V is for The Visit: A Short Story

This post is part of the A to Z Challenge.

This short story was again written for a competition. The challenge was to pick five words from a list of ten, and write a story around them in 250 words. The story didn't make the cut, but I still like it. When there's a tiny word limit, it necessarily makes the story under-stated.

***

I glance at my watch. He’s been in there for half an hour. We’re going to be cutting it close at the dentist’s.

There - a flash of blue at the entrance.

He opens the door and climbs in, holding his knapsack awkwardly. I strap on his seat-belt - not that there’s much point, he’s much too small. But the child-seat is at the back, and he’s outgrown it anyway.

I signal and ease out onto the road. He’s generally moody after these visits, so it’s best to to talk. Besides, what would I say to him?

I glance over at him. He’s sitting with his head bowed, a single tear on his cheek.

I suddenly notice a flash of pink inside his bag.

“You didn’t leave the flowers?” I ask, surprised.

“She said give them to Daddy, it’s his birthday on Saturday.”

Crap - I’d almost forgotten.

“You know he doesn’t like roses, sweetheart.”

“She said that’s because they remind him of her. She said to say they’re from her, so he won’t say anything.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“She said only Daddy should bring me here, not you.”

“I know, Rubbub. It’s just that Daddy was busy today.”

“She said don’t call me Rubbub. That’s her name for me.”

“Okay.”

I sigh. We go through this every year, on the day she died. Now he’s going to begin every sentence with “She said...”. And he’s going to call me Sara.

But he’ll be fine. In a few days.