Old Jeans
flash fiction | not for school
“You’re in the right place to replace those jeans.” Mrs. McGillicutty was helping her nine-year-old pick out pants and couldn’t help but comment to the teenager in the same aisle.
Ray looked up from a stack of folded denim. “I do need another pair, but I’m not getting rid of the ones I’m wearing.” He smiled broadly. “They took a while to get so comfortable and torn in all the right places.”
Mrs. McGillicutty led her son away without further comment, as if distancing from something contagious.
Later, after Mrs. McGillicutty paid for her purchases, they stepped out into the busy Saturday afternoon parking lot. As she was juggling her keys and the oversized shopping bag by her car, a massive SUV behind her backed out of its space. The driver, distracted by a phone, didn’t see the petite woman or boy.
“WHOA! HEY! STOP!” Ray was leaving the store and waved his arms frantically while rushing toward the vehicle to get the driver’s attention. The SUV screeched to a halt, missing Mrs. McGillicutty and her son by inches.
The wide-eyed driver waved an apologetic hand behind the tinted glass and slowly pulled away.
“You guys okay?” Ray quickly glanced around for any other wayward vehicles.
Mrs. McGillicutty stood frozen for a moment before responding, “Yes. Thank you. Truly.”
“No problem. Have a good one.” Ray turned and headed toward a beat-up sedan, his worn-out jeans and Pink Floyd T-shirt moving fluidly with every step. Her father would appreciate the shirt.
As they buckled in, a heavy silence filled the car. She didn't start the engine but gripped the steering wheel and let the tension ease. She looked down at her son, who was staring intently at a small, faded grass stain on his knee, tracing the worn fabric with his thumb.
“Mom?” he asked softly. “Can I keep wearing these? Even if they’re old? They’re my favorite.”
Mrs. McGillicutty glanced out the window at the disappearing teenager.
“Well,” she hesitated briefly, “maybe a little character isn’t such a bad thing.” She paused, “But don’t wear them to school.”
by George Alger
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