Of Whispers and Secrets

Spying, 1972. CC3 photo by Daniel Teoli Jr.klp
Spying, 1972. CC3 photo by Daniel Teoli Jr.klp

Trembling, the uninvited tears silently cascaded off my chin as I hid behind the tiger lilies.

John, this is not working out. I don’t want you at that uppity nip joint any longer.

I knew Dad had a night job. It paid much better than the trucking docks.

These aren’t the kinda people that you can just go up to and quit. There are consequences. Repercussions, honey. That’s my job… the repercussions.

They respect you. They asked you to join them. That’s got to count for something.

Respected my knuckles. They respected my size- I usually don’t even have to use my knuckles.

Dad massive arms enveloped mom as she was now soundlessly sobbing.

OK, Vera. I can try to go back to boxing at the gym. That’s where they found me. I can probably strike a deal if I return to the fights.

The outer door shut.

Running to the window and slipping down the escape, I followed Dad.



Written for Flash Fridays (A requirement of 150 words- a 10 words grace.)

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