The child looked up at me with deep brown eyes and asked me for my cell phone.
How his father watched him with discord for this learned behavior.
His mother sat on the couch and tapped on a screen, looking up only when the child did something silly.
The father brought out some pudding and tried to feed his son.
I grabbed a toy phone and answered "hello!?" To an empty line.
"Yes!" I said as the child looked back up at me.
"It's for you," I stated, handing him a piece of plastic which would have his attention for about 14 seconds.
I felt so much tension in the air as his mother left the room to have a cigarette and asked me to join her,
Though I did quit for a reason.
These people are my friends, so why didn't this feel like a friendly encounter? I noted this subtly.
The father doesn't know his son very well, I also noted.
The father doesn't want to be here, I noted again.
I noted many things.
If the notes were material I would have paper filling my pockets.
The mother and I caught up; i haven't seen her in years.
I noted that she was trying hard to prove something, but I couldn't tell what it was.
I noted that the father was feeling uncomfortable in the next room.
When my lungs were tired of the cigarette smoke, I moved into the next room which wasn't much better, I noted again.
The child hit his head and I immediately reacted, rubbing the side of my own skull. He hits his head a lot, I realized, seeing the bruise at the very top of his forehead.
The goodbyes were short and disingenuous. I almost hesitated leaving.
I have to say something, I thought.
But my mouth was shut.
The child isn't my child, and the friends are hardly friends.
After the interaction I reflect, thinking on all the things I couldn't see with my physical eyes.
And I wonder what I can do to help that child.
The answer is,
be there.