by Jon Olson
The house was silent.
James’ wife Kate was in bed, no longer nagging him while his son slept quietly in his room. His cries had a way of penetrating deep into James’ head.
Sitting on the shitty brown couch his in-laws had given them as a wedding present, James enjoyed the silence.
Then his father spoke.
“Is that kid of yours going to cry tonight?”
James talked to his father every night, whether he wanted to or not; he always told James how to live his life.
The old man was more overbearing now than when he was alive.
“No, he’s not,” James replied.
“Yes, he will.”
Ignoring his father, he tried to find something decent to watch until Kate called from their bedroom.
“Honey, the air conditioner cut out again! Can you come take a look at it?”
“Tell her to suck it up,” the old man spat. His lifeless eyes blinked at his son as his crooked lips spread into a grin. “Or are you going to give in to her again?”