Abraham

It was my father's birthday; he had just returned from Zimbabwe.

"Look at what they gave me, Bat," he declared, though, as always, I couldn't quite tell if the enthusiasm were entirely sincere, or whether it had a slightly ironic edge to it. My father received gifts, expressed emotions and expounded views with facility; it was a part of his upbringing, and to this day I did not know how he really felt about anything. I suspect he always assumed I read beneath the surface, and tacitly applauded the fact that, like him, I said nothing explicitly about what I saw there. But the truth was that I read nothing at all; the two of us shared an ignominious dignity, since on my part it was entirely undeserved. If he could only know how little I made of him, and how much more it was needful for him to say, even for me to begin to be his son.

I had not bought my father a present. Of course, I had vaguely intended to, and now that he was here it struck me suddenly: How long can this go on, my year on year indifference toward him? In fact, my indifference only seemed to make my father still more kindly and solicitous. And, again, I asked under my breath: What on earth is it that you *see* in me? Why should my happiness be of such importance to you? But it was too late to do anything about it now. I would always assume there would be another year to make amends, and, generally speaking, there would be. Until a decisive moment after which there would be no more years, and the decision would be taken out of my hands forever.

"It's the half-lily that was given to Abraham," he was saying, taking it out of its tissue paper. And, sure enough, a moment later I held up the small, fluted thing next to the red Stanley range in my mother's kitchen. It was a small and delicate thing, blown from fused transparent and green glass, and the flute had a characteristic kink -- a clear glass tongue that twisted completely over almost in self-severance, like a Rupert's Drop, as though the entire flower, its life, its history, even its meaning, had all been sworn to silence in every way possible.