Friday Flash - A Fleeting Hope
Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 10:17PM Here's my first ever Friday Flash entry, a story called A Fleeting Hope, also featured in my collection of short fiction called In Search of Monsters. If you like the story, please check out my other work. Thanks for reading.
And away we go...
A Fleeting Hope
By Josh Covington
I catch my first glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, as I stand amongst the racks of canned vegetables, trying to figure the difference between stewed and pureed tomatoes. I almost don’t recognize her. She has changed so much since I saw her last. I stand there a moment, frozen, pretending to check the sodium content of a can of beans as she walks toward me. My mouth goes dry. My knees wobble.
She passes without noticing me and it is the smell of her that I recognize at once, like clean linen and flowers. I look up from the stacks of cans and watch, her back to me now, as she continues down the aisle, pausing a moment to study a box of Hamburger Helper, before turning out of sight. She has cut her hair and put on a little weight I notice, but it must be her. I’m sure of it.
I race in the opposite direction, the wheels of my cart sliding across the tile. I hit a slippery patch on the floor, a busted jar of olive oil maybe, that sends me skidding into a display of ice cream cones, scattering them. A fat woman with stringy hair gasps and lets loose a clucking sound of disapproval. I hardly hear as I scurry past.
I turn the corner and see that she's now walking toward me. She wears faded jeans and a t-shirt that at one time was probably white but is now the color of weak tea. Her shoes are plain, probably Keds or something from Wal-Mart, and as sullied as the shirt. In her hand she carries a grocery basket, the kind made of blue plastic with the little handles that I hate to use because they makes me look dainty. I draw closer, and can now see that her eyes are no longer the lively blue that kept me hypnotized during chemistry labs and pep rallies years ago, but instead a cloudier blue, muddied, like a rain puddle after a storm.
As I pass her this second time I see that she is with someone, a scrawny man a few years older than me. He too wears a plain white shirt. His jeans are baggy and ragged at the bottoms where they drag the floor. I’m nearly to the next aisle when she turns, looks at me, and smiles in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Billy? Billy Wade?” Her voice dances across the tile toward me.
“Uh, yeah.” It’s all I can say. She’s walking my way, heading right for me. Christ.
“Jefferson High, right? I’m sure you don’t remember me.” She smiles again, not three feet away from me now, and my world lights up in radiant shards. “We went to school together.”
“Yeah. Oh, wait, right, uh…Hope?” I pretend to have trouble remembering.
“Yeah! Hope Petersen! Well, Hope Thomason now.” She looks over her shoulder at the scrawny guy. He glares back and begins to walk toward us. When she faces me again, I notice that there is something else behind those muddied eyes. Something hurt. Maybe even something broken.
“Sure, how’ve you been?”
“Good, good. You?”
“Not too bad.” I smile the best I can. Behind her, I see the guy is almost to us. There is a cold stare in his eye that makes me hate him. I want to grab her, to hold her close, to tell her to run, run away with me. “So, what are you doing now?” I say instead.
“I mostly just stay home with the kids. I’ve got three of ‘em. Can you believe it, three kids? They’re at their Grandma’s now. She’s always complaining about never getting to see them but I think she’ll be saying different after tonight.” She looks down at her dirty shoes, as if ashamed of something, and I notice a horseshoe shaped bruise on her neck. It looks maybe a week old, yellow around the edges, starting to fade. The sight of it makes my own throat tighten. “Do you have any?”
“Kids? Uh, no.” The thought of having children seems crazy to me. I don’t feel like much more than a child myself. “No kids.”
“Never thought I’d have any, but you know, God seems to have a plan for us all.” She smiles again but there’s no feeling behind it. “Maybe you will someday.”
“Maybe.”
“So…do you work?”
“I have a job, how much work I do is debatable.” I curse my joke, wishing I could take it back.
As she opens her mouth to respond, the scrawny guy wraps his arm around her shoulders. Her mouth snaps closed and her face seems to fall like melting wax. “It was good to see you, Billy. I should be going now.” He spins her around and leads her away before I can say another word. They are gone in what feels like a flash.
I make my way toward the checkout. My list is only half done, my cart mostly empty, but I cannot stay here any longer. I cannot risk passing her again on the canned soup aisle or getting a glimpse of her near the potato chips.
Moments later, I walk into the drooping afternoon sunlight, laden with two plastic bags and a heart that seems made of lead. For the first time in five years I have all but forgotten about Hope Petersen.
I pray I never see her again.
Reader Comments (5)
Great story. One of my favorites in the collection.
I really liked how this flowed, look forward to reading more of your stuff
Loved your story!
Welcome to #fridayflash!
Thanks, everyone. I really like this one too.
Great story! Loved the characters name! ;)