Occasionally she took a ride in her mother’s car; without permission, which made a good thing (driving) even better. She wished she could have been honest with Harriet, her loving mother, but she knew her place as the eldest most responsible daughter, and coming clean would have meant giving up a modicum of respect and honor, which she was not willing to do. So she drove the Bentley when she felt like it, but only when her grieving mother was safely tucked away in her room, sipping her syrupy sweet sherry and reminiscing, and only while wearing her best dress and sleek black driving gloves–a gift from her father.
If Daddy were still alive, he would have encouraged Erin to drive as much as possible because he was a practical, no-nonsense man; a father beyond comparison who loved her more than life itself, and who had still remembered what it was like to be a passionate person living a sheltered life. But he wasn’t here, so she had to handle her urges on her own, even though it was illegal for a 14-year old to drive, and even though she knew that it was only a matter of time before her mother found out about her trips to the fiery edge of town where she could fan the flame of her desires without worrying about her responsibilities for a change.
This week’s challenge, provided by the ever-wonderful Lillie McFerrin was the word “flame.” See more entries by clicking on the icon below:
