396 km

396 km takes place on a bus in the past and during the present as the main character struggles to decided what to do about the death of a loving mother.

396 km

The Truth hurts, so embrace yourself for the worst, life isn’t the only thing that will screw you over.

0 km

It’s the small things in life that always end up making a difference, but like everything else in this world people stand in denial of it. We’re all chained in a cave, looking at only the shadows of life, while the few who have stepped out are neglected. It’s not our fault, they’re just scared - we're all scared of the unknown. That’s why when we need a change, we need it to be big, we always need to dive into it so that there's a bigger chance of going back to our old ways, taking back the bad habits that we never intended to truly leave.  That’s why it’s always the little things that end up screwing us over. It’s the domino effect, and I can tell you all, know that dominos don’t make a sound when they fall, so when they’ve all fallen down, we can do nothing but put them back up and hope to God that the next time, we’ll see it coming.

               - Logic

My apartment was beyond perfection, everything loved and shaved down to the smooth sharp edge painted with silvers and blacks. The ceiling fan battling through the tight hot air in a blissful silence, spreading the scents of sweet ivory through the thin halls; the walls spotless, reflecting off one another in their white beauty as they stood on the shimmering deep brown oak floors with their rings and swirls of treasured history. The cream rug protecting it from the grey couches that sat behind the glass tables, and beside the blood red vases filled with dying willow branches.

It wasn't everyday that I was able to admire my home and just sit; then the little thing happened, the phone chimed through the silence of the rooms, eventually reaching me. I knew who it was, and I knew that I didn’t know how to feel about it - life’s a b***h that way, there’s always more than just two sides. My cellphone then began ringing. I didn’t have to think, I picked up the home line and put it on hold before saying anything, and checked the ID on my cell.

STUDENT # 12 1-589-375-6024

“I’m not available for the next few days, find someone else, cancel anything with my name on it.”  

I hung up, and answered the next lingering caller.

“When do I have to be there?”

“Tonight.”

I hung up, and packed my bags.

3 km

Outside reflected what I was already feeling - confusion. The sun peaked in between the moving clouds that faded in and out from  light grey shades and blinding whites;  teasing everyone with hints and specks of the blue sky. The wind freezing my spine as it pierced through my jacket.

The bus pulled up and I stepped on, with each step the scent of the dingy old bus became more distinct, the air moist with dashes of body odour  left behind by the beings that had sat for hours on end before reaching their destinations - leaving the bus driver alone to do nothing but start all over again.  It wasn’t hard to find a seat, the majority of the bus was empty, and the odd seats that were occupied were filled with men that jolted: eager to impress.  I sat in the back, hoping that it would give me a dark cloud that spoke to everyone telling them do not disturb, and leaned my head against the  window and shut my eyes, yet it didn’t last as long as I would have liked.

“How are you Susan?”

A tall older man sat beside me, his hair a deep grey with lingering strands of lighter shades and white. He had a long jaw covered with a beard that must have been growing for about two days now. He still had a faint wiff of whisky to him, his eyes blue and a black cane in his hand with silver embroideries, and on top a silver diamond like figure; his suit matching the tones of his hair; grey and dingy.

“My name’s not Susan.” I lied

“Yes it is.” he gave no space for questioning, it was a fact that we both knew, and he didn’t feeling like playing around, not yet.

“Are you excited?”

“For what?”

“You’re on a bus, well dressed, sitting in the back, was alone - obviously you're going somewhere away from home for a while.”

“I’m not on vacation.”

“Oh don’t pull that s**t over my eyes, of course you're on vacation, you’re relieved, why else would you be speaking to me so willingly?”

His words held truth, he had no business in where I was going, yet alone why, I didn’t even know the man, what the hell was I doing?

“You should leave, I don’t know you, and I don’t want to.”

“Well you don’t know me but you know of me, so no.”

“No?”

“I’m not moving,” he leaned into my side with his back straight, and hands on the top of his cane, and whispered out to me. “I have seniority.”  

“And bad breath.” I murmured to myself.  

I cuddled up closer to the window, which it did nothing but numb my cheek; it was still better than talking. The man stretched out his body, and made an obnoxious yawning sound before I shut my eyes, and managed to fall unconscious.  

166 km

There was still daylight shining through the windows when I opened my eyes. I sat up, and the seat was empty, I looked over the seats and saw nothing close to the back of the old man’s head. Thank God. My phone showed nine missed calls, each one from a different student. A flush rushed behind me, and I could hear a door opening and a sigh of relief before the old man flopped himself back down beside me.  His lips were tucked together as he glared between myself and the phone.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

“What do you want?”

“Closure.”

That one caught me by surprise, I looked down at him as he continued to sink down in his seat with an odd smile (he was trying too hard, either that or he didn’t care).  

“Why?”

“Because you’re in a deep hole of depression, you don’t even know you’re in it, which makes everyone else depressed, which is dangerous.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“You see? depressing, I am now depressed, we need to fix it before it gets worse - closure.”

“I don’t have problems.” I groaned, which took me by surprise; I do a lot of things but groaning is not one of them.

“You’re a lawyer and a professor - of course you have problems.”

“Go away.”

“Give me what I want.”

“What do you want damn it! who are you?” Some heads moved for a quick second, ready to look back before aborting mission.

“I’m your last chance.” he looked directly into my eyes, paralyzing me from the neck down. “Start with telling me where you’re going.”

It took me some time, for a while we just sat looking into each other as we faded into cushions of the seat in silence.

“I’m going to my mother’s funeral.”  

He smiled at me, his cheeks wrinkling up to his eyes that had become smaller, almost making it impossible to see his blue eyes.

“What now?”

“You’re happy about it.”

I snorted, and looked back out the window.

“No I’m not -”

“and angry, confused, disgusted - need I go on?”

“My mother died, I feel nothing but . . . pain and mourn.”  I couldn't even convince myself.

I checked on my phone for the current location -  revealing the painful truth of another four hours until my destination. I leaned back into the chair and sighed out as I looked up at the ceiling of the bus.

“Let’s talk about my mother.”

230 km

“My mother is surgeon - was a surgeon last time I checked. I haven’t spoken to her for thirteen years, because she’s a scalpel crazy heartless pathetic excuse of a mother.”

“Well that’s a bit harsh.” The old man spoke out in a judgmental tone, as if he were on her side.

“It’s the truth, I’ve been paying for a home line so that I could get this call, so that the last time I see her, there will be no debates, not pity fests, and no disappointment.” I began twiddling with my thumbs as I waited for his reply.

“You’re a b***h.” he finally spoke out.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear.”

“I have the right to be angry.”

“Prove it, you’re a lawyer, show me the evidence.”  It bothered me that he knew so much of me, yet I still struggled  in the dark.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“How old are you?” He scanned me from head to toe before returning to my face. “Thirty-ish? It’s a shame that you’re going to lose your job.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you don’t have the passion outside the workplace, then you don’t have it at all, you’re either going to quit or get fired. Fifty says you have two more months.”

My blood rushed through me, I knew my face was scorched to a beat red. My hands began to tingle as my nerves spasmed, forcing me to clench in and out of tight fists against me lap that was just as irritated.

“You need to be extraordinary, I didn’t raise you, and spend thousands of dollars on your sorry a*s to grow up, and be known as ordinary.”

I kept my head still, looking at the back of the seat in front of me, my heart beating to the point that my pulse began to force it’s way up my throat.

“Is that meant to mean something?” He began to become more arrogant as he grew more comfortable or I with him, I honestly didn’t have the effort to care.

“It means I have the right to be angry.”

“No, it means that you hold long a*s grudges.”

I turned to look at him , glaring at him without bothering to blink, I need him to know that I was staring right through him, he was nothing, and he needed to leave. The more I looked at him the more overwhelmed I became, hot tears boiling behind my eyes, hunting for the way out.

“You’re mother was a good women.”

I blurted out in a disturbed huff of laughter, straining my neck up towards the ceiling.

“And how do you know my mother.”

“She divorced me.”

294 km

I had nothing to say, and nowhere to go; stuck on a bus with a man that was meant to hold my hand every step of the way, yet here he was now, reappearing from the shadows to do nothing more than to call me a b***h.  He knew his limits sitting in silence, giving me only a sliver of privacy by not looking at me, and breathing ever so slightly to the point that  I could barely hear him, hoping that I would forget he was there.

“That was the last thing she said to me.”

My father did nothing but angle his head towards me, and listened.

“I was nineteen, I was ready to go into the world, and then she saw the papers. Every sheet screaming out that one word law, and that wasn’t okay with her. She said she wanted me to be extraordinary, not ordinary like a worthless lawyer would be, so she taught me a lesson. I can still hear her voice nipping at the back of my head. ‘What happens if I have internal bleeding, or I need to relive blood flow from my chest, what the hell are you going to do, just call 911 and f*****g wait for them to show up!’ I didn’t know what to say, I never know what to say when she’s angry, when she’s making her case, but she made it, like always she proved me wrong.  I still have it, the knife she used. She stormed into the kitchen and came back with a knife in hand looking at her wrist in doubt before slicing through her skin. I went for the phone and she screamed out if I dared touch that damn phone, and I listened. She smiled at me in victory and disappointment, ‘you’re nothing but ordinary.’ and then she fainted collapsing to the ground and I called.”

“And then what happened?”

“I went to the hospital, everyone was there, standing at each side of her as I walked in the room. I had changed overnight, heels, make up, isolation - I had it all… I was my mother, which was exactly what she wanted. She smiled at me in pathetic weakness, and I didn’t bother to return the favour. I looked at them all standing by her side in judgment and threw them a piece of paper with my home line number on it. I said Don’t ever call this number unless it’s to her funeral. And walked out without ever looking back, that was thirteen years ago.”

“Do you think she actually wanted to scar you?”

“She tried to kill herself to teach me a lesson and escape a world with an expensive disappointment.”

“You don’t actually believe that.” He laughed out.

“I believe what I see, and what I saw was my mother slicing her wrists to spite me, and end her misery while throwing me into my own.”

He just stared at me, squinting his eyes in disbelief.

“What?”

“She was a f*****g surgeon. You think she just accidently didn’t kill herself? The crazy women loved you.”

Like a deer in the headlights, it hit me. The evidence had proven me wrong.

396 km

The church was filled with bodies covered in black fabrics, mourning out of respect for the family, and the loss of an extraordinary surgeon.

I stood in front of them all, recognizing only my father’s face, which wasn’t all that much comforting.

“My mother was no more than an ordinary woman who hid behind the masks of once extraordinary people, like mine. I would say that we would miss her but let’s be honest, the only thing that will ever miss her are the medical miracles.” I walked up beside the casket, looking at my father who had his arms crossed as he leaned back in the front row, and returned my glare.

“This woman loved me more than any mother in this room has ever loved their child, and she will be happy to hear that I am extraordinary,” tears began to run down my eyes, and my legs collapsed within themselves pulling me down to my knees. “and I hope you rot in hell for that.”

A gasp came from the crowd, and I rose back to my feet. My father came up to embrace me.

“Good job Susan.”

I pulled myself away from his comfort, I wasn’t done yet, only half of the story had been explained.

“I forgave my mother. Now why the hell did you leave?”  I waited for a reply, but he did nothing but smiled and walk away with his cane in hand.

“I told you you need closure.” He called out with a smug tone, before vanishing into the sea of mourning black.  

Author's Note

I don't often make short stories, but I've decide to share anyways, I've been gone for a while now so please enjoy. :)

Reviews

[Emily]

I love the story it tells!
Love it!

[Octavious]

Thank you so much, I am glad that you enjoyed it.