If You Have Ghosts

The 7th of May, 1998

May 7th, 1998

Today was a difficult day for Florence. It was the day she laid the father of her unborn child to rest. The circumstances were tragically odd, there was some massive explosion at the boarding school he was attending. He along with dozens of other students died last Saturday.

Florence attended the graveside services for the dozens of students lost that day. He was only a month away from graduating. His family comes from money, he had already bought a home for them to live in after graduation and they were planning to elope before the birth of their child. Sadly, his family didn't know about her. He said something about being from totally different worlds, she assumed it was the difference between being rich and poor.

Wren, as she preferred to be called, stood among the masses clad in black, some more strangely dressed than others. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't identify his parents among the hundreds of mourning faces.

She knew no one there, it was just her and their unborn child Elsie, who was just two months shy of being born. As she wandered among the graves from a healthy distance, she found his name elegantly etched in gold with a mirror black stone. Several people were standing around, and she presumed they were his family. They were a severe-looking group compared to the other families around them. Their designer clothing and stiff demeanor created an air of aloofness.

As those individuals dispersed she noticed that the family at the grave next to his stone remained. There was no doubt they were related, their hair color was all a vibrant red. Their grief gravitated her way and she let herself go.

She sat by the stone and stared at the gold-etched letters and numbers. This was what he was reduced to. She was unsure of how long she sat there feeling numb and empty but the kicking in her stomach brought her out of her spiral.

Wren smiled, rubbing her stomach, she vowed that Elsie would know she had a father who loved her, even if she would never meet him. When she looked around she noticed most people were gone. A single ginger-haired boy was sitting just as she was.

He was talking to the stone as if it were going to talk back to him. Wren didn't mean to stare but there was something about him that she couldn't help but notice. He looked over toward her and nodded slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment of each other.

Wren tried to get up but it was rather ungraceful, after all, she had a stomach the size of a beach ball throwing her balance off. She began to wonder how she even got down to begin with. She gave up momentarily and lay there staring at the afternoon clouds sobbing openly. She was unable to get up, she was alone, and she felt awful. After a few moments, there was a shadow of movement above her and she opened her eyes to see the red-headed boy.

There was a small half-hearted smile forming, "Do you need help, Miss?" Wren just nodded her head, hoping to contain her tears. She shuffled to her side and managed to sit up. She took his offered hand but her balance was so off center she couldn't manage to hoist herself up. Those muscles commonly used for such tasks were stretched beyond their normal capabilities. She plopped back down, completely embarrassed, "I am so sorry, please just leave me here, I'll eventually get the energy to get up on my own."

The ginger squatted down to her level, "What kind of person would I be to leave a pregnant woman rolling around on the ground?"

Wren started to laugh, the first time in a week, as she pictured herself wiggling around like one of those oversized seals sunning themselves on the beach. She looked at him just then and his smile was sad but there was a sparkle in his eye. "I can only picture those enormous seals that flop around sunning themselves."

He chuckled, "Well, we can't have you flopping around." Wren smiled warmly at the boy, he shifted behind her and lifted her from under her arms.

"Thank you." Wren nodded her head toward the ginger once she was on her feet. Quietly she turned and began to walk away, her sense of proper etiquette flew out the window days ago when she heard the news. She was on autopilot.

"Good Luck" she heard the redheaded boy call after her.