Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
The Six O’Clock Call
At six o’clock she turned down the stove, picked up the receiver of the yellow phone on the kitchen wall and dialed the number of the place her son was living.
She could hear the guy at the desk yell down the hall, telling her son that his mother was on the phone. “Come and talk to your mother. Tell her about your day.”
Long minutes passed. She listened to papers rustling and the distant voices of other boys. Every night she came to the point of deciding to hang up and call again. Why does it take so long? Every night I call at the same time. Wouldn’t he expect me to call?
Finally, her boy came on the phone. “Hi Ma,” he whispered and she could sense his head bent over the phone and see him looking down at his shoes. “I was on green all day.”
A green day was better than a yellow one or, certainly, a red one. Being on green meant that he’d done what was expected, obeyed all the rules, participated in group, agreed to his imprisonment. He hadn’t struggled like he had on so many other days, the ones when he reported that he was on yellow and gave his story, always of the most minor of infractions, of why his name had the yellow magnet next to it. If he was on red, he couldn’t tell the story because he wouldn’t be allowed to talk to his mother or anyone else. He’d be alone in his room.
“That’s good, honey. I’m proud of you. Stay on green tomorrow, ok? I’ll call you tomorrow. Stay on green.”
She turned up the stove so the water would boil for the pasta. The sauce, out of a jar, was just starting to simmer. The night would pick up where it left itself before the call, everyone closing around to fill the hole.
They could sit at the kitchen table now because there was one less person. The dining room stayed dark most nights. The little table in the kitchen nook was just fine, symmetrical. It made dinner cozy and peaceful, protected and safe. And very quiet.
Loading the dishes into the dishwasher, she asked the same question as every night. By now it had become her secret catechism, “Did we do the right thing? Yes, we did the right thing. Did we do the right thing? Yes, we did the right thing.”
“Did we do the right thing?”
______________________________________
This piece was written in response to a Write on Edge prompt to write 400 words relating to a choice or consequence of a choice.
22 Comments on “The Six O’Clock Call”
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
This is a perfect example, a model for a personal essay. Great writing. You say just enough to get the camera in my mind rolling.
That’s such a wonderful comment to see. I try to be spare in my writing. Sometimes it just ends up being brief. With that piece, though, I think it worked. Thank you for reading it and telling me what you think.
I love your opening line – “the place where her son was living.” It’s great – I was intrigued right away, knowing the place where he was living was a place the mother was not happy about. Very cool.
I also love your ending paragraph – I can picture her loading a dish, asking the question, loading a dish, answering the question.
Well done!
Thank you. I’m learning from people’s comments how to have a more critical eye about what I write and what I read. What caught your eye is really interesting. Thanks so much.
Oh, I really liked this. It gave just enough info about the choice and consequences to keep me interested and wanting more.
Thank you!
I love the description of waiting for the son to come to the phone. No matter how long it takes, that silence always seems to take forever. The repetition at the end was perfect to show the need for validation. Great job!
I third the advice to edit the “dialed” line. This was beautifully written. Thank you.
Yep – it looks so obvious looking back at it. I’m definitely taking the extra out. Thanks.
Well done! It has me wanting more as well. I love when I read something and it sticks with me and leaves me wondering. Thank you.
Thank you – I’m glad it stuck with you. 🙂
I agree. Take out anything after the word dialed in the first line. You show the rest of what you say there so beautifully in the scene it doesn’t need to be told in that first line. I’d love to know more about the details of the choice that is so obviously painful to the mother. Great job.
Thanks Wisper. Good advice.
Beautiful piece, I could feel the pain. You write lovely. http://jemcogdell.blogspot.com/2012/05/moonshine-and-outhouses.html
Thank you so much. I’m printing out your comment and tacking it on my wall. Hope that’s ok with you. 🙂
Did my earlier comment post?
That was lovely! What a choice/consequence conundrum!
I really enjoyed: “The little table in the kitchen nook was just fine, symmetrical. It made dinner cozy and peaceful, protected and safe. And very quiet.”
Your word choice of “symmetrical” tells so much – It amplifies your character’s inner struggle: sure, the table is even, but is that good (“symmetrical” is such a cold word)? It pairs nice with “and very quiet” – again I see how your main is character is of two minds about this idea – quiet is good, but is it?
In terms of concrit, I would like to know just a little about who else is filling out this table? Is it just
the parents of the boy? Or are there a pair of siblings too?
Overall, I thought it was great.
🙂
Thank you for taking the time to help me with this piece. This is the first time I’ve gotten really concrete suggestions from readers and it’s been so helpful. Thanks again.
This piece broke my heart. What an awful decision to have to make due to another’s choices!!
I loved the way it played out. The only concrit I have is with your opening. I’d tighten that up a bit and delete everything after dialed. The way you unfold the story, it’s not necessary and would add just at touch of foreshadowing.
Overall, loved this piece and the details of the sauce, the phone, the kitchen table, the quiet.
What would you delete — how much after dialing? Thanks for your comment and the suggestion.
Oh, very intriguing. Is this part of an ongoing story? I’d be interested to read more.
No, it’s just sort of a moment in time at this point. Not sure where I would take it.