Sycamore Today by Ramon Collins

Police cars weren’t seen on Sycamore Street often. Lawn mowers hesitated and living room curtains parted.


An officer got out and followed the girl up the sidewalk. The woman on the porch wiped hands on her apron, touched the girl’s shoulder as she brushed by. After a brief conversation with the officer the woman shut the door and walked to the girl.


“Two days with no word — two days!”


Suzie clenched her fists. “Don’t start on me. Okay?”


Myrna folded her arms. “I suppose you were shacked up in some scumbag motel.”


“No-o-o– it happened to be a very cool summer cabin.”


“Were you drinking?”


“Some rum and Coke.”


“How ‘bout activity?”


Suzie turned her head. “Activity?”


“S-E-X, ever hear of it?”


“I’ll be eighteen next week, mother. You were married at eighteen.”


“That’s the magic word, married.”


“What’s so magic? Dad left four years ago.”


“And if you’re pregnant?”


“Don’t worry about it. I’m not pregnant.”


“Did Dr. Robbie graduate in gynecology at eighteen?”


“Mom — I was with Lydia. Ever hear of it?”
Ramon Collins

Ramon Collins

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