Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Message from the Heart

This was a second-place winner in a 2018 flash fiction contest
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     Ted stepped off the curb on to State Street, running late as usual. The traffic was light. A strong wind swirled the leaves and trash around forming a miniature funnel on the sidewalk. His sister, Merci would be on time, it was her nature.  She felt being late was an insult. Ted was rarely on time. Something always distracted him; today it was text messages. His tardiness annoyed Merci, something she did her best to ignore. The worry wrinkles in her forehead said otherwise.

     His laissez-faire attitude hampered his success in business and life. His sister’s promptness helped her succeed. Merci always looked at life from the serious side, Ted on the other hand, treated life like a never-ending party. Their differences caused friction, but Ted’s light-hearted personality made her laugh whenever things got tense at family gatherings. Thanksgiving his job was to bring potatoes. He brought Vodka, called it liquid potatoes.

*** 

     Late again, Merci rubbed her temple, even though she told him to be here a half-hour earlier than he needed to be. It’s uncanny how he knows when I’ve given him a false meeting time. He’ll be late to his own funeral. It’s a cliché, I know, but in his case it’s true.

     “What’s your excuse today?” Merci grimaced.

     “I could tell you a lie or tell the truth,” Ted said with a twinkle in his eye.

     “How would I know the difference?” 

     “Feisty today, are we?” Ted asked. “You know, I love you. The favorite of all my siblings.”

     “That’s special since I’m your only sibling.”

     “So, why are we meeting today?” Ted pinched her cheek.

     She batted his hand away. “Its Mom, she’s getting worse.”

     “She’s Eighty-eight, no one gets better at that age.”

     “You’re exasperating. You know what I mean,” Merci said. “Her memory ... she hardly recognizes me anymore.”

     “Stop changing your hair color.”

     “Not funny, Ted,” Merci said. “Can’t you be serious for a minute?”

     “How will that help?” Ted continued. “It won’t change the diagnosis.”

     “There has to be something we can do.”

     “You’re right, there is.”

     “Like what, genius?” Merci challenged.

     “Visit her … make her smile, make her laugh,” Ted answered. “It’s not about the past, the lost memories. It’s about now, making each day in her life fun. She may not remember it, but you will. She may not recognize you, but she’ll enjoy the visits.”

     “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve always been the fun one,” Merci admitted. “I’m the problem solver.”

     “So, here’s the problem,” Ted said. “What’s best for Mom? Make the rest of her life fun or frustrate her by trying to resurrect lost memories?” 

     “Damn you, Ted. Just when I expect you to disappoint me, you surprise me and say something smart.”

     “Not to worry. There’ll be many more chances,” Ted laughed. “You’re buying lunch, right?”

     “Yes, as always … loser.” She grinned.

     Ted laughed as he waved to the waiter.  “A bottle of your finest Bordeaux.” 

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