Drive-In Saturday

• Maeve Mcbratney, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

The cool wind, welcomed and calm, whistled and wisped along her grey hair. At dusk the park was always like this; a comforting balance between the heat of midday and cold of night. Children played in a nearby cleared field and screamed with glee. Their parents sat on picnic blankets on the outskirts, near the tree line that encompassed the park. The old woman, her head down, strolled along the pathway that wound around the main area.

After reaching her destination, an old and well-worn bench, she gently sat down. Though that afternoon was cheerful, she was not. The wrinkles that lined her face like an artwork depicting her past joys seemed to only depict sorrow. Not superficial sorrow; born of brief unhappiness, but the profound sorrow of deep hurt.

Earlier that day while cleaning she had found an old shoebox amongst her husband, Tom’s, belongings. It was slightly ripped, greyed, and obviously of much personal importance. Amongst his sentimental objects and papers was a dull ring. Finding an unknown ring amongst his most prized items was devastating. Marriage is based on trust, so she was shocked that he lied. Or simply failed to tell.

She needed to get out. The park was older than she was, which was rare, and in the ever-advancing world, it was comforting. The grass still grew green and strong for every generation that passed through. So there she went.

She looked up from her bench, where children were being called in by their mothers, and she was enveloped in the past. The glory days where the field was once a drive-in cinema. When happiness and young love were the only things occupying her mind. Where a younger version of herself, with hair less grey, eyes less tired, and body less aching spent time. On that Saturday she recalled, she pulled up to the cinema with company.

“Thank you for driving me Thomas,” she politely thanked her date.
“No problem Missy,” he replied, “and you can call me Tom.” Missy pushed her blonde curls behind her ear and blushed.

The night was a flurry of sweet gestures and by the end of the film, their future together was already written. The screen turned black, and with the air silent, she leaned into Tom’s shoulder. After minutes of perfect stillness, Missy noticed Tom pull something glinting from his pocket. A silver ring.

Tom placed it on her finger, and she accepted. It shined on her right hand and symbolised their young love. At this, she was jolted from her past, and looked down at the ring. The old, worn-down thing in no way resembled the bright piece of jewellery she remembered. Time didn’t take well to this object, and neither to her memory.

A solemn tear escaped and glided gracefully down her cheek. She slid the old ring onto her finger, above her wedding ring. It was just as valuable. But having that ring forced her to admit it.

That he was actually gone.