Wednesday, September 28, 2022

Wednesday Briefs: Bad Karma and the Family Plan #42 (8.5)

Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

Bad Karma and the Family Plan #41 (8.5)

“I’m so sorry.” Maureen continued to apologize for her ill-mannered child, even though she clearly wasn’t to blame for his bad behavior. And honestly I couldn’t fault the minister either. Face it, Joe Jr. was just a bad egg.

Ethan, Sarah, and Benny were quick to assure her that his words were not his fault, while I maintained a stoic silence. Both because I didn’t feel it was my place to intrude in this family moment and also because I had nothing but expletives to use regarding him and didn’t think that would be appropriate behavior on my part.

The minister retreated to his study, at least momentarily, leaving the rest of us to ourselves.

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners? I bet you’re all thirsty after your long trip. What can I get you?”

We all protested that we didn’t want to be any trouble but in the end Maureen prevailed, and Benny went into the kitchen with her to help bring out glasses of homemade Southern sweet tea. Not until everyone was settled with their drink, including Alex who was enjoying fruit juice in his special cup Grandma kept just for him, did the conversation return to the original subject of Joe Jr’s missing wife.

“Heather moved out suddenly one day,” Maureen explained. “I don’t know her reasons as I haven’t talked to her. And Joey hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information.” She sighed. “Haven’t seen her or heard from her since then. Neither has Joe, and you know how close they were.”

Ethan and I exchanged glances but neither of us said a word. Didn’t seem appropriate somehow. Also, what could we say? From where we stood, they seemed closer than close. I didn’t want to be the one to accuse Ethan’s father of infidelity without at least some evidence of it, but they sure gave a good impression of being cheaters.

Well, there was that time we caught them shopping together, back when I was dressed like a woman and Ethan’s mother was in the hospital, before I came out as me. There was a negligee in their cart, a delicate little red thing, it was. And never mind that until we saw them, I had the strangest feeling Ethan was angling to get one of those same skimpy garments for me to wear. Thank goodness, that never happened.  Truth be told, we never did receive an explanation of what was going on that day, and they never offered to explain.  Not like we asked, either. Talk about awkward. I had ended up diffusing the situation by pretending to be hurt, thus drawing Ethan’s attention to something other than his possibly cheating father.

Still, although that in and of itself might look damning—and trust me, it did—I don’t think that testimony would fly in a court of law.

Caught up in my own thoughts, I almost missed what Maureen said next. That Joe’s insurance business had gone belly up (my words, not hers), and that’s why he was back home. Unemployed, without his wife, and generally miserable.

I could have told her he struck me as a very miserable person who deserved everything he got, but I wisely held my tongue.

Evening was already approaching. I hadn’t noticed before but a delicious aroma emanated from the kitchen, one that made my mouth fairly water. And reminded me we had miles to go before we slept, unfortunately. Ethan must have read my mind. We exchanged glances. I could see he felt worse than I did. It wasn’t often he was able to enjoy being in the bosom of his family like this, even if his brother was right upstairs. I liked the way this felt myself, so I could understand he was reluctant to end it.

But it’s also not like we had a choice.

“You’ll stay to dinner, won’t you?” Maureen asked. “I have a pot roast in the oven, with potatoes and vegetables. And I made fresh bread today.”

That sounded so very good.

“Mom, I wish we could—” Ethan’s phone rang, cutting him off mid-sentence. Anderson again? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in alarm.

Ethan rose and beckoned to me to do the same. He excused us and we headed to the front porch as he answered the call, putting it on speaker for my benefit.

“How far from the hotel are you?” Anderson asked. No hello, no preamble.

“Maybe an hour and a half or so,” Ethan said. “What’s up?”

“I think maybe you should stay away from Atlanta for right now. Maybe for a few days even.”

 to be continued

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Cia Nordwell


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