Write, Edit, Published bloghop. This blog hop was started by the lovely Denise Covy and joining her is Yolanda Renee. This month the challenge is to write a story with the prompt, Reunion. Sorry I'm late, I won't bore you with the reason. To read other fabulous stories, go here.
Timothy reached for the letter he’d set aside three days ago and gazed at the return address. His anger hadn’t subsided from when he first found it in his mail slot. Rather, it had intensified.
Rage had kept him from his family all these years. More than twenty. He nurtured it. Like rain on sandy soil, his irritation flowed in little rivulets, each holding the memories of what had been done to him. The first when he had been fifteen. His father accepted a job in New York City and moved his entire family from the beaches of southern California to the city that never sleeps. A surfer, Timothy had lost his chance to compete in the champion trials, and he’d lost his friends. There wasn’t any place to surf in New York City.
At school, he had to endure name calling and never did make new friends. His grades had plummeted. Who knew what might have happened in southern California. He might have been on the honor roll. In New York he flunked. There was no ivy league school for him. Instead, he attended a small college.
When he’d graduated from that little college, his father didn’t come. Afterwards, in an argument his father let him know that he was a big failure and a disappointment.
He landed a job in California shortly after that and had moved. Every year invitations came for family reunions and Christmas. He threw them all away and never sent a single gift. He ignored news of his sister’s weddings and the birth of their children. He burned the only photos he had of his father.
He jumped in his chair when the phone rang. Timothy lifted his iPhone and recognized the number from New York. He nearly tossed the expensive phone aside, but something made him stop. Who would it be? His father or his mother? Father never called him. But his mother had left one tearful message after another on his Birthday’s and a Christmas. It was probably her. The only bright spot in the list of wrong doing.
His mother had encouraged him through all the problems. If it hadn’t been for her, he never would have gone to college at all.
He swiped the phone and hesitated before saying, “Hello.”
“Timothy.” It was his father. His thumb hovered near the end call button.
“Please come, your mother has cancer. Her only wish is to see you again.”
Word Count: 408
I can't say that this was the most joyful thing I've ever written, but this is what came to me. I hope you enjoyed it.