Ava Fried: A Short Story

Title- By Ava Fried

Her jet black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Hairspray made the loose curls keep, while the pins kept it in place. Makeup concealed the dark circles which preceded underneath her eyes. Her tear streaked skin soaked in the arid pressing powder as her aunty continued to paint her face as though she were a doll. Aunty May had put a lot of effort into getting Allegra ready today. She bought her a dress last week, a black one. It had lace sleeves with tiny flowers cascading down the middle. It reminded Allegra of her mother, of a time when she was truly happy.

We had reached our destination just as the sun began its descent. Sighing contentedly, I followed my mother as she walked towards the top of the hill to observe

“Darling, Ben said he and May would gladly to take her in,” Christie said with irritation. Allegra did not like the way she was spoken about, nor did she appreciate it. Spoken like she was a dog they found on the streets, futile and unwanted. “She’s my daughter,” the man in the grey suit replied. It’s what he said every night. He would say Allegra was his daughter. But how could that be when he isn’t present enough to be her father, to be a figure of some sorts. He left her when he left her mum. When she begged him to come back, he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t even react. He just stood there, shrugging his shoulders as he always did when anything got complicated. Allegra had realised a long time ago that she would never get the approval she was looking for. She did not want to be a burden to him, a fly on the wall ( bad analogy?) . She was too frightened, confused and unable to express that she needed him and craved that fatherly attention. Too afraid that she would become an annoyance and he’d just swat her away, like he did to her mother. But he was just a cold man living in an icy

Everything happened as it usually did. Only this time the man in the grey suit wore black. The funeral home stunk of lilies and oriental carpet. The doors opened and her mother’s closest male friends and family carried the coffin out. It was a plain thing. But it had a simplistic beauty just like the woman inside it. Allegra walked over to the coffin, shakily she stepped forward. She reached for the pale pink rose Uncle Ben had given her before. Everyone else had already stood in front of her mother’s coffin and thrown in their roses. She was the last one. But how could she say goodbye? A loud impatient cough echoed from the back of the room. The man in the black suit stood in the back, dry-eyed and with his arm around Christie. They had been whispering. She looked bored. Clutching the rose with both hands, Allegra swiftly threw her uncle’s flower into the casket. At this point she gathered the realisation that she never truly has to let go, her mother will always be with