Writing

Short Story: 'Reunited'

I sat in the driver’s seat of my mother’s silver Ford Focus at the intersection of Main and Broad Streets. “I don’t understand why I need to learn to drive,” I moaned as she looked around at the houses that have looked the same for the past 25 years.

“I’m not going to be around to drive you places forever,” my mom responded.

“Ugh. If I’m in New York for an internship this fall, I won’t even need a car. I can walk or take a taxi or the subway.”

“What if you come home because you don’t get a job right away, or you come home for Thanksgiving?” my mom attempted to reason.

“I’ll take public transportation home and have someone meet me here. It won’t happen frequently enough to be an inconvenience. Can’t I just learn after my internship?” my mom rolled her eyes, knowing that there was no use arguing.

The light turned green and I made a right on Main Street towards Slayville First United Methodist Church, the church known for its giant Hershey kiss window in the sanctuary. It was the church I have gone to since birth. While it was a more liberal denomination than many other churches that populated Cowpath Road, I have always felt like it was not liberal enough for my liking. I wanted to move on to a church that better fit her liking, but she had so many responsibilities, like Consistory and choir, that were preventing me from leaving.

W passed the tan-colored church and made their way towards Antonio’s, a popular pizzeria in the small town of Slayville. My mom and I were meeting up with Heather and her father, Steve, who used to live next door for a couple years when I was younger. Heather is a couple years younger than me, but we were best friends. We loved spending hours upon hours together, listening to the latest Cloudy Boys album or playing outside.

I pulled into the parking lot. “I wonder if they’re here yet,” I said out loud. I pulled my phone out of the car’s cup holder to send Heather a text that my mom and I just arrived. Before I could start the text, I saw that Jenna had texted her to say her and her dad were already there. “Just got here,” I said as my mom and I got out of the car. I saw Heather’s familiar face and called out to her.

Heather and I ran towards each other, embracing each other with the strength we had been harvesting inside for the past 12 years of only communicating through Facebook and texting since Jenna’s dad remarried across the state. Luckily, he gets to travel a lot for his job. “It’s so good to see you!” Heather squealed.

“You too, girl,” I replied. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Me too. I’ve missed this town so much!”

“I can’t wait to leave this place,” I said. “This town is too small for my liking.”

“I’d move back in a heartbeat,” Heather said as we headed inside to eat.

Ashley Paskill

Ashley Paskill

Ashley Paskill is a journalism major at Temple University. She has written for a number of publications such as the Odyssey, Her Campus, and the Temple News. She is currently finishing up a semester internship at the Metro Philadelphia as an editorial internship. In her free time, she serves on the leadership at her church.