The Chair

The children did not wait for the mother to speak, but the eldest son, for he was the man of the house now, and there were no objections allowed from anyone, including himself. Carter Times was a simple-minded sort, yet painfully aware of the inevitability of the situation. “There are five seats by the dinner table,” he finally said after clearing his throat. “Why is it that we cannot sit in our original seats?”

“Why, Carter,” the mother wept, “But that chair is right across me, on the far side of the table. I would not like to see it empty.”

“I suggest we throw it out,” suggested the second child, for she did not understand how they could support the notion of constantly seeing an object that evoked so much pain. “It is just a chair.”

The youngest, Grayson Times, did not look at her when he disagreed. “Speak sympathy or do not speak.” When the girl piped down, he stared at the chair, then at his mother. “I shall sit down.”

“You shall not,” answered the mother.

“Now, this is simply ridiculous!” cried the girl. “We are searching for a solution! And now, the one person who should tell us the solution is, in fact, avoiding it. Quite well, I may point out.” The Times household did not have an answer for her remarks, for they could not fathom who she was referring to in the first place.

“We are grieving!” said Carter, quite defensively.

“My dear brother, the chair is not dead.”

The mother paused her sobs to evaluate which of her two sons should move to her former husband’s chair. She swept her hands, crying, “Quite a predicament!”

The girl started placing the plates on the table. “Then I suggest you purchase a dog and train him to sit; our turkey is getting cold over this preposterous debate.”

Grayson scoffed, fingertips sliding over the wood. “There is only one able to sit on the chair, and only one willing to.”

“Then you are gullible,” said the girl, “For you believe the two are the same.”

“Silence!” shouted Grayson, his hands slamming on the table. “This discussion has been extended for too long! The chair is empty, and I take up space.”

“So do I,” said Carter.

“Since when were you willing?” asked the youngest, and Carter did not reply.

“If there is no one worthy, there is no one worthy.” The girl finished plating the table. “Now, make your choice, or we shall send it by the garbage before dinner begins.”

“I shall sit!” demanded Grayson. “I am worthy!”

“You are young!” yelled Carter.

“And you are not? You are young, my brother, just not compared to me.”

“That is off the point.”

“Oh,” cried the mother. “I have made my choice! There has always been one choice! Carter shall sit across from me now, in the once-empty chair. I’m sure your father would be proud of the decision.”