The Talkers

Flash Fiction

The Talkers

“Can I bring my bike?”

“No” Mom said, “You’ll be too busy seeing everything at Zippoland!”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve never been there, you should ask your father.”

“When did he go?”

“He worked there one summer, when he lived in Florida. I didn’t even know your father then.”

“I thought you were the same age…”

“We are, but we didn’t meet until his family moved to Massachusetts.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Are we going to take a train to Florida?””

“No, an airplane. Like when we went to Grammie Shaw’s.”

“I don’t remember…”

“Well, you were just a little monkey then.”

“Does she live where Zippoland is?”

No, Honey, she lives in California.”

“How come? Why don’t we live close to all the Grammies?”

“You only have two… and they can live wherever they want. Your father’s parents live here in Massachusetts, but Grammie Shaw is my mother and she lives in California with Aunt Betsy.”

“And who’s grandmother is Aunt Betsy?”

“Nobody’s, she’s my sister. She doesn’t have any kids.”

“Maybe we can get her one for Christmas!

“No, I think she wants to get them herself, like I did with you.”

“Was I at a store?”

“No, you were a surprise, from Daddy!”

“I like Daddy. Maybe Daddy can surprise Aunt Betsy!”

“No, I think Daddy would rather surprise you and me. How would you like a brother or a sister?”

“Daddy can do that?”

“Yes, he can.”

“When I grow up, I want to be able to do that too!”

“We can talk about that, but only after you’re fourteen.”

“Why?

“It’s the law.”

“Oh. Ok! I’ll go get my suitcase.”

“That was intense…” came a voice from the hall. “That boy can really talk!”

“He gets it from his father…”

“And his mother…” Dad laughed.