The Circular Wreath
A Flash Fiction by Angela Fitzpatrick
Molly peels her boiled egg and mashes it onto the toast. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she says. It’s been so strange. Lonely. And yet, every room feels like Mum’s still here and I’m holding my breath, waiting for her to speak.
Anna slices her toast into fingers and dips it in her egg. ‘Is there no other food in the house?’ I’ll have to be careful how I handle this. She was always stubborn when she was little. I doubt she’s changed.
Molly shrugs. ‘She liked eggs.’ Mum always did the cooking and the shopping. She swallows a lump in her throat.
‘I remember,’ says Anna. She mimics their mother’s accent, ‘is good for you. Eat the white: lots of protein.’ She takes a deep breath and pauses. Her toast drips yolk onto the table. ‘We need to decide what to do next.’
Molly tenses. ‘Simple. Sell what we can. Split the proceeds. Go our own ways.’ I don’t need you. I can’t rely on you.
Anna softens her tone. ‘What are you thinking of doing?’
‘I want to travel.’ Get as far away from here as possible.
‘What if there’s no money. Or not enough? When I left, the shop takings barely covered the rent. I can’t imagine that’s changed in eight years.’ Anna glances at the framed photograph on the table, showing their mother holding her floristry certificate.
Molly puts down her cutlery with a clatter. ‘I don’t need much money. Just enough to get away. I’ll find work.’
‘Mum wanted you to study. Get a qualification.’ Anna purses her lips at her own curt tone. ‘Sorry.’
‘She wanted us both to go to university,’ Molly says. ‘You skipped out, so I got double the pressure.’ You left me behind. You didn’t warn me, protect me.
Anna nods. ‘I’m sorry about that too.’ I had to get away. I would have taken you if I could. ‘He never…?’
Molly turns away. ‘He tried. Straight after you left. I told her. She kicked him out.’ She never really believed me, though. Probably thought we’d cooked it up between us. It was never the same, after.
‘Shit, I’m sorry. At least you stood up to him. I was too chicken. I just ran.’ I didn’t know what to do. I thought you’d be safe; you were so much younger.
‘Where did you go?’ Though Molly knew the answer.
‘I was lucky; found a job as a live-in maid and housekeeper straight away. I’ve been there ever since.’ No privacy. No social life. No life at all, really. Anna stands and picks up the plates. ‘Though, I think I’m ready for a change.’
Molly doesn’t reply but follows her into the kitchen where Anna puts the plates in the sink, turns on the hot tap and bangs on the wall with the flat of her hand, just like their mother used to do.
Molly comments, ‘I don’t think that actually ever made a difference.’
Anna rolls her eyes and says, ‘force of habit.’
‘Habit came back quick after eight years.’ But she gives a half-smile, and Anna does too. Molly picks up a tea towel. ‘You wash, I’ll dry?’
Anna watches out the window as she rinses the dishes. The light from the shop below makes a bright square on the pavement and people appear from the darkness on either side, cross the space then disappear again. Sometimes they look at the display of brightly coloured blooms, or up at the window at two round, pale faces, then continue on their way.
Molly makes tea, reaches to the back of the cupboard for her sister’s favourite mug, wipes the dust off with the damp tea towel. They sit together on the small sofa facing an ancient TV set.
‘You’ll have to sleep in her bed. I got rid of yours to fit in a dressing table,’ Molly says.
Anna shudders. ‘I don’t fancy that.’
‘You can’t have my bed!’
‘I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. We can get a new bed tomorrow.’
Anna folds her arms. ‘You’re staying then?’
‘Is that okay?’ It’d better be okay. I’ve quit my job.
‘Of course. But don’t you have to get back to work?’ Say no. I don’t want to stay here on my own.
‘There’s no rush.’ Anna shakes her head. ‘What if we don’t give up this place?’
‘What do you mean?’ Molly asks. ‘Sub-let the shop, or what?’
Anna takes Molly’s hands in hers. ‘I’m thinking…I like the idea of coming home. Of us spending time together, I miss family. Maybe I can keep the shop going - go to college and learn to be a florist.’
Molly pulls her hands back and crosses her arms. ‘I just told you I want shot of this place. I want to travel. You can’t just make decisions for both of us.’
‘Please, Mol.’ Anna sighs. ‘I’m trying to have a conversation, not bully you into anything. I just thought I could keep this place going while you travel, give you somewhere to come back to when you’re ready.’ Build up a life for myself here. Make friends.
‘How would that work, though? I need money to travel. We must try and sell the business, and you’ve got a job to go back to.’
Anna stands. ‘I already quit my job.’
‘Liar!’ Molly stands and faces her sister. ‘Why didn’t you say that before? You came here with everything planned.’ She mimics, “I’m just trying to have a conversation.” ‘But you’re not, are you? Just because you’re the oldest!’ Molly slams the living room door, then the bedroom one too.
Anna follows and speaks at the closed door. ‘I’ve got some savings, can give you money to travel. Think it over.’ She returns to the sofa and looks around. I hate the pattern in this carpet. I wonder why Mum had an obsession for circles, so superstitious. And that wallpaper will have to go.
Using her phone, Anna searches courses at the local college.
Author: Angela mostly writes short stories and has been published in Café Lit and Backstory Journal as well as shortlisted in various competitions. She is currently working on her debut novel having recently completed an MLitt in Creative Writing with University of Glasgow.