Burning linoleum clings to the nostrils like damp fabric to the skin. It is an unshakeable, sharp, acrid, and chemical fume with a synthetic odor of something unnatural breaking down. It has a mix of plastic-like fumes and an rubbery undertone, as if the very chemical seams holding it together were unraveling in the heat. It evokes a sense of danger or urgency that requires a brief search for smoke or flame. And the stench lingers long after the flames have been extinguished seeping into the air and memories alike.
Fried chicken was meant to be dinner that night, but it never came to be. After burning down the kitchen, the very thought of eating, or even cooking, felt out of reach. That afternoon, after school, I rushed through my homework so I could spend time with my baby niece, who lived with us along with my brother and his wife. We curled up on the couch, her tiny body nestled on my chest as we watched television. When she finally drifted off to sleep, I gently carried her upstairs and settled her into her crib.
My parents would be home around 6:00 or 6:30 that night. Of course, as a veteran latch key kid, I had mastered the art of self-sufficiency, patching the gaps where parents might normally step in. I was accustomed to an empty house. To be honest, the house wasn’t filled with any more sound with them there…the silence between all of us filled every room, even when they were home. I helped out where I could to keep the peace. I mean, what do you say to two adults acting like children that have not broken the silence in years?
“Pass the salt?”
Indeed, it is straightforward, unbothered, and void of ceremony. It skips the heavy lifting of awkward small talk and jumps directly to the kind of casual familiarity that says, I could hold a grudge, but honestly, I’m just trying to eat. It’s not an olive branch, it’s a salt shaker. Simple, necessary, and just enough to break the silence without opening old wounds or inflicting new ones. Because sometimes, the best way to bridge years of silence is to pretend they never happened and hope no one asks about the smell of burning linoleum lingering in the air, right?
Muddled Soma 