WIP: Sons 2

See more Works in Progress by clicking on the tab or here.

Well y’all, it’s been a while since I shared a piece of writing, so here’s one! And, it’s interactive. I have two possible endings for this particular part of the story, so please weigh in, 1 or 2, in the comments.

The usual WIP disclaimer: Work in Progress, or WIP, posts are excerpts from open writing projects.  All writing is my own and in the rough draft phase. Take it (but don’t actually take it, copyright me and all that) for what it is!  

Also check out a previous excerpt from Sons.

“I live in perpetual fear of the phone ringing. It rings and my body goes rigid. I can feel the stress hormones pumping themselves through my body as a shaky hand picks up the phone. I need to take a deep breath just to push past the psychological barrier and actually force the physical movements – just a thumb swipe — to happen. Whenever the voice on the other end doesn’t say ‘Mrs. Singer, we’re sorry to tell you that your son has overdosed,’ it’s a relief. Do you know what it’s like to live like that?

No good comes from it ringing.”

A silence, like that which is appreciated after a fireworks show — after the bombastic, breathtaking and overwhelming pyrotechnics are finished and the quiet peacefulness is appreciated — followed. This was all that she had kept buried inside; all that she had been trying her hardest not to say, because to put it to words might somehow make it real. Like she is a witch, able to conjure real-life events from her mere thoughts.

Her chest heaved heavily, as though she had just run a marathon and a bit of a burden had been lifted. Her eyes sparked with fire of the lingering thoughts. And as her breathing slowed, she began to calculate how everything she just said may have affected the delicate tightrope she walks now. In looking around, she found that she was still in homeostasis.

She adjusted her shirt, pulling down at the bottom and smoothing it down her legs. With one final deep breath, she moved to the sink and picked up a dirty dish, and it was over.

OR

With one final deep breath, she said to the group of parents also in the circle, “I’m Sarah Singer and my son is in active addiction.”

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