ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
...[B]eneath US the earth is trembling. Where can we place our fulcrum, even assuming that we possess the lever?... The thing we all lack is not style, nor the dexterity of finger and bow known as talent... Now, what we lack is the intrinsic principle, the soul of the thing, the very idea of the subject... Where is the heart, the verve, the sap?
-Gustave Flaubert to Louis Bouilhet, February 6, 1850 [December 2001]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1) Losing Life (Short Stories) A women finds herself in a strange place being held against her will. [672 words] [Thriller]
Sunday Drive Antony Berrios
SUNDAY DRIVE
By Antony Berrios
The sun dances off the windshield of the station wagon, pallets of greens, gold’s pass us on highway 101 going north up to San Francisco. Dad drives sitting be speckled with his Woody Allen like glasses. Mom sits up with him dressed in white pants, white shirt and white gardening hat. The breeze sends moms perfume into the back of the station wagon giving it a rose smell a safe smell. Mom and Dad bicker about the air conditioning. Dad wants to shut it off “It wastes gas”. He explains. Mom cries out. “God, really I’m melting. The kids are melting.” My sister works on a book of mad libs she blows her long brown hair away from her face every now and then. The windows all rolled down creating a vortex of wind blowing around us from time to time. The hot wind rapping its arms around my neck and tempting me to go out and run in the fields. I daydream and watch the scenery move by gold of the browned grass, silver of a long gas truck, green of trees all rush by. Mom turns on the radio. Elton John’s “Daniel” competes with the sound of rushing air and the passing of trucks. I catch my reflection in the window and pretend that I can fly. I race next to the car the hot wind blowing through my hair. I look at the passengers in the car and see my self and the family. I swoop down beside my dad. He smiles telling mother that he loves her. She grins and rests her head on his strong shoulder. I rise up above the car and swoop down next to my sister. She does her madlibs getting lost in her world. I wave to myself and feel happy.
Dad sees a Sambo’s restraunt coming up in the distance on the right. “Whata say we all grab some food?” My sister calls out. “I’m not hungry.” She doesn’t take her eyes off of her book. “Sounds great dad.” I chime in. “Oh Deb you need to eat somthin.” “No I don’t.” For a nine year old my sister had all the quick comebacks. I on the other hand was a shy twelve. We pull up to the restraunt and park. My stomach was growling. Mom opened up the door for us to get out. The air was hot and dry. Dad came up behind me as we walked to the restraunt and told me to walk straight. “Straight walk with you head high.” “I am.” I run off ahead of him. We all get into the restraunt and are seated in an orange vinyl booth. Barry Manilows ‘Mandy’ plays overhead. “I gotta use the bathroom.” I call out. “Me to.” My dad says and we go off to the bathroom. Mom tries to get Deb to look at a menu but she won’t. “You have to eat something.” “I don’t want to.” Deb wines. After me and dad finish in the bathroom he asks me to come out side for a sec. We walk around to the back of the restraunt. We overlook a ridge of mountains in the distance. A man tightens down tie lines to a small aluminum boat on the roof of his car.
“You’re getting older now.” He states. “Yep.” I say kicking a rock on the ground. “I am not going to be around as much, you know that?” “Yeah I know.” Kicking the rock off the ridge. “When will I see you.” I ask looking at the ground. “Well every other weekend is ours.” We walk over closer to the ridge. “Why do you have to go?” I ask. “Well sometimes Mommies and Daddies can’t live together, I’m still your father that’s not changing. And I’ll be a phone call away. “ “Well I don’t like it.” I exclaim. Dad laughs and rubs my head messing my hair up. “ I hate it to partner. Listen your going to be the man around the house.” “Do you still love mom?” “I’ll always love your mom.” I didn’t understand why he had to leave but to hear he still loved mom somehow made something inside my stomach feel better. Dad picked me up and turned me upside down. I laughed looking off at that ridge all eschewed. We walked back toward the restraunt to have something to eat.
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Really struck a cord in me about my parents. Very Raymond Carver like. Might need to proof read through but over all very solid emotions." -- John Saunders, New York, NY , USA.
"Moving story. Look forward to read more. Very real." -- Lori Harris, San Jose, CA, USA.
"Your story has really touched me. I'm rasing my kids alone and this was an all to real story. Great Talent!" -- Hope Lang-Teacher, New York, USA, NY.
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