Adults and Their Secrets
Flash fiction
Most summer nights, Jackson Loomis is sent to bed by the third inning. He doesn’t like the fact that he misses out on over two-thirds of the game, but hey, at least he isn’t working on fractions in math class with old Mrs. Klopp. Things could be worse.
Tonight, his father notices he’s still on the couch midway through the third. “Night, Jackie,” he says before wrapping him in a powerful hug that smells like beer.
Depending on the number of silver cans on the end table, Jackson rolls the dice and leaves his bedroom door cracked open so he can hear the commentators garble on. Tonight, there are five cans—a safe bet. He walks up the stairs, brushes his teeth, and leaves his door open a smidge.
Jackson listens to Michael Kay and Paul O’Neill lament about the New York Yankees’ skid. They can’t seem to find ways to win a game. If the Yanks pitch well, they can’t hit. If they put up runs, the other team puts up more.
The fifth inning begins, and a pair of headlights pulls into the driveway. Jackson’s mom is home from work. She used to come into his bedroom, plant a soft kiss atop his head, and close the door behind her on the way out. But she doesn’t do that anymore. Jackson senses something is off—something has changed. It’s like in a baseball game when the momentum shifts. You can feel it.
The front door opens. Cans instantly clatter. Hushed voices evolve into shouts as volleys of anger and insults are hurled back and forth.
Jackson shuts his bedroom door quietly. He climbs back into bed, draws in a deep breath, and stares at the ceiling.
Something Jackson’s mother used to tell him surfaces: “There are no secrets in this house.”
But he now knows this isn’t true—not in the slightest. Secrets have found their way in through the cracked foundation. They’re climbing up the walls, spilling into open spaces.
Jackson tries to keep the dark thoughts at bay. He sees fractions on the blackboard—Mrs. Klopp is old-school—and he hears her rattle on about numerators and common denominators. He thinks about Monica West slipping him that note from a ripped-out piece of paper. It said I think I’m in love with you and it makes him smile.
The ceiling fan rotates around and around…
Jackson stirs in the pitch-black night. Red and blue lights creep into his vision. He rubs sleep from his eyes and staggers to the window.
A never-ending procession of vehicles crawls down the highway, taking up both lanes. Police cars guide the way, and armored military vehicles surround an even stranger sight: Mac trucks hauling massive metal cylinders and boxes. Some of the cylinders appear to be smoking or emitting a strange fog.
The fleet is endless. Dozens of army men with guns come into view. They surround the biggest truck in the fleet, which is carrying a dome-shaped object.
Stomach in knots, heart thrumming, Jackson tries to visualize Monica West’s pretty smile, but he can’t seem to find it in the dark.
Do all adults keep secrets? He wonders. Do they let them out in the middle of the night when no one’s watching? Maybe Mrs. Klopp doesn’t even like kids. For some reason, the final thought disturbs him more than the others.
Jackson knows without checking the score that the Yankees have already lost another one. Hell, they’ve all lost.
At some point, the bedroom door creaks open, and his parents come in. They both place a hand on his shoulder. No one says a word.
Together, they watch the vehicles roll by as dawn inches closer.
Thank you for reading “Adults and Their Secrets” today. I appreciate it! If you enjoyed my story, please click the heart icon and consider sharing it with a fellow fiction reader.
The summer season is always exciting for me because it means a few extra pockets of time open up. My goal is to continue writing and sharing new fiction.
If you’re interested in reading and writing some fifty-word stories, please be sure to check back in this Friday at 3:00 PM EST for Fifties by the Fire. I will be sharing these posts regularly again, but I will be sending them out without a preview. I want to keep my fiction posts separate—and shorter, when possible!
Have a great week. I hope to see you Friday!
-Justin
I like the way this evolved from an intra-family conflict into an external existential threat. It seems that even a dysfunctional family such as this one, can be drawn together in crisis. Very compelling story, Justin.
(And yes, I remember Michael Kaye. Also John Sterling and Susan Waldman on the radio. Go Yanks.)
There is that moment in every child's life when they come to realize that their parents aren't gods. aren't always right, and can't always protect them.