#fff 64: Too late

Photo/Bashny.net

I missed the last few weeks of Flash Fiction because life, so I'm trying to catch up by working backwards!

August 10, 1920

My dearest Jane,

I imagine right now you’re walking down the aisle of the little church on the corner. Father Greer is standing at the altar watching your approach with kind, wet eyes, marveling at how time has passed and how much you’ve grown. He remembers your baptism, smiling down at you as he placed communion on your tongue for the first time, the earnestness of your brow at confirmation.

He has seen you in white before and yet today, as you float down the aisle, he remembers you at four or maybe five, walking with your hand in his, all stick legs and ribbons, asking about hell. Seeing you in that moment brings him joy and fear all at once, for in your vitality he sees his own mortality.

I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today. I’m sitting at the ocean in my own kind of hell. The woman I love is marrying someone else. Yes, I love you. I’ve loved you from the day I moved in next door and spied you sitting on the front porch, lost in a book, as I trudged boxes inside and hoped desperately you’d look up.

I’ve wanted to say it so many times, but I’ve wanted to protect you from the darkness inside me even more than that. And so, waiting at the altar for you today alongside Father Greer, is a better man than I.

I wish I had more to say, but now that I’m finally getting it out, what more can I say beyond this truth? You have been my fellow adventurer, my rule-breaker, my confidante and my champion and today I let you go. I let you go because I love you. I hope you never have to know.

All my love always,
Jayson

I let the paper curl back around my fingers, back into the shape it had held for almost a century. Who was Jane? And who was Jayson? Did he ever kind the courage to tell her how he really felt? 

I toyed momentarily with the idea of finding them, but I knew it was already too late. The tide had turned thousands and thousands of times since Jayson had put his heart out to sea. 

This is a work of fiction. Flash Fiction Friday is a weekly writing prompt exercise led by Elisha Bartels. She posts them on Fridays to her blog and social media and writers use the trigger words to write a short piece of fiction. They post to their space and share with Elisha, tagging others in the group where possible. Feel free to join in!