way we know for sure that it is a flashback.

But I love the way you did it. Great job!

The First Scene er, yeah.

"Hello?"
"Mr. Krpec?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Krpec my name is Dr. Sanders. I work at the recovery center your son is residing in. I regret to inform you that he has passed away."
"What--?"
"I'll call you tomorrow with details. Goodbye."

To me, this doesn't seem very realistic. I understand the place calling at three in the morning, but I don't think that it is realistic that he abruptly ended the call like that. Most of the time, they would keep talking instead of just hanging up.

Just wanted to point that out, dear.

Other stuffs From what you said at the very beginning, this probably means a lot. Maybe a symbolism for what your aunt and uncle are going through? Anyway, this is a very powerful message and I think that you came accross it really well. Adding some more description and having less choppy sentences will help make the story even better.

Good job and keep writing!

Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or comments about anything.

*Lin

Much of the piece is dialogue focused. And much is based on fact, including the three o'clock phone call play out. I chose to focus instead on the here and now, not on inner emotions, since I believe it was what my uncle and aunt wanted. I didn't want to judge their feelings. I understand the work is limited a bit in this scope, but it's the way they wanted the story written. I didn't wish to change it.

The man hurls the stool. There's only three people in the room, two are men, and one is the narrarator. Mr. Krpec wouldn't say "he picked up" if he was talking about himself.

Thanks alot for the review. Glad you enjoyed the piece. Especially the end, which is the part I'm most proud of.

The ending as well as the final half of the story after the broken chair is fabricated, but its a representation of how my uncle does feel. He just can't express it. He's a very closed off man, but he is at heart a good man, and I really hope he manages to pull through.