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.
Gone? As in she left the little shit? Or gone as in
she disappeared? The word gone could mean so many things.
Maureen appeared troubled as we followed her into
the house. She took a seat beside her brother on the sofa while her husband
settled into the armchair. Sarah had plopped onto the floor within reach of
Alex, who was still in his grandfather’s arms. I supposed we would follow suit
until Maureen patted the couch beside her.
“There’s room for you two here,” she said. “Make
yourselves at home.”
She was right, we fit on the large comfortable sofa
with little trouble. And I probably didn’t have to move as scoot to Ethan as I
did in order to save room, but let’s just say I wanted to and leave it at that.
“Did something happen to Heather?” Ethan asked his
mother, concern evident in his voice. He can’t help himself, he’s too nice for
his own good. “I mean, is she all right?”
“Like you care?” another voice intruded. My heart
sank when I glanced up to find Joe Jr. standing in the doorway. He seemed a
bit…disheveled. Wrinkled clothing, bloodshot eyes, five o’clock shadow. All in
all, not a pretty picture.
“Joe, please don’t talk to your brother like that!”
Maureen’s voice sounded weary.
Oh oh, trouble in Paradise?
Ethan’s brother took a couple of steps toward Ethan,
and I immediately sprang to the edge of the couch protectively. I didn’t trust
little Joe not to try to hurt Ethan. I’d hit him before and I’d do it again in
a heartbeat. I think he remembered our last little encounter because he took a
quick step backwards, out of my reach.
“It’s true. He doesn’t care about this family, never
has. Mr. Hotshot Federal Agent. Comes to visit when it’s convenient for him and
his… his…” He was studiously avoiding making eye contact with me, and it took
every ounce of will power not to spring up and flatten him right then and
there. But common sense—and the gentle touch of Ethan’s hand on my arm—kept me
in check.
“Never calls to see how I am. Thinks he’s better
than us when he’s just a sinner, he is. Living in sin, no better than his
sister and her sin baby….”
The outpouring of hatred and bigotry momentarily
floored me, but only for a second. And then everyone was yelling at once, and I
found myself on my feet, along with Ethan, Benny, and Sarah. Chaos and
confusion reigned, and it was only a matter of time until the first punch was
thrown.
“Stop!”
Joseph Senior’s voice rang out over everyone else’s
and we all fell silent. He was calming a perturbed Alex, undoubtedly upset by
the bedlam around him. When Sarah reached for her son, he gave him to her then
stood.
“There will be no more of that in this house,” he
said in a stern voice that brooked no opposition. Undoubtedly the same fire and
brimstone tone he used in the pulpit to keep his parishioners in line. “Joe, I
would like you to go to your room until you can behave in a civilized manner.
But first, I want you to apologize to your brother and sister.”
I didn’t think that would go over very well, and
Joe’s body language clearly showed that was indeed the case. He stiffened, almost
visibly digging in his heels. But then he cast a quick glance toward his father
and immediately cast his eyes toward the floor.
A long moment passed. “I… I apologize.” And didn’t
he sound just like a sulky teen-aged boy, rather than a fully grown adult of
twenty-seven.
Not waiting for a reply—I’m not sure anyone wanted
to make one—he spun on his heel and hightailed it out of the room. His noisy
footsteps clattered up the stairs then faded into silence.
Well, that happened.
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