Writing for Fun
March 2015
The Reunion - Sue Barker
This was it, the day had finally come and Sasha didn't know how she felt. She sat perched on the edge of the big overstuffed armchair in her lounge, she was unconsciously rocking backwards and forwards; it's amazing how you revert to childhood habits in times of extreme stress. She had a bitter metallic taste in her mouth and she wasn't sure she could keep her breakfast down, she gagged slightly. She looked down at the badly chewed nails and a deep sigh escaped her lips.
This was a day of extreme significance to Sally, she had thought about meeting him for years; but then had cancelled every arrangement; sometimes at the last minute, she had no idea if she could go through with it today, but if she didn't there would not be another opportunity. If she met him would it resolve anything? She supposed that at least she would finally hear his version of events but would that be enough?
She sat for another half an hour and then slowly got dressed. What do you wear to an occasion like this? She changed three times and finally settled for her favourite cream suit and burnt orange blouse; she wore it like a suit of armour, it usually gave her confidence and she needed every ounce of that today. She carefully applied her makeup, sighing at her reflection in the mirror; she looked so old and tired. Maybe after today she would treat herself to a spa day; it would give her something to look forward to.
It was ironic she was the innocent party here, but she felt guilty, the weight of the past sat heavily on her shoulders. So what if she had let him down time and time again? Refusing to meet him gave her the only tiny amount of power she had over him. He should suffer; she'd suffered enough because of him. The friends she'd lost, the family divided and her childhood thrown away like a soggy used tissue.
Sasha was eaten up with bitterness whenever she thought back to that day when she was called into the head's office. She had been a very shy, quiet, studious girl and she arrived at the office with a beetroot flush in her cheeks, she knew something was wrong; but had no idea what. Oh the shame, the complete and utter humiliation when Mrs Greasley called her in and Sasha saw her mother there with her Auntie Katherine; whatever had happened Sasha knew it was bad, extremely bad. Auntie Katherine only came out in emergencies so Sasha surmised this must monumental. Mrs Greasley quietly exited the room leaving the three Bailey females together. And then the nightmare started.
Unbeknownst to Sasha; her father had appeared in court today; she had been told he was away at a banking conference. He had been found guilty of fraud and money laundering. The total amount he had stolen was £30,000 and he had been sentenced to five years in prison. It wasn't the amount he'd stolen that gave him the maximum sentence; it was because he had abused his position of trust. The last time Sasha had seen her dad was just before he left for the 'conference'. She remembered that she left the school that day with her Mum and auntie, there were tears dripping from her mother's chin and Auntie Katherine had a face like a storm was brewing, all grey and glowering. Sasha had a week off school, but when she returned the whispering campaign began, she was a crim's daughter so she couldn't be trusted, or so they said. Teenagers are the cruellest animal known to man. She lost every last friend she had, their parents had advised them to avoid her, it's easier in the long run they said. Easier for whom, certainly not Sasha, who spent every lonely waking hour in her room, wishing her father had died. It would have been easier, at least she'd still have friends and they wouldn't have had to move from their lovely home into this miserable flat. It looked as depressing as she felt. Her poor old mum spent all day cleaning houses in the lovely area they once lived in; her pride left the same day her husband did.
Today Sasha was due to see her father for the first and quite likely the last time. He had been out of prison for years; according to the law he had served his time. But in Sasha's book he would never be able to atone for what he had done. He mum died three years ago, she had lived a sad overworked and worn down existence, the bitterness surrounded her like a walnut shell, it never cracked and she never escaped from her well of misery. And it was all his fault, thought Sasha.
Standing across the road from the dilapidated flat, Sasha could see her torn curtains at the window, the paint had flaked off the window ledges and there was a mountain of rubbish in the front garden. At least her father hadn't lived a life of luxury since his release; that was a small crumb of comfort for Sasha, if he had returned to a life of luxury she'd have wanted to kill him.
Sasha slowly crossed the street; her feet felt like they were trudging through wet tarmac, every step was a huge effort. Finally she reached the door; she lifted her hand to the doorbell and after several seconds pressed the bell.
An elderly lady came to the door, she had aged hugely since the last time Sasha had seen her auntie Katherine, she had such a heavily wrinkled face, her mouth appeared to be permanently turned down and she had lost so much weight. Auntie Katherine smiled a very careworn smile, she had missed seeing Sasha so much, but she loved her brother and although he had committed a crime she could still see that her younger brother paid for his crime many times over. He had lost the family he loved. By taking his side Katherine had lost her sister-in-law and favourite niece; it appears that for a victimless crime there were a lot of people suffering. Was it worth it? Losing everything for a measly £30,000? Well, only John could answer that, he would now have to face the toughest judge of all, his daughter.
Lying in the bed was a shrivelled old wreck of a man, the thin wisps of hair sticking out at all angles from his head. The room smelt of death, his time was near, was there anything he could say to make Sasha understand? Of course she wouldn't, he couldn't explain it to himself, let alone to anyone else. It hadn't even been a minute of madness, he had systematically stolen money over a long period of time. Why? He couldn't say, he wouldn't say. Sasha probably wouldn't believe him anyway. She adored her mother, so if he told Sasha that he had paid off the debts her mother ran up, buying unnecessary luxuries, beautiful new clothes and spoiling herself with beauty treatments. When she finally confessed how much she owed it was way beyond anything they had in savings, he had devised a plan to pay it off, he just really wanted it all to go away. So by taking a little money to start with and then more over time he cleared £30,000 debt. Just wanted it to go away? That was almost laughable, go away? He had been put away.
Would she even hear him out? It was doubtful. No-one made him steal it. For God's sake he worked in a bank, why not get a loan? But he knew that they didn't have enough income spare to pay it off, his wife spent more than he could ever earn. These thoughts tormented him over and over again, in the small dark hours, in his cell, while his cellmate snored away. He had no justification, it had just been a chance he had taken, he had hoped to conceal the theft and no-one would have been any the wiser, but luck wasn't his friend.
He could feel someone enter the room, the medication made him so sleepy that he could hardly lift his head. He slowly turned to see the face he most wanted to see in this world before he left it. There she was, his Sasha, a lovely woman now. He opened his mouth and through his cracked lips he whispered, 'I'm so sorry,' and before he could tell her he loved her, his eyes rolled back and he died.
Sasha, looking down on this frail remnant of her father, the grey tinge to his skin, the bones close to the surface; she felt all the years of anger disappear on the wave of tears. All the hateful things she had rehearsed saying in her head, forgotten in a heartbeat. She had wanted to give him a hard time, to make him pay. But she just couldn't. He looked like he had suffered more than she could have hoped for. She surprised herself as she whispered, 'Love you,' words they said to each other at her bedtime when she was a child. When she realised he had died she really hoped he heard her words.