Member-only story
SHORT FICTION
Furniture Fights
My Stepmother Is Very Demanding When It Comes To Furniture
I drop in on Dad and Linda, in their new home. Dad answers the door.
“You’ve caught us in the middle of an argument,” he warns as he hugs me.
“About what?” I ask, as if I don’t know.
“Furniture,” he says darkly.
Uh-oh. Another furniture fight.
“The problem,” my father says, “is that now that Linda and I have married and combined our two households, we’ve got two sets of patio furniture and only one patio.”
“His and Hers?” I joke.
Dad doesn’t smile. Furniture, for him, is no laughing matter.
Linda, an interior designer, is obsessed with furniture. She thinks about it all the time. She will discuss at great length any room, even a shabby doctor’s waiting room, or even once, so help me, a Greyhound station. She analyzes each “piece” and its placement with respect to the rest of the room’s furniture, and particularly, the entire room’s “potential.”
Once you get her on the topic, which is about as tough as dropping a hat, she won’t shut up until you run screaming from the room. Which, to be realistic, is rarely one of your options.
