Coercion by Lux Zakari Page A

silverware scraping against the brown daisy-patterned plates, teeth grinding and tearing at meat and the clock’s hopeless tick tock . Michael reached for his water glass and took a greedy gulp, nearly choking as he simultaneously drank and swallowed a scream of frustration. He put down his glass, his hands trembling with the urge to throw it against the faded yellow wallpaper just to hear a noise.
    “How’s school going?”
    Michael gave a small start at the sound of his father’s voice, creaky from an evening of silence. He masked his surprise with a halfhearted shrug and continued to guide his peas around the circumference of the daisy.
    “Did you learn anything?” his father asked, only to receive another indifferent shoulder lift. He exhaled a heavy sigh before asking gently, “Michael, were you even there?”
    Michael dropped his fork and it skittered across the plate, breaking the tense hush permeating the room. “I thought we were having dinner. If I’d known it would turn into an interrogation followed by a guilt trip, I would’ve made other plans.”
    His father shook his head. “I hope you know college isn’t free. If you were just going to waste my money, I’d wished you’d have joined the military like I’d first suggested.”
    “This is some light dinner conversation, Reverend.” Michael folded his arms and leaned into the table. “Mind if I introduce a topic? When are you going to get rid of that ?”
    Michael nodded to a framed photograph hanging in a cluster of many on the wall. It showed a young, light-haired woman bundled inside her giant winter coat and standing amid melting piles of snow. A knit cap half-hid her short, curled hairstyle and her smile stretched wide across her face as her gloved hands pressed against her pregnant abdomen.
    His father steepled his fingers over his nose and closed his eyes. “I like that picture. It makes me happy.”
    “Well, I’m sick of looking at it. I don’t even know that person, and now neither do you. Why do you keep pictures around of people we don’t even know?”
    His father’s dark eyes fluttered open to look at Michael quizzically before his gaze turned to the photograph. “I think everyone needs to surround themselves with the things and people they love, don’t you?”
    Michael snorted. “Not if those things and people don’t love you. I don’t pretend to know what love is, but she sure didn’t feel it for you.”
    His father’s eyebrows narrowed in surprise, and the sickle-shaped crease between his eyes deepened further. “Your mother and I were very much in love.”
    “Right. Her leaving was an indicator of that.”
    “She was a very troubled young woman.” His father gave a hard swallow. “No matter how much I loved her, I have to trust God had a better plan for her.” He fixed his gaze on his son. “I forgave her, Michael. It’s time you do the same. You only hurt yourself when you hold a grudge.”
    “You’re right.” Michael’s breathing increased. “I’m being so unreasonable.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Why should I be pissed at the woman who forgot to pick me up from school because she was too busy getting ready to leave and never be heard from again?”
    The phone rang in the kitchen. Michael shook his head and remained in his seat. “It’s for you.”
    “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” His father pressed his palms on the tabletop and rose to his feet. “You used to be happy.” He shuffled into the kitchen, and Michael poked his mashed potatoes as he listened to his father greet the caller. He made a hole in the center of the potatoes and scooped a few peas inside, all the while trying to control the panic in his chest.
    His father returned. “Actually, it’s for you.”
    * * * *
    Valerie threaded the telephone cord between her fingers and tried to swallow her heart, which seemed to be stuck somewhere in her throat. She shook as the ringing lasted for what seemed like hours