The sun dances with the punch in the punch-bowl and makes the glassware gleam. The tables are spread for a feast, arrayed with every sort of food. Gifts are piled on the floor. Little groups of people sit together, talking.
A young man sits at one of the tables, surrounded by chatting friends. He wears a square tasseled cap and a robe; this is his day. The food and gifts are for him, and the guests celebrate him.
Someone says something to him. He smiles. A dull smile without joy, more of habit than of pleasure. On a plate in front of him sits an untouched piece of cake. He isn’t hungry for it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. It is the only thing that matters.
Guests chatter and laugh, but it is not real mirth, because they know. Everyone knows. They want him to think they don’t, to try and imagine that it isn’t real, but when they think he isn’t looking they whisper and nod and look at him pitifully.
He looks at his sister. She is the only real one. The only one who doesn’t pretend that it isn’t there. She is strong. She needs to be strong, to keep them both from being crushed.
She will not smile. She will not cry. Her brown hair sways as she talks, and her glittering hair net is a thousand sparkles, each a tiny rainbow on the wall.
Except rainbows come after storms.
A clock ticks. One second closer to It. Soon the guests will leave, and they can wait for It alone.
He looks down and sees a spider crawling up his chair. He squashes it under his thumb and looks away, and wonders how many spiders there will be in Vietnam?
- Author notes
- This is a piece of flash fiction I wrote a long time ago for a contest. I had to include a rainbow and a spider. There may have been other elements, too, but I don't remember them. The story title is a quote from USA president Lyndon Johnson.
- Story length
- short story
