Flash Fiction
Moving On
Nathan’s Path to Healing and Hope
It didn’t have to end like this, Nathan mused, the bitter taste of the slender white stick lingering on his lips. He flicked the ash into the dark abyss of the navy ashtray, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
How’d this go so wrong? he wanted to know. I’m better than Elisa could get, he thought. Who am I kidding? I’m nothing but what people say that I am.
But he didn’t know. What did he have that I couldn’t afford? Much, I suppose.
One Saturday morning, Nathan woke up to the unusual stillness that was silence. Elisa would be up watching an ID show or talking on the phone to a friend. But that morning, there was none of that anymore.
She left a note that said she needed space. But Nathan knew someone else popped into the picture before an Ephrata summer slithered away.
Elisa promised one day he’d understand.
Three days had passed with no word, and then three months settled into September without Elisa.
Elisa will forget about me, he thought. Now, if only I could remember who I am.
He sipped warm caramel coffee from his beige mug at the oak kitchen table, staring out the large bay window. He placed the drink on the table and pushed it aside, creating a slight clink as it contacted the surface. His fingers absently drifted to a hangnail, tugging at it as he fidgeted with his hands.
Unable to juggle opposing reasons for her leaving, Nathan straightened himself up with a determined motion, the chair creaking slightly in protest. Nathan lifted a device, hit a button, and the radio turned on. Classic Country pushed through the large cherry maple speakers. He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a tan lighter. The cherry candle’s edges tinged with a hint of dancing orange as if the flame breathed life into this old home. He set the candle on the Dogberry fireplace mantel.
He moved down to the crimson hallway closet, opened the poplar door, and shifted boxes for autumn decorations. He moved his hand across the light dust on the one labeled fall. He shut the closet and stepped over the maple floor to the living room. He set the box on the oak coffee table. He opened and pulled out the artificial gold and red leaves with pinecones imprinted on glass mugs.
A squirrel racing across the window seal startled him to laughter. He stood and looked out the window.
Hannah’s bag of groceries split, spilling her items. He thought he’d help her.
Nathan zipped his light jacket, put his hands in his pockets, and looked around the teal walls. He ditched the pictures of Elisa and left pictures of his mother and sisters. A frown weighted his lips before he forced a smile.
Nathan blew out the candle and moved outside. He locked his door and stepped over yellow and brown leaves from skeletal willow trees. He opened his tall birch gate and closed the distance between himself and a potential future.
“Hannah?” he said.
“Nathan,” she said, wrapping her long, dark hair around her neck. “Could you give me a hand?” She arched a desperate brow.
“Of course,” Nathan said. He opened her fence and crossed her freshly cut lawn.
Nathan swooped to gather her lunch meat, cheese, cereal, and cake mix. “Hey?” Nathan held up the scissors. “This is the only bag with a hole and there’s…” Nathan paused, and he blushed.
Hannah gestured. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?” Hannah said, nervously.
“You could have knocked on my door.” Nathan twisted the cap off her half-gallon milk, took a sip, and returned the cap.
Hannah folded her arms and shifted her weight to her back foot. “And you could peel your eyes off me once in a while.”
Nathan waved his finger and narrowed one eye. “You’ve been watching me.”
“Not any more than you’ve been watching me.” Hannah cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, help me put this in the kitchen.”
“Are you going to lock me in the basement or something?” Nathan joked.
Hannah laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
A firewood candle scent hung thick in Hannah’s beige living room.
She had a large glass coffee table and an olive green loveseat. And an ivory couch from her mother.
“She left, didn’t she?” Hannah said.
Nathan sighed hard.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to — ”
“Elisa left,” Nathan said, as though getting it off his chest felt good.
“Another man?” Hannah handed him a dark beer.
“Thanks.” He twisted the top and sipped it. Nathan looked at the label. “No alcohol?”
“I’m a church girl,” Hannah said, laughing.
Nathan chuckled. “You’re different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know,” Nathan said, scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m from Virginia. It’s different over here. Maybe that’s why I’m different,” Hannah said. “You know?”
“Makes sense,” he said. “How’d you get over here?”
“My mom moved her to be with her parents, and I tagged along.”
“Didn’t have much choice, did you?” Nathan said.
“Unless I wanted to stay with my dad, and that wasn’t happening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she said.
“For what?”
“What you went through with Elisa,” she said, motioning. “I shouldn’t have watched as much as I did, but it was like a soap opera. She mistreated you. I rooted for you. I prayed she’d leave you, and she did. Yay me.”
Nathan set his drink down and moved to embrace Hannah. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The prayers,” Nathan said, “I almost gave up on God.”
“But he didn’t give up on us.”
“I prayed you’d leave Mark.”
Hannah lifted her head off his chest to meet his eyes. “You heard all that?”
“I feel like I know everything about you.”
Hannah returned her head to his chest. “And I know you.” She squeezed him.
(© 2024 AC)
(Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club)
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