Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss

‘Who is Ray?’ I asked, as my sister turned to face me.

‘I don’t know! Why? What have you found?’ she asked, dropping the other stacks of letters and rushing toward me.

Atsango took the letter in my hand and sat to read it, eyes narrowing as she sipped her hot tea. I watched her facial expressions and smiled. It had been a busy morning of discovery, as we looked through our mother’s things, in the hope of clearing her closet out and donate what we could not keep. I looked round the messy room, determined to finish the task at hand. My sister is a great organizer and had piled things neatly in various boxes.

‘Ah!’ she gasped, as she read the last line, ‘A mystery man we know nothing about! He’s a vet by the look of things! Well, well, well!’ Her eyes open wide and glancing back at the letter, she sat there in wondrous joy. ‘We had to wait until we are in our 50s to find out she dated a man who was smitten with her and all before she met Dad? You do realise this letter comes after his visit to her family upcountry?’

‘She never once mentioned him, which I find odd but anyway…’ my voice trailing off as she interjected.

‘Woohoo! Go Mum! How lovely? This is exciting. Trouble is, it is unlikely her siblings will remember or be willing to discuss this, as they are all older and frail. How sad!’

‘Only one way to find out, is call her elder sister, the sibling she was closest to!’ I added, searching out my phone under the letters closest to me. The few letters conjured up an image of Ray in my mind, as a tall dark and handsome man, confident and focused. This man Ray was a determined and affectionate fellow, as the letters showed us. His few short letters ending with his description of his experience and memories of kissing Mum. I giggled as I dialed our maternal aunt. She picked up quickly and asked if everyone is okay, to which I answered in the affirmative and continued with the litany of traditional greetings before we got to the question of Ray.

Aunty laughed and laughed. She was surprised that Mum had kept the love letters, telling me how quickly the romance had ended after thirteen lovely months. Ray had trained as a veterinarian and had been working for close to three years when he ran into Mum on campus, during a refresher course at Royal Technical College. He was captivated by her quiet, gentle spirit and her classy yet studious bevy of friends.  He told my aunts and uncles about her intelligent friends, all from diverse backgrounds and how engaging their conversation was. They were known as the Merry Birds and dressed simply but beautifully. A picture of Mum and her friends posing in their late 1950s flared skirts and tight pretty sweaters, in stockings, complete in kitten heels, all sporting bouffant hairstyles.  I smiled to myself, as Aunty rattled on, regaling how Mum introduced Ray to them and she recalled how he could not keep his eyes off her. My sister could hear our conversation and made a love heart sign with her hands as listened with me.

Ray was a true gentleman. He privately kissed and cuddled her, while maintaining a healthy but affectionate distance in public.  When he went to visit my Mum’s family, he asked to stay with one of her elder brothers and behaved impeccably.  Our grandmother took to him quite quickly, which was unusual, considering her tough demeanour and character. Ray won over family and friends fast and easy.

‘So why did she let this good man slip through her fingers?’ I blurted out before I could stop myself.

‘Well, my dear, we wouldn’t have you or your sister, or your late brothers either, right? Only God knows. Remember, I was away in Colorado at the time. I asked in my letters but never got a substantial answer. In any case, we were all trying to find our way and let it be,’ she responded. Her wisdom quietened my saddened heart, as I wondered why I felt so much from a few brief letters.

Atsango stirred herself from her chair and went into the kitchen to make us some more tea. We sat in silence, each conjuring up different possibilities of the Ray story. After a few minutes, she reminded me, ‘Ah! We both met Ray, the day we took Mum for her day surgery for chemotherapy!  Remember the tall, dark, nice guy who recognized her in the waiting area and walked her to a seat? Remember how he sat gazing at her, while we dashed around with the admission documents? That’s him! I knew she still had a thing for him!’ speaking with great excitement. After a few minutes she quietly said, ‘And now she is not here.’

A few months after we cleared Mum’s things, we came across an obituary for Ray online. He had passed away at 79, several years after he lost his wife. We wondered some more and finally gave up. I still occasionally ask myself, who is Ray?