Short Fiction Break

Break From Reality. Daily.

The Appointment

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This story by Erin Halden is the Grand Prize winner of the 2016 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the Winter Writing Contest stories here.

Erin Halden writes. Sometimes she gets paid; sometimes she doesn’t. She keeps writing anyway. She got her start as editor-in-chief and sole reporter for Spot News, the main daily newspaper on Jupiter (at the age of seven, no less). She can be found on her website and on Facebook and Twitter (@erinhalden).

The Appointment

“I’m not doing it.”

“But you like Aunt Kat.”

Julia rolled her eyes.

“You’ll do as I ask,” snapped Julia’s mother. “Or no car this weekend.”

“That’s not fair,” shouted Julia. “She’s your sister. You take her.”

“I’m in meetings all day.” Julia’s mother shrugged into her black blazer and grabbed her computer bag. “Kat can’t drive herself. She’ll be too sick after.”

“Can’t she take a cab?”

Julia’s mom stamped her feet into her black pumps. “That’s enough, Julia. Be at your Aunt Kat’s at three o’clock, right after school. I’ll see you tonight.” She disappeared into the garage.

Julia dragged on her backpack and grabbed the keys to the hand-me-down Toyota Corolla her parents liked to remind her she was lucky to have. Not everyone has their own car at sixteen, Julia. A car with a back seat full of burn holes from the time her stupid older brother tried to smoke cigarettes with his stupid friends and glitter nail polish all over the dash, spilled by her airheaded older sister.

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, now her aunt would probably puke all over it. Julia reversed down the driveway, dreading the day ahead of her.

 

Julia knew what to expect. She’d gone to one of Aunt Kat’s chemo appointments with her mother, six years ago. Stuffy waiting room, sick people shuffling in and out, hushed voices. Aunt Kat, IVs in her arm like porcupine quills, acting like everything was fine, asking Julia about school, trying to smile.

Julia would have to prop her up after, walk her to the car, like she and her mother had six years ago. And that was when Kat was stronger. Would she even be able to stand this time? The last time Julia saw her, at Christmas, her eyebrow-less face hung slack, her frail frame shook even when she sat.

Julia had kept her distance.

 

At 2:54 pm, Julia pulled up in front of 824 Laurel Street. She turned the car off and dropped back against the seat. Her aunt’s bungalow looked smaller. And more exposed, somehow. Had she lost a tree in her front yard? Julia couldn’t remember. Had it always been white? In Julia’s memory, it was yellow.

She used to know Aunt Kat’s house better than her own, she’d spent so much time here. Aunt Kitty Kat – that’s what Julia had called her back then – even gave Julia her own room. And she never, ever told her to clean it. Julia’s older brother and sister thought Aunt Kat was weird, so Julia got her all to herself. She’d spent so many afternoons alone with her aunt, which often turned into sleepovers, with her tucked up in bed while Aunt Kat made up wild stories about magical lands. For months after her Aunt Kat read her The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Julia went into every closet in every house they went to, looking for a way into Narnia.

That’s enough, Julia.

They used to do other things, but Julia couldn’t remember now.

Aunt Kat was an artist. A painter, mostly. She turned her house into art. She painted murals on the walls, the ceilings, the floors. “Life is my canvas, Jules,” she used to say.

“I have fairy blood, you know,” Kat had told her once. Julia was seven. With her wild black hair, porcelain white skin, bright blue eyes, and tiny frame, she could be a fairy, Julia had thought. All she was missing was wings.

“Is that really true?” Julia had asked.

“Do you believe it?” asked Kat.

Julia nodded. She wanted to believe it, anyway.

“Then it’s true,” said Kat.

 

Julia checked her phone. 2:59. One more minute. Then she’d have to walk across the flagstones to the front door, ring the bell, and face what was left of her aunt. The treatment’s gonna kill her before the cancer does.

Her aunt was slow to open the door. A thin red dress hung on her skeleton frame and a blue turban covered her hairless head, picking out the blue in her eyes, the only part of her that had any life left.

“Julia!”

“Hi, Aunt Kat.”

“Come in.”

The living room furniture was just as Julia remembered, but the murals on the walls were gone.

There was just splotches of formless color splashed here and there. Perhaps her aunt was experimenting with abstract art these days.

She walked past a puddle of blue paint on the floor, long dried. She remembered. She’d spilled that paint, one day. “That patch of floor needed something special,” Aunt Kat had said. And she and Julia had transformed the spilled paint into a pond filled with goldfish and white-flowered lily pads and spotted frogs. She could still feel the warm water on her hands, perfect for swimming.

But it couldn’t have been warm, frowned Julia.

“I made your favorite. Oatmeal raisin cookies, extra cinnamon-y. They’re in the kitchen. Follow me.”

Julia fidgeted. “Don’t we have to go? Your appointment and all?”

“We have some time.”

Her aunt’s paints were out, her two-person table and chairs pushed away from the color-splashed wall. She handed Julia a cookie.

Julia took a bite. The taste caught in her throat. She’d forgotten how good her aunt’s cookies were. How much fun she’d had making them. Aunt Kat always let her pour in as much cinnamon as she’d wanted. Somehow they’d always turned out perfect.

Julia cleared her throat. “What are you working on?”

“I’m adding flowers to the forest scene,” said Kat.

Yes, that’s what the kitchen mural had been. Julia remembered now. But there was no forest scene on the wall now. Just random color. She squinted at the wall, trying to see anything resembling, well, anything.

“It’s gets harder to see as you get older,” said Kat. She picked up her brush, dipped it in purple paint, and began adding splotches to the wall.

“How are you feeling these days?” Julia asked into the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m dying, Jules.”

You’re going to have to hold her up while I get the car. Stuffy clinics, IVs. Julia crossed her arms against the water welling in her eyes. “That sucks,” was all that came to her.

Aunt Kat smiled and held up a brush. “Paint with me.”

“But I can’t see the forest.”

“Do you believe it’s there?”

Julia nodded. She wanted to believe, anyway.

“Then it’s there.”

Wiping away an escaped tear, Julia dipped the brush in red paint and turned to face the wall, unsure what to do next. She glanced at her aunt. And, she could see. The purple paint was a flower, delicate petals balanced on a swaying green stem. Next to a graceful birch tree. In a patch of wildflowers, and the base of a tall oak.

Julia sucked in her breath as the forest scene assembled itself before her. And she remembered. This is what they used to do. She touched her brush to the wall. A red rose swirled out. She did it again, and again, rose after rose. She laughed and stepped forward, off the linoleum and onto soft grass. The smell of roses wafted around her. She painted a bluebird. It chirped.

Her aunt laughed. “You remember how,” she said.

“Why did I forget?”

“That’s what happens when you grow up.”

“I don’t want to forget.”

“Remember, then.”

Together, Julia and Aunt Kat walked through the forest, painting flowers, frogs, dragonflies. Julia ran her hands through grasses, and they bloomed. She touched rough bark, and moss spread. She swiped away clouds, gathered warm sun on her face, shook her hair in the lilac breeze. Laughing, she painted a wild mane of black hair on her aunt, filled in her hollow cheeks. “That’s better.”

Her aunt painted a fallen log on the shore of a shimmering blue lake, and they sat down together.

“I want to be seven again,” said Julia.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“I don’t want all this to die.” Julia choked on the words.

“Do you believe it lives in your heart?”

Julia nodded.

“Then it will never die.”

Julia held her aunt’s hand and they watched the sun set in the forest.

“We missed your appointment, Aunt Kitty-Kat.”

“That’s okay, Jules.”

As Julia walked back to her car, she noticed her aunt’s house was yellow.

 

“The funeral’s on Thursday.” Julia’s mother’s eyes were red and swollen. “I found this, when I was going through Kat’s things. It has your name on it.”

She handed Julia a small canvas. It was covered in splotches of paint.

“It doesn’t look like anything,” said her mother. “Do you know what it is?”

Julia held her breath, tears spilling down her face. Her mother shrugged and left Julia’s room.

Julia blinked once. The paint swirled. She blinked again. She saw a forest. Blink. A cloud-streaked sunny day. Blink. Flowers. Blink. A portrait of Julia. Age seven.

Julia breathed out. “I’ll remember.”

Comments

  4. Tha Appointment short story is a beautiful, poignant, well written story of a situation that many of us face. Through Julia, we learn that our perceptions is our reality…we need to trust them.

    Reply

  5. What a wonderful story. I agree it took just a few words to tell a story of two lifetimes. I couldn’t stop the tears because it was real.

    Reply

  6. Lovely story…made me think that Julia had been with Aunt Kat when she passed over into a more beautiful place.

    Reply

  7. This is a lovely story, precise in phrasing and economical in telling a full story of regrets. A great reminder that we need to appreciate what we have while we have it…..

    Reply

  10. Hi Erin
    I loved your story! Julia and Kat felt so real and the descriptions of the painting and forest were vivid and evocative, in wonderful contrast to Kat’s debilitating illness. I especially loved the part were Julia restored Kat’s wild, black hair back.
    Definitely one of my favorite stories!
    Good luck in the contest,
    Georgina

    Reply

  11. FANTASTIC! Wonderfully written. The description and style of writing truly sucked me into the story, I felt like a fly on the wall. Favorite story I have read! Congrats and good luck!

    Reply

  12. Very moving story…I could picture it as if I were painting with them. Though it was a drama, set in the present, there was a bit of magic that took you on an adventure out of the present, and away from the everyday “stuff” we allow ourselves to focus on too much. If only we all could stay 7 forever.

    Reply

  13. The story caused me to reflect on some personal experiences and that making memories and having a “special” place for our memories helps make us all unique. This helps us to understand the human condition and put things into perspective.

    -Harry Halden

    Reply

  14. Wow! That made me remember my nana before she passed away. She had cancer too. Such a touching story – congratulations on winning.

    Reply

  22. I’m still crying! Such a beautiful story. Thank you for taking this theme and turning it into such a beautiful, heartwarming story. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that you won -congratulations!!!!

    Reply

  23. Great story. Reminds me of my teenage rebellious years. Yes, even P.K.’s have problems. P.K? Preacher’s Kid!

    Reply

  25. Such a beautiful story and well written. Very emotional and I felt like I was painting along with them. I can relate to the story myself as I watch my own mother going through chemo. Sometimes we think we have time with our family and friends until one day we don’t.
    Congratulations!!

    Reply

  28. Hi, Erin, you crafted such a tender, evocative story of a niece and her favorite aunt enjoying their last time together filled with love in the present and fond memories of the past. Beautiful writing well-deserving of winning. Congratulations!

    Reply

  31. WOW Erin! You are such an excellent writer! You have such a gift of making one “SEE” the whole story while reading! I had just finished reading your other story about the PALM READING and then saw your name again and needed to read another of your tales! I was very emotional while reading it and it also truthfully inspired 2 stories that I hope to write in the future! You are terrific! Congrats!

    Reply

  32. The story was perfect until this sentence: And, she could see. Then it turned into something very childish. It could be much better and deeper if you gave it enough time to flourish.

    Reply

  33. Erin, that’s was the best story I have ever read. It rings like the truth. The way you wrote it made it poignant and the dialogues and feelings fit in very well.

    Reply

    • Thank you for reading Vanessa! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story! You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just find me under the Staff tab!

      Reply

    • Thank you for reading Alli! And thank you for taking the time to make a comment. It means a lot to me to hear what people have to say about my stories. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab!

      Reply

    • Thank you for reading San! And thank you for taking the time to comment. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab!

      Reply

  36. What seemed boring at first drew me in when they started to paint (a painter myself) and the choice of the writer’s colors:
    1) PURPLE = DIVINITY, SPIRITUALITY
    2) RED = LIFE ITSELF AND PASSION FOR LIFE
    3) BLUE (my favorite color) = CLEARING OF THE MIND AND SPIRIT

    It was the colors for me that made the story magical and took it from a “humdrum” story to a work of art.

    Reply

    • Thanks so much for reading Timothy! I love that it was the colors that pulled you into the story! You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

  37. My goodness. I am sobbing. This story is so simple, moving, and true. It touches my heart. Great. Really great. Thank you for helping me feel the loss of so many people.

    Reply

    • Thank you for reading Katie! It’s alway amazing to hear from a reader. Thank you for taking the time to leave me a comment. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

  38. Impressive, effective. Penetrates my heart. Blink, I walk through the forest with them. I repeat after Julie: “I’ll remember” .
    .

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    • Thank you for reading Doris! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

  39. In read this story, I think it is outstanding and well organized. The writing is well execute. The story line put us in touch with ourselves and each others. There is always ways something to bring us back to the reality of family. Congratulation, this is a brilliant reality.

    Reply

    • Thank you for reading Juanita! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thank you for reading Ebose! And thanks for taking the time to comment. I always love hearing from a reader! You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thanks for reading Areen! I’m glad you enjoyed the story! You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thank you for reading Edel! It’s always amazing to hear from a reader. Thank you for taking the time to comment. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thanks for reading Abdullah! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thanks for reading Jacqueline! And thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

  46. To put that much emotion in short sentences is truly a gift. Oh, to write like that. Well, maybe someday!

    Reply

    • Thanks for reading Linda! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. Thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. It’s always amazing to hear from a reader. You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

    • Thank you so much for reading Abe! I’m glad you enjoyed the story! You can read more of my stories on Short Fiction Break’s website – just look for my name under the Staff tab – or on my website, erinhalden.com.

      Reply

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