"I don't care if you don't want me here. He is my father, and I'm staying to take care of him tonight. You can't make me leave." Blair hissed at Hanna. "Why don't you take the night off instead?" She couldn't help adding in this last part, though she knew it would never happen. Hanna hadn't taken a night off in the past twenty years she had been working for Blair's father. Blair still suspected something was going on, but had never found proof to verify her feelings. Hearing Hanna's sigh accompanied by the sound of her thick leather work shoes clumping down the hallway, she closed the door to her bedroom, glad for the sudden silence.
It had been many years since Blair had been in her old room. She knew her father was sleeping and would be for several hours. His doctor had advised that they let him rest undisturbed and she intended to let him do just that. Her room appeared to be untouched. A finger swiped across the mantel of her fireplace came up with a light layer of dust, confirming her suspicions that no one ever bothered to clean it. Her purple curtains looked faded, though she knew they didn't get any sunlight.
"Well, this won't do. It needs a little touching up. I wonder if Babette is still here." Loathe to give up her peace and quiet after the exhausting day with her father, she decided to do it herself. She opened up her large closet and started rummaging around, looking for something she could use to dust the room with. Her eyes widened as they took in the rows of clothing long forgotten--the short red dress that caused quite a shocking sensation at the Springer Twins debutante party; the emerald green boots she wore to one of her father's golf competitions; her senior high school graduation gown. The further she went into the closet, the more the memories came. They were happy memories of her rambunctious childhood, timeless witnesses to her infallible spirit. Suddenly her smile came crashing down, and her breath caught in her chest. It was her wedding dress.
She turned the dress around on its hanger. Time had made no changes to it. It still hung there with the promise of the happily ever after she never got to experience. Her heart melted as it remembered the pain of losing her love. The tears fell unbidden from her eyes. Her mind traveled where it had not dared to go since his funeral. His smile came to mind first, as it was the last part of him that had faded from her memory. She smiled softly as she remembered his black curls, always tousled, even when he tried to hold them back. For a moment, she thought she could smell him; a faint trace of the Obsession he wore regularly lingered in the air.
She remembered the last time she saw him. He sat on that prized Chopper of his, the sun laying sleepily against the horizon behind him, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm, smiling at her. The wind carried his scent her way, and she took it in greedily. His voice rang out loud and clear. "Goodbye, my sweets. I'll see you soon," was all he said before he put his helmet on and sped off. In less than 24 hours, he would be gone, stolen by the fiery death only a semi can bring. In that instant, her heart froze and she knew she would never love again.
The below was removed to continue this segment., but ended this story in itself.
( Sounds from her father's room broke her from her reverie, so she shook herself off and went to him. )
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This is another piece to my WIP entitled "Weathered". You can read more of the story in the tab above. This is a part of the Red Dress Club prompt about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a closet.
Please feel free to offer critique.
--Stephanie, AKA The Drama Mama
It had been many years since Blair had been in her old room. She knew her father was sleeping and would be for several hours. His doctor had advised that they let him rest undisturbed and she intended to let him do just that. Her room appeared to be untouched. A finger swiped across the mantel of her fireplace came up with a light layer of dust, confirming her suspicions that no one ever bothered to clean it. Her purple curtains looked faded, though she knew they didn't get any sunlight.
"Well, this won't do. It needs a little touching up. I wonder if Babette is still here." Loathe to give up her peace and quiet after the exhausting day with her father, she decided to do it herself. She opened up her large closet and started rummaging around, looking for something she could use to dust the room with. Her eyes widened as they took in the rows of clothing long forgotten--the short red dress that caused quite a shocking sensation at the Springer Twins debutante party; the emerald green boots she wore to one of her father's golf competitions; her senior high school graduation gown. The further she went into the closet, the more the memories came. They were happy memories of her rambunctious childhood, timeless witnesses to her infallible spirit. Suddenly her smile came crashing down, and her breath caught in her chest. It was her wedding dress.
She turned the dress around on its hanger. Time had made no changes to it. It still hung there with the promise of the happily ever after she never got to experience. Her heart melted as it remembered the pain of losing her love. The tears fell unbidden from her eyes. Her mind traveled where it had not dared to go since his funeral. His smile came to mind first, as it was the last part of him that had faded from her memory. She smiled softly as she remembered his black curls, always tousled, even when he tried to hold them back. For a moment, she thought she could smell him; a faint trace of the Obsession he wore regularly lingered in the air.
She remembered the last time she saw him. He sat on that prized Chopper of his, the sun laying sleepily against the horizon behind him, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm, smiling at her. The wind carried his scent her way, and she took it in greedily. His voice rang out loud and clear. "Goodbye, my sweets. I'll see you soon," was all he said before he put his helmet on and sped off. In less than 24 hours, he would be gone, stolen by the fiery death only a semi can bring. In that instant, her heart froze and she knew she would never love again.
The below was removed to continue this segment., but ended this story in itself.
( Sounds from her father's room broke her from her reverie, so she shook herself off and went to him. )
This is another piece to my WIP entitled "Weathered". You can read more of the story in the tab above. This is a part of the Red Dress Club prompt about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a closet.
Please feel free to offer critique.
--Stephanie, AKA The Drama Mama
