Flea Market Stories

She is not smiling. Her new boyfriend of two hours is making jokes at her, failed attempts at trying to get her to smile while holding the camera to snap a picture. Nancy’s attitude can’t change with one simple joke- she is thinking of someone far away.

                He wants to capture the memory of their first date and save it forever, thinking that this is the first of many. Meanwhile, Nancy is bitter toward her mother who set up the outing, and is desperately trying to forget today. The flowers he gave her feel like a lead weight in her hand.

                Silently to herself, she rehearses what she will tell her mother when she gets inside. “I told you! I’m not ready. If you love me, stop this” she’ll say in a confident voice.

                In response, her mother will shrug her shoulders and let the complaint slide off like water on a duck’s back. “You’re not getting any younger…it’s time to move on”.

                How could she? It was so much easier said than done. Her mother didn’t understand. Pushing men and money wasn’t going to make Jefferson leave her mind. Somewhere, she knew he was alive. Ever since his family had let her know that they had received a letter saying that he was M.I.A., she held a hope he would return.

                That was five years ago.

                Suddenly, it was all too much. The smell of the flowers, the care-free attitude of her date, and the happiness of others overwhelmed her. Nancy threw the bouquet of flowers on the ground, shouting lame apologies over her shoulder while tears threatened to spill over. Opening the wood door and slamming the screen door shut on the porch she bolted upstairs to her room, blocking out her mother’s concerns shouting up the stairs to her. She threw herself on her bed, crying.

                No, she wasn’t ready. Five years wasn’t nearly enough time to mourn her lost lover.