I clipped the coupon from the back of History magazine. Two months later, I opened the mailbox, and my grandfather stumbled out, trampling my newly sprung crocuses. “Thought you could bypass me, didn’t you?” I couldn’t speak with my mouth ajar. “I know it’s a shock, seeing as how your father said I was cemented down there!” He pointed with vehemence to the beheaded flowers.
“You’re my g-g-grandfather! I recognize you from the photo Uncle Frank keeps hidden behind Grandma’s in the gilt frame!”
“Yes, that’s right. You can call me Dr. Grandfather. Not in hell, am I? Rude of your father to tell you that.” He pulled a tiny mirror and comb out of the inside pocket of his suit coat, tidying up his thin gray hair, then tucked them back with the stethoscope.
“I’m just shocked because you never cared to visit me up until now. Acted like I didn’t exist!” I squeezed my fists.
“I’ve been busy attending to my patients.”
Was that a smirk? “You spent all your time with your Wife-of-a-Doctor and her kids, while Dad’s family was tucked away, a nasty secret.”
“The pressures of being a doctor are real.” My grandfather narrowed his beady eyes.
“This is what I get for five dollars? I wished for centuries of hard workers. Even a hero.”
Just then a smartly-uniformed soldier in plumed shako jumped out, onto the grass. “Thank you, Descendant. We’ve been after this defect in our line for a long time.” With that, he pushed my grandfather back into the mailbox on the tip of his saber.
Bio: Luanne Castle
