Tonight’s Flash Fiction story–90 minutes from the reveal of the theme word(s) to posting.  I liked this one but it got mixed reviews, especially the ending.  Oh well, can’t please everyone.

“Found”

My wedding was in a month and I still hadn’t found the perfect dress. Now I don’t like to say I’m picky but in this case I definitely was. I went to bridal shop after bridal shop. I read through all the latest Bridal magazines. I even looked at the pattern books but nothing spoke to me. And now time was running out.

“Samantha, just go with that first one you tried on at Lyle’s Bridal Boutique in Houston,” begged my mother, clearly exasperated that her youngest of four daughters was being so difficult.  “It looked gorgeous on you.”

“It was an insipid choice with all those God awful ruffles. I can’t believe that out of all the dresses I tried on, that’s the one you would suggest that I settle on. Besides, it made me look like the bride of Frankenstein.”

“Well what about that ivory one at Julian Formalwear?” she suggested not so helpfully.

“Ugh, even worse!”

“I really don’t know what to say here, Samantha. You’re running out of time. At the rate you’re going, the only thing you’ll be able to get will be something off the rack or from a second-hand store.”

“You know that’s not a bad idea,” I said, with the first bit of enthusiasm I’d felt since I got engaged.

“What? Off the rack? Please no, not yet, Sam. You still have some time, just not very much.”

My mother’s face bore the lines of worry initiated when I’d turned thirty and still didn’t have a “beau” as she called it. They grew a little deeper each year until at the ripe old age of thirty-two, I found the man of my dreams, Sheldon. Oh I know she and everyone else was probably thinking, “Sheldon? How could any man named Sheldon be the man of Samantha’s dreams?” I’m sure that they thought I was settling then, that my biological clock had made me relax my standards. But they were so very wrong then and they were wrong about the wedding dress too. I knew it was out there and that I’d find it.

“I’m going to that little second hand consignment store on the corner called ‘Victoria’s Recycled Secret’.

“Oh, good Lord, Sam, you can’t be serious,” scoffed my mother. My sister Tish joined in with her and also pooh-pooh’ed the idea.

Tish said, “Sam, that place smells so musty and bad. The only people who put items in there are people in their seventies or their children getting rid of estate items that no one else wanted.”

“I know and that’s why it’s so perfect,” I exclaimed.

My mother and Tish regarded me and then each other with a not so subtle exchange passing between them.

The next day I went to Victoria’s. The proprietress greeted me warmly at the door.

“Hello Miss. May I help you find something special?”

“Yes ma’am. I need a wedding dress.”

“Oh, yes you do, don’t you? And a very special one too, I’ll bet.” She beamed at me and I felt very much at ease with her. “My name is Samantha,” she said as she beckoned for me to follow her to one of the back rooms.

“My name is Samantha too. How about that for a coincidence?” I said. I knew I had been right to come here.

Samantha walked straight to the most beautiful gown I had ever seen.

“Oh my! Can I try it on?” I asked, giddy with anticipation.

“Of course, dear. The dressing room is back there.”

I slipped it on over my head and Samantha helped me with all the buttons. She stood behind me as I looked at myself in the mirror. I don’t know who had more tears in her eyes, me or her. We both gazed at my reflection and nodded, in perfect synchronization.

“You look breathtaking in this dress,” she gushed and I knew she was sincere and not just angling for a sale.

“I know,” I said, all modesty aside. I had to have it. It was the perfect dress.

As I moved to the cash register to pay for it, I asked, “How much do I owe you?”

“How much do you have in your wallet? I only take cash, you see,” she said.

I panicked. I never carried much cash. This was a credit card world. But I pulled out my wallet and peered inside. To my horror I realized I only had $6.76.

“Uh, could you hold it for me? I only have $6.76 cash.” I almost felt like crying.

“You can take it with you. I’ll sell it to you for $6.76,” she said with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

“Yes, of course. But I do have one condition,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

I shuddered wondering what kind of non-monetary condition she would demand. “Okay, what is it?”

“You must place it back on consignment when you become a widow.”

“Deal!” I said and she wrapped it up. I didn’t want to mull over her strange and morbid condition because it seemed so out there.

As I gathered my dress and prepared to leave the shop, I asked her, “Samantha, who’s dress was this?”

“Why mine, my dear and now it’s yours. My Sheldon and I were married for fifty-five years. I know you will be as happy as we were. I just know it.”

I knew it too as I skipped out of the shop with the perfect dress for my perfect day.

****

I had a visitor. I never had visitors. I didn’t have any family. My parents died decades ago and my only sibling, an older brother, died last year. Most of my friends were gone too.

They wheeled me into the commons area where I waited. I did a lot of that.

A young man about 30 years old turned and walked toward me. He scrutinized my face for the longest time, then did a quick visual assessment of my body. I hadn’t been strong enough to walk, even with a cane, for about six months. I knew I probably had no more than a year at most but sometimes I wished death would hurry up and take me. This place, these people…but it was best not to stew too much in my miseries.

“Hi, my name is Robert,” he said, extending his hand.

I shook it and said, “I’m Robert too, but you probably already knew that.”

“Yes. I suppose you’re wondering who I am and why I’m here visiting you.”

I nodded and said, “I suppose so.”

“I’m your son.”

If he thought he was being funny, I wasn’t laughing. “I don’t have a son.”

I studied his face and did see a resemblance, perhaps to my brother when he was that age. But I didn’t have a son, had never had a son or a daughter.

“How is it that I didn’t know about you? Who’s your mother?” I asked.

“Rita McMurray. Do you remember her?” His eyes bored into mine as if he were willing me to remember this woman.

“I don’t. How old are you?”

“I’m 71,” he said.

I laughed, looked at him and laughed again. “Who put you up to this? The orderlies? Kenneth got you to play a little joke on me, right? Oh, he’s too funny,” I choked out and then began gasping for breath. My ribs hurt from the laughing and then from trying to catch my breath. I grabbed my handkerchief and coughed up a little blood. It wasn’t too bad this time.

“Do you remember Rita?” he asked again.

“Good Lord, son, I went to high school with a little gal named Rita and I guess that would have been over 70 years ago but you can’t be her son or mine. You can’t be a day over 30.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I try to stay in shape. It gets a little harder every year. But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?” He chuckled and for a moment I wondered if I was the one laughing, he sounded so much like me. Only I didn’t feel like laughing.

“Now look here, young man,” I said, “Enough of this nonsense. Just who are you and what do you want?” His joke was no longer funny and it was almost time to watch my soaps.

“Do you remember Rita?”

How the hell would this young man have known anything about Rita? Of course, I remembered her. How could I not?

I remembered her beautiful face.

I remembered the way her soft tender body molded to mine, her sighs in my ear as I held her close, her whispered words of love. “Do you love me, Robbie?” she asked. I never answered her. I wished I had.

I remembered how I couldn’t wait to see her each morning at school and how I’d try to coax her out to the equipment storage shed. Sometimes she came with me.

I remembered when she came to me with tears streaming down her face and told me, told me her decision, a decision I condoned, God forgive me.

I remembered taking her to a house to meet someone who could help girls like her, girls in trouble.

I remembered her blood all over the seat of my car, her face ashen, her gaze unfocused out the front windshield.

I remembered the emergency room, her parents screaming at me, her father choking me, threatening to kill me. I wished he had.

I remembered kissing her goodbye.

“Yes, I remember her,” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “But Rita died. She never had a baby.”

“No, she didn’t,” he said. “I brought Rita with me. Would you like to see her?”

“Yeah, sure kid, wave your magic wand and bring her on in. I’m feeling nostalgic.”

Robert hopped up from the chair he’d been sitting in opposite me and then disappeared in the direction of the lobby.

“Hi Robbie,” said the blonde woman who walked in a few minutes later with him.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re the spittin’ image of Rita McMurray. Are you a relative?” I asked.

“Robbie, it’s me. Don’t you recognize me anymore? You used to call me Sunshine, remember?”

This time it was me chuckling. “Yes, I do. How’d you find out about that?”

She shrugged and said, “I remember. Are you ready to go now?”

“Go where?” I asked puzzled.

“Out there,” she said, nodding her head backwards. “It’s much better out there, trust me.”

“You can get me out of here?” I asked. None of this made any sense. But if I had a chance to leave Brookhaven Senior Home, grab it I would.

“Sure. When you decide that you’re ready, we can go.”

“What about this fellow here?” I asked, nodding at Robert.

“He’s handsome isn’t he, Robbie? He looks a lot like your father doesn’t he? You’ll really like him once you get to know him.”

“Have you decided, Dad? Are you ready?” Robert asked.

I looked at Rita and Robert and then around the common room. I looked at my gnarled hands that were curled into claws now, hands that could no longer hold a fork or a pencil. My knees and back ached. I could barely hear anymore yet Robert and Rita I heard as clearly as if they had been speaking directly into my brain.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I said.

Robert pushed my wheelchair outside. The sun’s rays danced upon my face, warming it, and dissolved the pains from my joints. My back straightened, ribs expanded broadly as I took a deep breath. I remembered everything then, everything, and felt God’s forgiveness cradling me like a newborn baby.

***********

“Aw man, another one keeled over in the common area. Shit, that’s the second one this month,” said Kenneth the orderly. “Robert, I guess it was just your time, wasn’t it old man?”