In Memoriam
A Short Story by Abram Dress
Rachel’s gaze flicked to the newly replaced porch swing, swinging in the blustering winds. Sixteen years, a lifetime ago, a different storm had raged, and she’d stood shivering in this same spot, the cheap nylon of her raincoat clinging to her bare skin, her heels sinking slightly into the damp wood. That night, Jack had opened the door, his eyes darting nervously before he hurried her inside.
Today, the house seemed to sparkle with a sense of renewed life, polished cars lined the driveway, and laughter echoed within. A multitude of people gathered, celebrating Jack's journey, sorrowful but cherishing every remaining moment even as Jack lay catatonic in a hospice bed upstairs.
Soon, the doctors would disconnect his life support, and after that it would be too late.
Rachel's finger hovered over the doorbell before she pressed it, her heart pounding in her chest. The door swung open, revealing Hannah. Recognition flickered across Hannah's face, morphing her sorrow into a blaze of resentment. Her lips, once relaxed, tightened into a firm line.
Hannah's words bit. “Why are you here?”
Rachel’s voice trembled, but determination underpinned her plea. “It's Jessie. She's only fifteen…”
“I know how old she is,” Hannah snapped, her voice rising above the gentle hum of conversation inside.
“She’s sick. She needs help.”
“Jessie’s not my daughter. I don’t care.” Hannah's anger crackled in the air, loud enough to draw the eyes of those inside. Curious glances peeked through the windows, attention drifting from joyful memories and heartfelt stories. Murmurs floated through the air, heavy with judgment.
Why is she here?
Slut.
How dare she.
Homewrecker.
Rachel stood, unbending in the face of their whispers, her resolve unshaken. Hannah's cheeks flushed with a deep crimson of humiliation. She forced a smile at the onlookers before stepping outside, closing the door with a soft click, facing Rachel with simmering fury. “You need to go.”
“Jessie needs a new heart.”
Hannah blinked, her anger momentarily giving way to shock. “What?”
“She needs Jack’s heart.”
“How dare you…” Hannah's voice cracked, her eyes blazing with indignation.
“I won’t leave until you sign.” Rachel's hand extended, offering a pen and a sheaf of paper, the Organ Donation Approval form clutched tightly.
Hannah’s face contorted with a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, sorrow. But finally, resignation settled in her eyes. She drew a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she nodded slowly, accepting the pen with a trembling hand.
–END
Author’s Note: I wrote this for the NYCMidnight flash fiction contest. While it didn’t win, it was well received and I got some great feedback from the judges. The prompts were Genre: Drama, Action: Asking for a donation, Word: pleasant
Copyright 2024 Abram Dress
This is probably the most emotionally powerful story by you that I have read