The Unraveling Series™
You Called It Patience
FABLES V of VII
By Sandy Hoffman
First Cycle, 2026
You Called It Patience
FABLES V of VII
By Sandy Hoffman
First Cycle, 2026
She liked to think of herself as patient.
People said it often enough
That the word began to feel inherited.
She was patient with her mother's forgetfulness
That the word began to feel inherited.
She was patient with her mother's forgetfulness
Her husband's moods.
Her children when they tracked mud through the kitchen.
Her children when they tracked mud through the kitchen.
Patient at work.
Patient in lines.
Patient with the impossible.
Patient in lines.
Patient with the impossible.
It sounded noble.
Better than tired.
Better than afraid.
Better than what it was.
Better than afraid.
Better than what it was.
The first time the girl came to her with the truth
She listened without interrupting.
She listened without interrupting.
That was one of the things
She was proud of.
She was proud of.
Her listening face.
Stillness arranged carefully enough to resemble safety.
When the girl finished
She reached for her hand.
She reached for her hand.
"You have to understand," she said softly.
"He's under a great deal of pressure right now."
"He's under a great deal of pressure right now."
The girl said nothing.
She took this
At first
As respect.
At first
As respect.
Later, when the girl stopped bringing things to her,
She called it maturity.
She called it maturity.
Space.
A phase.
A phase.
Teenagers were private by nature.
Besides,
The house had become easier to manage.
Besides,
The house had become easier to manage.
No slammed doors.
No crying at dinner.
No scenes.
No crying at dinner.
No scenes.
Only a new quiet.
Thinner than the old one.
Thinner than the old one.
A quiet that seemed to step back whenever she entered.
As if making room for her not to notice it.
As if making room for her not to notice it.
She told herself she was preserving peace.
That was the word she preferred
When people asked how things were at home.
When people asked how things were at home.
Peaceful.
Even after the girl began spending longer hours away.
Even after her laughter changed.
Even after her laughter changed.
Becoming something brief and placed
Like a coat hung near the door.
Like a coat hung near the door.
Even after she started locking the bathroom
And standing at the mirror too long
With both hands flat against the sink.
And standing at the mirror too long
With both hands flat against the sink.
One evening
While folding laundry
She found a blouse she did not recognize.
While folding laundry
She found a blouse she did not recognize.
Not new.
Torn.
Torn.
Once cuff hanging by its threads.
A button missing at the throat.
A button missing at the throat.
She stood there, holding it.
Waiting for some simple explanation
To rise and save them both.
Waiting for some simple explanation
To rise and save them both.
Nothing came.
From down the hall, the girl's voice drifted
From behind the bedroom door.
From behind the bedroom door.
Low.
Careful.
Careful.
Speaking in that careful tone people use
When they are trying not to sound
As hurt as they are.
When they are trying not to sound
As hurt as they are.
No.
She was saying.
She means well.
She just always wants things calm.
She means well.
She just always wants things calm.
The mother folded the blouse anyway.
Smoothed the ripped sleeve.
Smoothed the ripped sleeve.
Matched the seams
As if they still belonged together.
As if they still belonged together.
At dinner
She said nothing.
She said nothing.
He spoke.
The girl chewed slowly.
The plates touched the table
With almost no sound at all.
The plates touched the table
With almost no sound at all.
Years later,
After the daughter had a home of her own
And only visited on certain holidays
She would stand in the guest room
And only visited on certain holidays
She would stand in the guest room
Before changing the sheets
She looked at the closet shelf
Where the blouse had sat for months
In a neat white stack.
Where the blouse had sat for months
In a neat white stack.
Washed.
Folded.
Returned to its place.
Folded.
Returned to its place.
As if waiting beside the wound
Were not another way
Of keeping it open.
Were not another way
Of keeping it open.
*
Sandy Hoffman, 2026.