[Creative Writing Assign.] Flash Fiction #1
They’d called it off two months, three days and a few odd hours ago, but he wouldn’t remember that. At the train station, staring down the tracks into the fog, the only thing he could think about was the journey home. It was a small town, not very well known, but it was big enough to cause trouble and he’d caused it.
She was going to be there too. This wasn’t going to be good.
Where were you?
Out
But for how long?
I’m tired, honey, let’s keep it till morning
But John!
Linda, no. Not now.
But--
It had ended with the front door slammed in his face, as the train slid to a halt and he realized they’re waiting for him on the platform. Impatient glares and huffs greeted him instead of actual words. The car ride home was filled with silence and gasoline, the faint smell of gingersnap and honeysuckle filling his nose when they pull into the driveway.
He’s here.
But she’s in the living room!
They need to meet at some point.
He’s hustled into the house, past the punch and root beer and the little kids crying in the yard over broken toys. He can hear her familiar laugh from the living room, but he barely sees a glimpse of her hair (its short now) before he’s literally thrown into his bedroom. It’s then that he realized who dragged him there in the first place. Auntie April looked livid.
What do you think you’re doing?
I-what?
Coming back so soon. We didn’t invite you.
April, don’t be bitter now! It isn’t his fault!
Like she would listen. She never did, not even to her own husband. Her glare said just as much as she stared the distance between them.
Fine then, don’t expect me to be sympathetic. You haven’t even heard her side of the story yet.
The door that slams is particularly loud and pronounced. He doesn’t like it, but there’s not much he can do.
The women aren’t happy with you, you know.
I know. But…
No buts. Man up. You did this.
But I didn’t!
They think you did.
He’s faced with resounding silence when the door clicks shut. Sitting there on the musty bedcovers that no one had washed in months. What a welcome home. How could he have forgotten? She was family to him, more than he’d ever been. He stares at the ceiling and frowns. Well. He’d have to man up somehow, right? But not right now.
He heard her laughter and cringed. Two months, three days, and a few odd hours ago but it isn’t like he’s keeping track, right? Her laugh still sounded like a dying cat’s last yowl. He fell back on the bed, and sighs, coughing up a lung full of dust in the process.