Write From Karen

Fiction under 250 words.

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“Happy birthday, honey!”

I tried to smile and accepted the silver, foil-wrapped gift from my husband. I was feeling vulnerable and on edge. I was 30. When exactly did that happen?

“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. This was the first year he had actually remembered. Granted, he was four days after the fact, but at least he had finally gotten the month right this time.

I continued to smile at him. I realized that my smile was a cross between painful and hopeful. Perhaps now things would be different. A new job. A new city. There wouldn’t be any more distractions. We could work on starting a family. We deserved a fresh start.

“Open it already,” he said, his voice laced with impatience.

I swallowed my sigh and gingerly opened the gift. It was a beautiful tennis bracelet; the diamonds winked and sparkled at me, as if they were dying to tell me something.

“It’s gorgeous,” I croaked out. And it was. It as by far the nicest gift he had ever given me. In fact, it was the best gift he had given me. I bit my tongue. I wouldn’t start with the paranoia again. It was my birthday. I didn’t want to spoil the tentative truce between us. I managed a smile and carefully pulled it from the box.

I could feel the blood draining from my brain and rushing past my eardrums. I had to ask.

“Did she buy it?”

I braced for his answer.

Fiction under 250 words.

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“So, what do you think yours says?”

Mary glanced over at the woman sitting on her right. She was pretty, long black hair, light brown eyes but she was very, very pale. Mary shrugged and issued a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not sure. I don’t have a history of breast cancer in my family so I’m hopeful.” And she wasn’t really worried. She had always been lucky, with her health, her career – life was good.

The woman visibly swallowed and nodded once. “Unfortunately, I do. In fact, my grandmother and my aunt both died just a few years ago. Months from each other in fact.” She shot a bitter smile at Mary. “Our family hasn’t had the best of luck.”

“I’m so sorry.” Mary resisted the urge to pat her hand. She had never been very good at offering comfort; at least, that’s what her husband always told her. “I’m sure your test results will come back negative.” Mary tried to instill a note of confidence in her voice but deep down, she wondered if the woman was doomed, like the other females in her family.

“Mary Brown?” asked a heavyset nurse with bad teeth.

“Well, that’s me. Good luck.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Doctor Evans walked into his office and sat down behind his desk.

Mary smiled at him.

He did not return her smile.

“I went over your test results,” he said in low, serious tones. “And I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Mary’s luck had run out.