Shakespir Edition, License Notes
“Please, Roger. You just don’t understand,” Janice said.
“I don’t understand? I went through the same thing you did. I was there too. Don’t you remember?” Roger replied. “It’s just too soon.”
Janice walked across the room and fetched her robe from the spot on the floor where she dropped it off her body. She put it on and closed the sides tight while she cinched the strap down and tied a double knot.
“You don’t have to do that,” Roger said. “We can still have some fun.” Janice turned around to see her husband sitting on the bed and holding a small rapper in his hand with the word “Trojan” on it. “Take your robe back off.”
“You know I don’t want to use that,” Janice said as she walked closer to her husband with her robe still secured.
“Did you take your pill this morning?”
“No. I don’t want it.”
“Then I want to use this,” Roger said as he tore the corner off of the rapper.
“No. You know what I want.”
“Yes, and you know I don’t want that,” Roger replied.
Janice left the room. When she came back five minutes later tears ran down her cheeks. She held a teddy bear in her arms and pressed it against her chest. She stopped in the doorway. “It would have been two months now,” Janice said as she dropped to her knees now sobbing without trying to contain it.
Roger got off the bed and knelt down next to his hurting wife. “It’s going to be okay, honey,” he said. “We’ll get through this together. You need to stay out of that room for a while.” He held her tight while he rubbed her back.
Janice looked up at her husband through her tears. “Someone needs to fill the nursery. It’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not fair. But it happened. It wasn’t our fault. There’s nothing we could have done to prevent—”
“Don’t say it,” Janice said.
They sat on the floor without talking for a while and listened to the raindrops hit the window. The eerie silence haunted them both. Something was missing and they both knew what it was. “Please,” Janice begged.
“I just can’t right now. I don’t feel right about it,” Roger said. “What did the doctor tell you?” Roger asked already knowing what her answer would be.
Janice looked away from her husband to hide her face. “She said it’s too soon.”
“I think we should listen to her. We don’t want the same thing to happen again.”
“She was wrong the first time when she told me that everything was going smoothly, so why do you think she can’t be wrong about this?”
Roger took a deep breath and sighed. “I guess she could be, but there is a good chance that she’s right. If it happened once it could happen again. I’m not ready to go through this again and I don’t think you are either.”
Realizing that Roger was not going to cave tonight, Janice got up off of the floor and walked to the bed. She pulled back the covers and lay down with her back facing Roger. Roger got up and lay next to his wife facing away from her. He reached up and twisted the knob that turned the lamp on the nightstand off.
“Goodnight, honey,” Roger said. No reply.
Janice breathed heavily as she slept, and Roger lay wide-awake next to her. He stared up at the ceiling in the complete darkness. Roger turned his head and looked at his heartbroken wife, then got up out of bed and walked into the nursery.
Standing in the nursery doorway, Roger flipped on the light switch and glared into the small room. After a few moments, Roger darted toward the crib, ripped off the side railing, and threw it across the room. He pulled the changing station away from the wall and crashed it to the floor. Roger picked up the rocking chair over his head and hurled it against the drywall, putting a hole in it.
Janice stared into the nursery with watery eyes. “What have you done?”
I pulled the curtain over just enough to look through the window with one eye. A young man paced around my old car that had a FOR SALE sign plastered to the window. I slipped on my tennis shoes, opened my front door, and walked the short distance down my driveway.
“Hello,” I said. “Are you interested in my car?”
“How could you tell?” he asked, cupping his hands to his face and bending down to peer through the rear window.
“Just a hunch.”
The man ran his hand down the side of the car and turned to face me. “So, what can you tell me about it?”
“It was well-maintained while we used it,” I said.
What I did not tell him was why it was so well maintained. Every single time my late husband and I were late for an event, he had to check all the fluids and tire pressure.
“We’re late enough already, dear,” I would say.
And every time he would reply, “If we’re already late then we might as well make it worth it. Just let me check the oil again.” The next time he would want to check the windshield wiper fluid.
The man nodded. “That’s good to know. What else?”
“The seats have been reupholstered more than once,” I told him.
What I did not tell him was that my Pomeranian, Daisy, was a bit of a slut. She often got pregnant by the dogs around the neighborhood. I did not tell him that she had many litters on the backseat of the car.
“How long has it been since the last reupholstering?” the man asked.
Since Daisy died three years ago, I said, “About three years.”
“And how many miles does the engine have on it?” the man asked.
I did not tell him how those miles accumulated. I did not tell him that my husband and I bought this car before our wedding and used it to travel the country for our honeymoon. We went from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. From Vegas, we drove back down to the Grand Canyon in Arizona. We skied in Colorado and advanced to Kentucky to watch the Kentucky Derby. We traveled north to Michigan just to taste Mackinac Island fudge. My husband and I enjoyed that trip.
“The windshield was also replaced recently,” I said to the man.
Why the windshield was replaced would remain a mystery to him. I did not tell him that on one of our Sunday afternoon drives a deer busted through our windshield and landed on our laps.
“The tires are also fairly new,” I said.
I did not tell him that one night my husband and I wanted to go on an adventure. I did not tell him that we found a two-track and drove down, running over nails in the process.
I did not tell him that when my husband lost his job, we lived in the car for three months while he looked for another.
“How many miles to the gallon does it get?” the man asked.
I did not tell him that my husband and I were running low on gas one day. I did not tell him that we had to calculate how many miles per gallon the car got so we could determine what gas station we could make it to.
“I’ll take it,” the man said. He wrote me a check in a hurry and drove off down the empty road as I stood and watched it disappear.
I heard my husband’s voice. “Let it go, Judy. It’s just a car.”
About the Author
Rachelle Ransom is currently finishing her BFA in Creative Writing at Full Sail University and has been published in Story Shack Magazine for one of her flash fiction pieces. Rachelle enjoys writing fiction in the flash fiction, short story, and novel forms. She likes to write in the suspense, thriller, tragedy, fantasy, and horror genres. In her free time, Rachelle enjoys reading and writing.
This book is a collection of two flash fiction pieces about loss and moving on. The two stories found in this book are based off of real life experiences and showcase the reality of life. Moving on is about dealing with two different kinds of losses and how the characters personally cope and handle them. Inside this book, the reader will experience the emotional journey of different characters as they embark on their journey's to accept the change that is happening in their life and continue on.