Young Writers Society

    "Tell me what he was like," she demanded.

     They were in her grandmother's truck, backing out of the driveway. Danara winced as they narrowly avoided a scrape with the rusty old mailbox sitting at the edge of the street. Agatha wasn't the best driver in the world.

     "I told you, didn't I?" Her moment of talkativeness was gone, and Aggie was all pursed lips and silence. "He was dreamy. Didn't like me. What else is there to know?"

     Danara stared at her, eyes wide. What else was there to know? Everything, she wanted to scream. Why did he have to die? Why didn't he like her grandmother? Did he ever say he loved her? There were so many questions she had, but when she tried to talk, a lump rose in her throat and she had to swallow hard.

     They continued driving, passing scenic forests and fields. Danara gazed out the window blankly, staring at the landscape passing by. They swept by a couple of massive trees, their trunks taking up the span of their two windows.

     After a few moments, her grandmother looked over at her, gaze softening. "Ah, I suppose that was a silly question. You do want to know more, don't you?"

     Danara nodded vigorously.

     "Okay. It's quite a long story. I surely can't tell it in one day, there are just too many details to know. There's a lot of information that's entwined in the story, Danara." 

     She didn't care. She wanted to know more. Her mother, for some reason, had never told her much. At her house, there were pictures, but only a few. Her father was a mystery in her life that had never been unraveled, like a giant knot that Danara had the job of untangling. I suppose I need some help, then, she thought to herself.

     "Can't say I didn't warn you," Aggie said gruffly. They pulled along the side of the street, on a hill overlooking a glistening lake. 

     Serene water lapped against the bottom of the hill. The water was clear and a slight bluish-green. A thin path wound around the perimeter of the lake, ending at a sloping boardwalk leading to the top of the hill where they were parked. It was lovely... but Danara had other things to worry about. She had to focus.

     They got out slowly, not without some complaints about arthritis from her grandmother's part, and after many impatient seconds they made their way down the hill and began walking around the lake. While they walked, Agatha began talking.

     "Your mother, Abby, used to be very much like you. She was quite headstrong sometimes--" At this, Danara bristled, but Aggie waved it off with a laugh, and she relaxed again. "--and she always knew what she wanted. A businesswoman-like child, just like her career now. Sometimes she wasn't satisfied with where she was; most of the time she pushed for more.

     "I raised her an independent woman, a person able and resourceful. Of course, most women were viewed as helpless at the time, and I never let Abby see that stereotype for as long as she was with me. She didn't rely on men to provide happiness, that is."

     Agatha continued on about Danara's mother, and Danara about glazed over. This wasn't what she had wanted. She had wanted information about her father. But she had interrupted only once, to ask where her father fit into all this, and Aggie had snapped, "I'm getting to that part, although I never will if you interrupt me for questions like that!"

     So Danara remained silent and listened to knowledge about her mother that she didn't want to know.