What about a less than happy ending for today’s photo prompt about writing endings? I don’t mean a complete downer–life has enough of those. But how about one that is not totally upbeat, maybe an ending that has both positive and negative elements? When I came across this portrait, it got me to imaging how this woman could fit into an ending. And she doesn’t look happy.
Here’s what I created for a less than happy ending.
Amy, Rachel, and I descended the steps of the police station. I zipped my coat as a sudden gust tore down the street.
“It’s all over,” Rachel sighed.
At the bottom step, I said to Amy, “I’m glad I had the chance to help you, no matter what happened, to prove how sorry I am.”
Amy had been gazing down the street as fat flakes collected on her hair. Now her head swiveled to me, and I knew that stare. I’d seen it since we were kids.
“What makes you think you’ve proven anything?” she said in that ice-cold tone that sunk into me better than fangs.
“He nearly died saving you,” Rachel shouted. “If that doesn’t prove it, nothing will.” She blinked. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? Jake can’t reconcile with you because you won’t let him. Not because he doesn’t want to.”
That was the truth. All these years, I had thought I hadn’t tried hard enough to make up for the way I treated Amy, and it really came down to Amy didn’t want to forgive me. She liked wielding the power of unforgiveness.
I drug in a deep breath of frigid air, shoving my hands deep in the pockets of my coat. “If you ever want to act like a real sister, Amy, I’ll be ready.” I headed down the sidewalk, Rachel falling in step beside me.
“You were never a real brother to me.” Amy’s quiet voice sliced through the snowflakes.
I stopped. “Not when we were kids. But I am now.”
“You got that right,” said Rachel, giving me a tired smile.
We turned the corner at the end of the block, and I didn’t look back.