The Reunion

The ding of the front desk bell tolled ominously like a funeral dirge in the cramped antiques store. Andrew’s head swiveled in all direction, looking for signs of life in between the eclectic items scattered haphazardly about: grandfather clocks, cigarette trays, soda bottles, landscape paintings in ornate frames, etc.

The store appeared to be empty in spite of the cheerful Open! sign in the front window.

“Hello,” Andrew said into the vacant space.

He tried to be patient, but his blood was buzzing like a hive of bees. It had taken him ages to find this place and now that he was here he had to know for certain.

When he didn’t receive a reply he struck the bell twice more with the flat of his palm.

“I’m coming,” a raspy voice intoned some distance away. “I’m coming. These joints don’t move as fast as they used to, you know.”

The ancient wood floors creaked as the old shopkeeper shuffled in from a backroom Andrew hadn’t noticed before, clad in an old apron stained with varnish. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses balanced precariously on the tip of his nose.

The blood pounded in Andrew’s ears. The face he saw before him was thick with wrinkles like a mastiff. His blue eyes were cloudy with age, but still contained a suggestion of playfulness in them as though the evils of the world had not touched him.

“I was making some repairs to an old love seat I received this morning. It takes some time to—“

He paused in his speech upon clapping eyes on Andrew.

Andrew shoved his hands in his pocket, worrying his lips together.

The older gentleman stood frozen, studying the younger man’s face.

“Hi, Jimmy,” Andrew said.

Jimmy listed into an oak desk, jostling the bits and bobs resting on its surface. Andrew jumped to his aid, guiding him gently to a stool. They remained where they were for an age: Jimmy hunched over on the stool, Andrew with his hands supporting the old man’s shoulders to keep him from toppling to the floor.

“It’s alright,” Andrew murmured tremulously. “You’re gonna be fine.”

The older man lifted his head to gaze upon him from behind his spectacles, still bewildered. “You haven’t changed,” he said, his aged voice incredulous. “Not one day since I last saw you.”

Jimmy shook his head. “How? How in God’s name—?”

“I didn’t mean to. I never…” Andrew took a shaky breath. Reluctantly, he freed the old man from his grasp and stepped away from him. It was exactly as he feared. The worst case scenario. “I never come back.”

The genuine shock on the old man’s part was enough confirmation on that score. The enormity of this realization nearly put the younger man off his feet. He had attempted to prepare himself for this event, but no amount of mental exercise could prepare a man for his entire world dropping out from underneath him.

“No,” Jimmy stated with the finality of a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis. “Never.”

Andrew bent double, hands on his knees. He should be tearing through the small shop in a rage, shattering the vintage soda bottles against the walls, shredding the Turkish tapestries. Yet he lacked the strength to so much as make a fist.

“So,” Jimmy said after an age, “I take this to mean your absence was not deliberate.

Andrew drew himself up immediately. “No, no. I would never leave you on purpose.”

Jimmy nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Susie was right then. Of course, I’d always hoped, but you never know about these things. Especially when there’s no body to speak of.”

Andrew wet his lips. “How is Susie?”

“Gone,” Jimmy replied stoically. “Pancreatic cancer. Marigold had a heart attack about two years ago. Or is it three? I’m not sure. The days all blend together when you get to be my age. Things that feel like they happened yesterday happened a decade ago and the reverse. I’m sure you can relate.”

Throat tightening with grief, Andrew nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“It’s strange,” Jimmy mused. “I’ve spent so many years thinking about what I would say to you should we ever speak again. But now that the time has come, I can’t think of a single thing .”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.” Jimmy shook his head. “Who at my age has the time for grudges? I can't say a part of me didn't resent you all those years ago, but life goes on as they say. We muddled through as best we could and we've done well considering."

“I’m sorry.”

The words were not enough to smooth over the pain his absence had caused, but they were all he had.

“I know,” Jimmy said, voice barely audible. He cleared his throat. “Wait here a moment.”

With effort he rose to his feet and shuffled to the back of the store. Andrew waited, drained from their conversation. When Jimmy emerged, he held an leather wallet scarred with age. “I have something I think you will like.”

He opened the wallet and removed a photograph of a young girl. Her long blond hair hung chaotically about her shoulders and a spattering of freckles pocked her heart-shaped face. Nothing was familiar about the girl except for her eyes which shone with contagious exuberance.

“Her name is Annabelle,” Jimmy said softly. “I think she would be very interested in meeting you. She’s been told quite a bit about you.”

Jimmy smiled reassuringly and handed the photo to Andrew who accepted it with a shaky hand.

“I can see you need some time to adjust Are you staying somewhere?”

Andrew confirmed he was.

“Wonderful. Well, I’m here most days. I would be delighted if you chose to stop by. I think once we’ve both had an opportunity to…contemplate things, we will have a lot to discuss.”

“I would like that.”

Jimmy placed a warm hand on Andrew’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s good to see you, dad.”

Andrew forced a painful smile. “You too, son.”