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Aftermath

  • William Cass
  • 5 hours ago
  • 2 min read

By William Cass



As a result of his car accident, Gwen’s twenty-eight-year-old son, Luke, lost the ability to speak as well as all mobility aside from very limited functioning of his fingertips.  After his hospital discharge, he moved back home so she could care for him, and over the ensuing months, they both learned truncated sign language as a way for him to communicate.


         In nice weather, Luke liked her to push him out onto the front porch in his wheelchair to sit in the sun.  After doing that one morning, she’d gone inside to get him a lap blanket, and when she returned, she froze in her tracks: like an apparition, Luke’s ex-wife, Cindy, had appeared at the bottom of the porch steps.  As she and Luke stared at each other, Cindy’s face seemed to collapse in on itself.  The last time the two of them had been together had been several years before, the night Cindy left him for another man.  Gwen had never seen Luke so devastated; the accident had occurred the following week, which she blamed entirely on his state of mind.


         In a hushed voice, Cindy told him, “I heard about what happened…your terrible difficulties since.  I just wanted to tell you I’m so sorry.”  Her grimace deepened.  “And I miss you.”


Gwen watched Luke’s eyes brim as he signed: I miss you, too.


         Cindy blinked. “What did he say?”


Gwen’s heart seized with protective rage.  She met Cindy’s hopeful gaze with a steely one of her own and replied, “He says it’s too late for that.”


         From the corner of her eye, Gwen saw Luke try in vain to shake his head.


         Cindy gave a series of tiny, tortured nods, then whispered, “I understand.”


         Gwen watched the young woman turn and hurry down the walkway to her car at the curb.  She placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and felt it heave in silent sobs while his fingertips strained futilely in his ex-wife’s direction.  Cindy didn’t look back.  She just drove away as a soft breeze stirred wind chimes hanging from the eaves of the porch.


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William Cass has published over 400 short stories and won writing contests at Terrain.org, Cardinal Sins, and The Examined Life Journal. He’s been nominated once for Best of the Net, twice for Best Small Fictions, six times for the Pushcart Prize, and had three short story collections released by Wising Up Press. 

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