Dad Quotes in Whirlpool
You all waited, silent, braced for the rest.
“There isn’t a single shot,” she added with finality, “where we don’t all look dreadful.”
And you thought, all, seeing your mothered centred there in the pictures, gripping her two girls, your father nowhere—just a peripheral shadowy shape, stretched thin.
“It’s bad enough we haven’t even got a proper in-ground one and you girls have to put up with that stupid thing that should have been thrown out years ago,” she adds. She turns to you then, extending her arm to take you in, watching you. “He’s absolutely obsessed, isn’t he?”
You feel yourself nod and smile again; a sickly, traitorous smile of concurrence.
She turns sunnily to your father. “We met them while we were on the cruise, didn’t we, darling?”
That word in your mother’s mouth, the way she looks your father in the face to say it, her touch on his arm as she goes past, makes something turn over in your stomach, cold and glassy. You shudder. You can’t help it.
“I put the hose in the pool for you,” he says in a low voice. “We’ll let it fill up a bit more, eh? So it’s all ready.”
Your mother hears. “Robert, do you think we could forget about that dinky little pool just for five short minutes?” Her voice is almost breathless with forced breeziness.
You witness the opposing forces of charm and chill collide in your mother as she’s caught of guard. She hesitates, then says hurriedly, “Yes, yes, of course,” and there it is, you’re sure of it now; you glimpse in that moment her wire-tight thoughts running ahead, grim with the need to plot exile and allegiance, the constant undertow shift of churned, compliant water.
Dad Quotes in Whirlpool
You all waited, silent, braced for the rest.
“There isn’t a single shot,” she added with finality, “where we don’t all look dreadful.”
And you thought, all, seeing your mothered centred there in the pictures, gripping her two girls, your father nowhere—just a peripheral shadowy shape, stretched thin.
“It’s bad enough we haven’t even got a proper in-ground one and you girls have to put up with that stupid thing that should have been thrown out years ago,” she adds. She turns to you then, extending her arm to take you in, watching you. “He’s absolutely obsessed, isn’t he?”
You feel yourself nod and smile again; a sickly, traitorous smile of concurrence.
She turns sunnily to your father. “We met them while we were on the cruise, didn’t we, darling?”
That word in your mother’s mouth, the way she looks your father in the face to say it, her touch on his arm as she goes past, makes something turn over in your stomach, cold and glassy. You shudder. You can’t help it.
“I put the hose in the pool for you,” he says in a low voice. “We’ll let it fill up a bit more, eh? So it’s all ready.”
Your mother hears. “Robert, do you think we could forget about that dinky little pool just for five short minutes?” Her voice is almost breathless with forced breeziness.
You witness the opposing forces of charm and chill collide in your mother as she’s caught of guard. She hesitates, then says hurriedly, “Yes, yes, of course,” and there it is, you’re sure of it now; you glimpse in that moment her wire-tight thoughts running ahead, grim with the need to plot exile and allegiance, the constant undertow shift of churned, compliant water.
