Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash
by David Yourdon
Due to a signal problem ahead, the train switches tracks and winds into the wet countryside, destination unknown. My mother, clutching her purse, chooses this occasion to tell me that that man I thought was my father is not, whereas the man I thought was my uncle is actually my father. I choose this occasion to tell her that the girl she thought was my girlfriend is not, whereas the boy she thought was my friend is actually my boyfriend.
We have always despised each other, my mother and I, in an almost mythical fashion. I doubt that what she told me is true. I wonder if what I told her will, one day, be true.
__________
David Yourdon is a writer based in Canada. His stories have appeared in SmokeLong Quarterly, HAD, Peatsmoke Journal, and elsewhere.
