The Imposter


The Imposter

I suspected my father was an imposter the day he accepted and smoked a cigarette. We were staying with distant cousins at their strange lakeside house. That my mother would behave differently was predictable – lipstick a deeper pink, laugh shrill. But my father.

Back home he still wore his old summer shirt, with the open weave that looked like a dish-cloth, but I kept vigil through eight-year-old eyes.

Later, at a faraway airport I watched as my new husband clasped my father’s limp old hand in easy greeting and realised that it was I, all along, who had been the imposter.

M J Lewis 2016

Welcome to all who visit Friday Fiction and a particular thanks to those who stay to read and comment. Thanks as ever to our host, the writer and artist Rochelle and also to the Friday Fiction regular, C.E.Ayr who supplies the photo this week.

(Please note all Friday Fiction photos are copyright and should only be posted in conjunction with Friday Fiction or by permission of the photographer.)

9 thoughts on “The Imposter

  1. A lot of emotion in this piece. Does the narrator feel like an imposter because she feels like she’s faking positive feelings for her father in front of her fiance? I’m definitely intrigued here. The piece has a lot of pull.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for visiting and commenting, Randy and Emily.
      I’m always happy to have a piece interpreted in many ways – particularly when it’s so short and readers are filling gaps.
      But I suppose to me the narrator sees herself as the imposter as she realises she’s a watcher who stands back a step from her own life, whereas her husband seems natural and at ease in comparison (he might not feel that way of course!). I don’t think she’s faking feeling as such – it’s more complicated.
      My own husband (ie mine, not the narrator’s!) read this and suggested I write it as a longer piece. Might give it a go!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This made me say Wow! There’s so much in it. I interpreted it the way we never really think about the lives of our parents when we are children. We are part of the family, but they have their lives and we grow up to have ours. And your explanation above: I sometimes feel like an imposter on this planet…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for your lovely comments – so glad it resonates. This was one of those stories I nearly didn’t post.
      As to feeling like an imposter, that probably is part of the human condition. It’s certainly helpful to writers, if not social interaction!


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