Thirty Year Reunion

Flash Fiction: Thirty Year Reunion

The sun kissed the horizon, and you stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street. It had been thirty years since you had last seen your sister. You wondered if she'd recognise you. Part of you hoped she wouldn't, and when you walked into her flower shop, she'd give you no more attention than a new customer. You'd have kept your promise but avoided the messy situation of explaining where you'd been for three decades.

On March 9th, you had sat beside your dying mother, had sneaked into her hospital room past the nurses' station for one last look at the woman who had given you life. Your mother recognised you instantly; what mother wouldn't recognise their youngest child in spite of years apart?

She was frail, and at first you hesitated to touch her, to disturb her peaceful sleep. As you stood gazing upon her gaunt face, you dreamt of your childhood and picking peas in the garden and spending summers at the beach house. They were memories you held dear, ones you could never discuss with family because of your horrible decision late one October night.

You stepped closer, and the sound of your footsteps in the silent room caused your mother to stir. Within moments, her eyes were wide open, staring at you as if she had seen a ghost. Then a smile creased her lips and her feeble hand reached out. Unable to deny her request, you grasped her fingers and held them near.

"Mama," you whispered.

"My wee Sarah." Her voice was low and soft. "You've finally come home to Mother."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you breathed slower to calm your excited nerves. "I needed to see you."

"No more than I needed to see you, my dear." With the little strength remaining, she squeezed your hand.

You stayed with her for almost an hour until she tired and slipped into sleep. During the conversation, she insisted you see your sister. You hesitated, then nodded.

"By the end of September," she added, giving you her defiant look she had given you many times while growing up. "It is my dying wish for you."

You had forced a smile and agreed, partly thinking you'd never honour it. Later, when you read your mother's obituary in the newspaper, a twinge of regret grew to an ache. You had to see your sister one more time. For Mother.

The flower shop on Main Street had been you sister's dream come true. You hoped it had partially made up for a crushed dream caused by your betrayal. Pamela had married and was a month away from giving birth to her first child when you had done the unthinkable. It was a crushing blow that had been four years in the making. It wasn't as if you had planned it that way; who knew you'd both meet and fall in love with the same man on the same day, one you both dated without the other knowing or that man knowing you were sisters until that fateful day when she brought him home to visit your parents.