A Flash of Fiction #2

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

Luck of the Draw

I wanted a lot of things for Christmas, but cancer definitely wasn’t one of them.

Of course, we don’t know if it’s cancer yet. The test results should come back soon. Right now, Mom and I are waiting by the fire. Waiting for Dad to get home. Waiting for Doctor Cardif to call with the test results.

The fire pops, bringing me back to the now. Mom’s crocheting a beanie when she looks up at me.

“Drink your hot chocolate, Lawrence. I put peppermint sprinkles in it.”

“I don’t want any, Mom. I don't feel well.”

I'm not well. Not well at all. I know she thinks it, but she’d never say it. Instead, she tries to smile. “Oh, Lawrence. You’re fine. Drink your hot chocolate.”

“No. I don’t feel well.”

She gives up and goes back to crocheting. I don’t know why she’d make a beanie. I never wear hats. Dad doesn't, either. He says long hair's the best hat there is.

She looks up again. She’s the one who really doesn’t look well. Are those tears in the corners of her eyes? I give in and pick up my mug.

The hot chocolate warms my chest. I rub the marshmallow foam from my top lip and fake a smile. She smiles back. It’s a better smile.

“Why don't we play North Carolina Rummy while we wait?” I ask. It’s her favorite game. Only a month ago we'd play it every night. Something normal right now would be nice.

“Oh, I’d love that, Lawrence. I’ll get the cards.” She sets her needles and yarn down on the fireplace and gets up.

She comes back, cards in hand, and places them on a tray in between us. After she sits down again, she deals out the cards, making sure the deck and discard pile are lined up perfectly.

“All right, Lawrence. First round is two sets of three.” A smile, a real smile, lights up her face. It makes her look a lot younger. Less scared.

I sip my hot chocolate and pick up my cards. They’re terrible, which is really saying something for a round one hand. I don’t even have two of the same card.

A quote, a favorite of my dad's, pushes its way into my mind. “It’s not the cards you’re dealt, it’s how you play your hand.”

I grin at Mom. “I guess I have to draw.”

I draw a five. Now I have two fives.