Coral Kiss (flash fiction)

My mom’s engagement photo, 1957

I always visit my dad early Sunday. Mornings are better for him than evenings, when he tends to “sundown.” I can’t really hold a conversation with him after dark when he goes on about events from decades ago as if they just happened and struggles to find the right words besides.

Today he's sitting at the kitchen table “doing his taxes.” They were completed months ago by our CPA, but Dad likes to shuffle the papers around, stick them in the colorful folders, and pull them out again. 

I plop a box of donut holes on the counter, get a plate, and arrange a pile of fried balls. I find a spot on the table free from papers and put down the plate. I take the coffee cups out of the carafe and place one in front of each of us. "How's it going today, Dad."

"Good," he says. "I'm making progress on these documents."

I sip my coffee. It's strong and steaming hot. "That's great. Have a donut."

He takes one and stares at it. "Mom visited last night."

My mom has been dead for six months. Sometimes I play along with Dad's fantasies, but I am not in the mood right now. "Dad," my voice is soft. "You know that Mom passed away."

He nods. "Yes. We had some tea. Can you get me more at the store? I don't want to run out."

"I'll put it on the list. But... you know that Mom is gone, right? This was just a dream."

"We were sitting here," he insists. "She's worried about you. The divorce. Everything."

"It's all fine." I tell him, trying to change the subject. "There's a fun old movie today in the social hall. Smokey and the Bandit. I'll set the alarm on your phone so you don't forget."

"I'm not going to forget." He glances at me sharply. "I don't need an alarm. It's irritating."

"Okay, okay." I pick up his phone and set it anyway. 

We eat a few of the donut holes and finish our coffees. I try to tidy up a bit without disturbing his messy mountain of receipts. "I'll call you tonight," I say. "You can tell me about the movie."

He opens the green folder and removes the papers he stuffed in it a few minutes ago. "All right. I should get back to work now. Thanks for the cookies."

As I pass through the kitchen on the way to the door I glance into his sink. There are two cups sitting in it with teabags at the bottom of each. One cup has a lipstick mark. My mother's color, Coral Kiss. I pick up the cup and stare at it.

My father's voice floats to me across the room. "I'll do the dishes in a little while, honey. Don't forget to get more tea."

~*~

Written for the Great Minds Think twist challenge. Inspired by true events.