Short Stories

The Yellow Umbrella

One article of clothing at a time is tucked away in a suitcase. His eyebrows remain furrowed and his hands move automatically. Though his eyes do not stray from the task at hand, they are unfocused and seem almost clouded.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out," he says briefly as he closes his suitcase.

His golden fringe falls in front of his eyes. He runs his hand through his hair, flattening his fringe on top of his head. To no avail, each strand of his fringe gradually makes its way up and back in front of his face. This time however he makes no effort to put it back into place.

He finally looks at me. His eyes are slightly puffy and are decorated with black circles.

He shakes his head and begins to descend the white wooden stairs.

I urge myself to follow him. He reaches for the door handle but hesitates.

"May I take the umbrella?" I look to where he is gesturing.

The yellow umbrella.

Walking home, huddled underneath that umbrella, laughing and talking. The rain helplessly gliding off the yellow fabric, down to the ground below. Never once being able to penetrate the yellow shield.

He taps his fingers impatiently.

I glance at it once more. "Just take it."

He removes the yellow umbrella from its stand, opens it up and without a second glance, walks out the white wooden door. This is the first time there is only one of us underneath the umbrella.

I close the door and lean against it. My eyes wander to the people in the photos displayed along the wall of the stairs. As I slide down the cold wooden door, their faces seem to blur.

Usually, the warm colourful light that shines through the stained-glass windows illuminates them. Instead, dark shades of red and blue intertwine and paint the smiling faces in its glow.

I see her face amongst the strangers. Her golden curls still as vibrant as I remember. Just like her father's. But now her yellow curls have turned scarlet, just as they did before.

We walk home, my hand clutching the wooden handle of the yellow umbrella. The yellow fabric illuminates her curls presenting her with a golden aura. We turn to walk up the silver stone stairs that glimmers in the sunlight. The sound of splashing reaches our ears as we turn to see who is behind us. Her father looks at his new Italian leather shoes and frowns, before glancing up at us. His milky coloured fringe is drenched, but he doesn't seem to mind. He quickly comes under our umbrella and smiles, as we all head into our home together.

My eyes open and my vision is lopsided. I lift my head off the ground before a pounding feeling travels through my body. I am forced to lay back down again. I reach my hand up to touch my eyes. Soft and puffy. My hand falls to the floor, the vibrations travel up my arm. I notice a dark blue shadow on my skin and reach my other arm over to touch it. The bruise coloured shadow instantly dances from my arm to my hand. I continue to wave it back and forth.

My eyes move from my hand to a photo that also reflects the shade of dark blue. Lifting my head an inch off the ground, I slowly return to a sitting position. My eyes set once again on the image. A woman with raven hair and a man with hair as bright as the sun stare at each other grinning. The man holds a curved wooden stick that disappears into the yellow background behind the couple. The woman holds a bundle of blankets in her hands. They seem eerily familiar, but there's no way this image is real. How could two people be so undeniably happy?

I crawl up the stairs and force myself to stand. Reaching the bathroom, I stare at the mirror. Who is this person staring at me? She looks just like that woman in the photo except her raven hair sticks out in every direction and her eyes are almost swollen shut. I open the cabinet causing the woman to disappear. I snatch the container out of the cabinet and close it. The woman is back but she pays no attention to me. I open the container and pour the remaining contents into my hand. My thoughts are trying to penetrate the fog that surrounds my mind. It fails, and I swallow the contents in my hand.