Give Me Back My Moments
The time when I clumsily gave my first boyfriend a hand job in the park bushes. Shocked at myself for doing such a thing
Author Note: I thought I’d share this story here on Substack as I think it is one of my best flash fiction tales. When it was published a few years ago on Medium it was distributed - which back then was a kind of boost without the money! In fact, I am thinking of taking the tale down from Medium as it has earned only $1.39! I could then republish but I doubt it would gain much more as it is realistic fiction, which the platform hardly ever promotes.
This is precisely why I am writing less and less fiction on Medium, these days. If I want a boost - because I need the cash! - I seem to have to write personal essays.
Anyhow. I hope you enjoy reading it… I know is a fan.
Moments
Walking up to the store counter, I addressed the girl behind the till, “I’d like to buy a …”
The shop assistant interrupted my request and replied, “One moment, please, Madam.”
Turning, she served someone else.
I’m not keen on being ignored. I certainly do not like being called madam. It makes me feel old.
One moment.
What does that even mean? My mind began to spin. The store was warm, I was wearing a winter coat and felt a little dizzy as thoughts and memories crash-landed in my head.
The assistant finished serving and turned to me, “Now Madam. What was it you wanted?”
Looking thoughtful I responded…
“Well — you offered me a moment. But one is never enough. Don’t you find?”
My tongue was sharp, my mind in a whirl, as I continued.
“I’d like all the moments. Even the awkward ones, such as when I finally started my period. The second to last girl in the class, and bled through to my gymslip. The whole hockey team noticed. My face was as rouged as the soiled skirt.
“The time when I clumsily gave my first boyfriend a hand job in the park bushes. Shocked at myself for doing such a thing.
“I’d really like the moment when a soul mate passionately kissed me in the pouring rain. Neither of us concerned about the weather. The sound of the river raging past, drowning out the thudding of my heartbeat. Raindrops dripping from my upturned nose.
“And how about the first time I looked into my newborn’s eyes and realised from that day forward my mind would never belong to just me, ever again.
“Let’s not forget the moments which brought sorrow. The final time I saw Mum before she died. Her eyes lucid. Her mind having reached a clarity that sometimes occurs when a person is ready to go. My heart… breaking. My heart broke.
“I’d pretty much like the moment when I could have walked in here and you would have called me Miss, envious of my youth. That will never happen now, but I do look forward to the future moments which will add to the tapestry of my life.”
The shop girl stared at me open-mouthed.
The buzzing sound of voices from a small crowd who had gathered in the queue jolted me back to reality. As I turned, they quietened. Looking awkward and uncomfortable.
It was clear at that moment I’d made a fool of myself, but I guessed it wouldn’t be the last time.
Try as I might, I could not remember what it was I had come in to buy. So I left the store empty-handed, thinking — now it was my time to wear purple…
Another flash fiction tale from me here: Sixth Sense.
Oh, to even be able to put the details back together with those moments. My son's have asked me to write about some of the most memorable moments of my life, hey, I am doungbgood to remember they even happened. Well written, good movement.
There are moments in our lives we love to remember and some we'd like to forget. Hopefully, as we get older the balance comes down in favour of the former.