Flash 52: Full Circle

I'm doing a project
this year called Flash 52 - in which I attempt to write one flash
fiction (1k words or less) story per week from prompts I came up with
last month. This week's story will be available for one
week.

Week 4 Prompt: A woman walks through a park in her hometown, reflecting in the crisp
autumn air. The old carousel is still there, though no longer
operational, and she climbs the fence and goes to visit the horse she
used to call her own. Glancing between the broken mirrors that line the
center control room, she spies an old teddy bear lying against the
console...Full Circle

Kari had come back for the reunion, but when the time came to enter the gym and face all her former peers, she couldn't do it. Not yet, at least. Instead, she kept walking past those double doors and across the playground, into the community park beyond. Leaves crackled beneath her feet, the crisp, cool air far more fresh than the city atmosphere she'd become accustomed to.

The park had been her personal haven growing up, and as she wandered through the unkempt grass she marveled that it had remained untouched all these years. Her steps slowed, her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled, tilting her head up towards the setting sun for a moment of bliss.

Veering off to the left, she made her way through a copse of trees that were no longer the saplings she remembered. Pushing her way through the overgrown thicket on the other side, she wished she'd left the cashmere sweater at the hotel.

Then she looked up, and all thoughts of ruined clothing disappeared as she saw the old carousel still standing ten yards away. Her old friend, the white horse with flying mane and tail waited as though the past ten years had never happened, the holly wreath faded less than she would have thought. Stepping over the low wooden fence, she climbed up on the platform, running a hand over the smooth plastic of the horse's body.

Her first kiss had happened right in that very spot. Grinning, she remembered how nervous Steve had been, standing beside her, his arm around her waist as she moved up and down with the music. The moment the ride had stopped, he'd pulled her down to his level and ruined her for all other men.

Later that summer, another first late at night after everyone had gone, on the colorful bench just two animals back. She went to sit down, testing the strength with her hand before settling back in the sloped seat.
 
She'd told him about the baby here. He'd listened, and held her as she cried. Not long after, he'd gotten down on one knee in the middle of the night, a teddy bear in one hand and a ring in the other.
 
That was the last time she'd been in town. She'd wanted to call, to apologize, to try to make it right. But the part of her that thought he could have - should have - come after her kept her from dialing  the phone. Pretty soon, too much time had passed, years slipping away in a whirlwind of diapers, first steps and birthday parties. Every day a reminder, every question about his father more insistent. Finally she'd called, hanging up when a woman answered the phone.

Steve was here, or so the attendees list had said. She would tell him tonight, give him the choice he should have had long ago.

With a sigh she rose, knowing it was time. Turning, she glanced into the mirror-lined control room of the carousel, and froze at the object propped up against the far wall, exactly where she'd thrown it that awful night. Could it be?

She went inside and picked up the dark fuzzy teddy bear, the blue ribbon still tied in a bow around his neck. Surely it couldn't be the same one, but she marveled at the simularities.

"I thought you'd come here. I know about our son."

She whirled around and there he was, older, more distinguished, but the same man, nonetheless. Leaning relaxed against the doorframe, he still took her breath away.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. He wants to know you."  The words tumbled out quickly, and she cursed herself for sounding so desperate.

Steve walked toward her, stopping a little too close for comfort. "My sister told me you called. Or she thought it was your voice. Why did you hang up?"

"I didn't want to intrude on your life," she said, looking away. "It's been so long, and I know you probably—"

"Did you ever marry?"

The interruption shocked her, and she slowly shook her head. He grinned.

"Me either." He held out a hand. "Let's skip the reunion and get some dinner. You can tell me all about him."

She hesitated. "You're not mad?"

"I was angry for a long time. Years, actually. And I still want answers. But first, I want to see pictures. Do you have some?"

She nodded, placing her hand in his, the other holding the bear. They walked out of the park together, and spent the evening making the past disappear. In the dark hours of the morning, he dropped her off at her parent's house.

"I want to meet him, soon," he said, and her heart rejoiced.

"He's coming tomorrow. He wants to meet you too. He's been asking for years." She fought back the fear that her son would want to stay, choosing to be calm in the face of something that would change their lives forever. "Will you come to dinner?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

The next night, she stood on the front step with her son, waiting. She bit her bottom lip, worried that he wouldn't come. That somehow she'd misunderstood.

Then he came up the walk, holding the bear and a bouquet of white roses, handing both off to her before he embraced his son and brought tears to her eyes.

Later that night, after dinner and games and stories and hugs, he carried thier little man up to bed and tucked him in. When everyone else had retired and it was just the two of them on the couch, she finally told him why she'd decided to keep the baby after all.

Six months later, the three of them visited the carousel again.

This time, she said yes.

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