Flash Fiction by Jason Smith
Joan was happy her son was popular, she never was. He’d been begging her for weeks to use her car for an overnight trip with his friends.
In his group of friends there were girls and she suspected they would be drinking alcohol and probably smoking pot. She’d always talked to her son, benefiting him with her experience, even though he thought he knew everything. She just wanted him to be responsible and a big part of her lending him her car was that she needed him to be responsible. She didn’t need a phone call from the police in the middle of the night.
Joan had work, like she always did, she had no idea what a day off was anymore. Her
father had offered to pick her up after work, but he wasn’t answering his phone.
“Just give me a call when you’re ready.” he’d told her.
She’d called him several times knowing his phone would be unheard while he watched old black and white movies at a volume high enough to make anyone’s ears ring.
He’d never been reliable. Joan would do anything she could for her son, including
picking him up from wherever he was but her father had often lacked in that area and he was lacking now.
She was regretting lending her son her car now. This always happens, she does someone a favor, makes arrangements and everything goes wrong for her. She started thinking about her late husband Ben, he would have been waiting for her.
She missed him so much, it had only been a year since he’d died but it wasn’t getting
easier. Everything reminded her of him, she had a memory of him everywhere she went. He was gone too early.
Her father acted like he understood, even though he’d been married three times and had barely been single since graduating high school, what the hell did he know? He’d never missed the one he loved. Never tossing and turning at night, hugging the pillow that they used to sleep on.
She could feel tears welling in her eyes, she’d promised herself no more tears. Ben
wouldn’t want her crying over him forever but it was so hard and at times like these, harder.
He had died so tragically. He was pruning the same roses he’d been pruning for the last twenty five years and a thorn pricked his finger. Two days later his elbow had swollen and she took him to the doctors. The doctor sent him to a hospital and his condition deteriorated quickly, six days later he was dead.
The coroner recorded a verdict of natural causes but later told Joan the death was caused by septicaemia and necrotising fasciitis. The coroner told Joan it could have been brought on by bacteria carried through the rose thorn. She said it is a rare condition that rarely affects anyone. Lots of people carry the bacteria with no ill-effects.
She pulled her collar up and started to walk just as rain began to pour, her clothes were soaked through in minutes. As she was walking she saw a familiar car driving past her, a minute later the same car pulled alongside her.
“Hey Joan, can I give you a ride?”
The man in the car was named Mr Green, her father’s neighbor since Joan was a teenager. Mr Green had been married and widowed three times, Joan had always felt sorry for him, having to go through what she was going through more than once. Mr Green had never had kids but he’d always treated Joan like she was his daughter, often giving her gifts for no reason.
“Hi Mr Green.” Joan said as she climbed into his car.
“Call me Albert, Joan, there’s no need for Mr Green anymore. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Today is hard.”
“It gets easier Joan, it doesn’t feel like it now, but I assure you one day it will be easier but you’ll never forget.”
Albert was silent for a moment. He seemed deep in thought, as if their conversation had reminded him of a memory.
“Why the hell are you walking around in this weather anyway?” asked Albert.
“I leant my car to my son and my father is supposed to be picking me up but he isn’t
answering his phone.”
“He can’t hear it over his television.” said Albert.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve told him a million times to get his ears tested. He’s in denial of how deaf he’s become.”
“I’ve noticed over the years I need to raise my voice more and more when I’m talking to him,” said Albert.
“He won’t listen to me, even when he could hear me.”
Albert smiled and silently drove down the road. Joan noticed they weren’t driving
towards her house.
“Where are we going?” Joan asked.
“Hope you don’t mind, I have a little errand to run, shouldn’t take long.” replied Albert who momentarily looked at Joan in a peculiar way. He looked away and they traveled in a silence that made Joan uncomfortable.
She attempted to call her father again. His favorite song was Tom Jones’s ‘Deliah’. Her son had helped her download the ringtone onto his phone and right now she could hear her father’s phone, it sounded like it was in Albert’s trunk. As she looked at Albert, he hummed along to the song and the car doors locked.
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Bio: Jason Smith writes out of the Pacific Northwest. He’s married and a father to a special needs boy. Originally from England, he has lived near Seattle WA since 2009. He has recently relocated to Olympia, WA.
You can find him on Instagram
He has published several stories with The Yard: Crime Blog you can find them HERE.
Read more Flash Fiction at The Yard: Crime Blog