Chapter 3<\/p>\n
My parents were in the kitchen, Mom standing over the stove lifting the last batch of peaches from the canner and Dad sitting at the table reading aloud from the daily newspaper. It was Saturday morning, two days after my sleepover. Dad stopped reading mid-sentence when I walked in and sat down beside him. Placing the newspaper on the table, he glanced over at me, his face instantly registering the familiar look of disapproval. \u201cWhat\u2019s that junk on your fingernails?\u201d He asked quietly. He never yelled. He didn\u2019t have to.<\/p>\n
I looked down at my freshly painted pink nails then curled my fingers underneath my palms saying nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet it off before you go anywhere and don\u2019t let me see it again.\u201d Then turning toward Mother, he scowled silently blaming her for my impropriety.<\/p>\n
I sat quietly eating the Cheerios Mom had poured for me trying to catch a glimpse of the front page. Dad caught on, picked up the newspaper and departed for his bedroom. It was just like them – fretting\u00a0about all of the bad things that might happen to me, yet\u00a0never letting me hear or read about the awful events actually happening right in our own town.<\/p>\n
Later that morning while I was in the bathroom restoring my fingernails to their pure God-given status, I heard the faint sound of the ringing telephone.<\/p>\n
\u201cTess, Cathy\u2019s on the phone for you.\u201d Mom called up the steps.<\/p>\n
I walked into my parent\u2019s bedroom. Dad had gone out to check on his garden by then, and I lifted the receiver. \u201cI\u2019ve got it Mom. Thanks.\u201d I yelled down the stairs, not wanting Cathy to start talking until I heard the click of the other receiver. No click. \u201cMom, I\u2019ve got it.\u201d I said again.<\/p>\n
Cathy waited understanding my cue.<\/p>\n
Finally the phone clicked. At least I thought it did, but one cannot be too careful. \u201cHey Cathy, I\u2019m in the middle of something can I call you back in five minutes?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n
My strategy: never talk on the telephone when a parent has the potential to quietly listen in.<\/em><\/p>\n I tinkered for a minute back in the bathroom, cleaning up the nail polish remover and cotton balls; then I proceeded down to the dining room and dialed Cathy\u2019s number.<\/p>\n \u201cHello.\u201d Cathy answered.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s me.\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you hear?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d I knew what she was referring to. It was certainly all we both thought about for the\u00a0past two days.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s all over the local news.\u201d Cathy whispered excitedly. \u201cWe missed a murder by about half an hour. Freaky, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat else do you know about it?\u201d I asked, whispering as well.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a double murder. Sickening actually.\u201d She began recounting what she\u2019d seen on the local television news. Obviously her<\/em> parents didn\u2019t censor. \u201cThis druggie killed two guys in the neighborhood. One of them was the son of that lady who owns the small grocery store where we saw the police cars. \u00a0You know that cute football player, Freddie Fullmer.\u201d She paused catching her breath.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen did they catch him?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cRight away I guess. They found him crouched behind some garbage cans only a block away.\u201d<\/p>\n Just then Mom walked into the room so I switched topics, \u201cI don\u2019t know if I can go to the pool today. Let me ask.\u201d I said in a normal tone looking questioningly over toward my Mom, knowing she was eavesdropping. Mom nodded her permission.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I can go. I\u2019ll see you at 1 o\u2019clock. OK?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Chapter 3 My parents were in the kitchen, Mom standing over the stove lifting the last batch of peaches from the canner and Dad sitting at the table reading aloud from the daily newspaper. It was Saturday morning, two days after my sleepover. Dad stopped reading mid-sentence when I walked in and sat down beside … Continue reading Cause and Effect, A Fictional Short, Part 3<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":461,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[89,3,2],"tags":[96,92,95,98,97],"class_list":["post-460","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-short-stories","category-writing","tag-1970s","tag-cause-and-effect","tag-death-penalty","tag-decisions","tag-justice"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.trishmcgee.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/dominos.jpg?fit=5800%2C4600&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/460","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=460"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/460\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":464,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/460\/revisions\/464"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/461"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=460"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=460"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=460"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}