Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
☆═━┈ ┈━═☆
Pretty Girl chapter two
number on a napkin
☆═━┈ ┈━═☆
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Thank you for keeping an eye on Tommy, I know you're busy with your job and all," Bronte's mother smiled at her while unpacking groceries from the fabric bags, setting them out on the counter in groups of where they needed to go. Pantry, cupboards, fridge. Bronte winced, nodding, unsure how to tell her mother the news. The older woman seemed in such a good mood that day, Bronte hated to have to ruin it for her.
Her parents had been so proud of her when she told them about her secretary position just two months before. Good pay, health benefits, paid leave, everything she could want. Her boss was kind enough to her and her coworkers were agreeable, however, with the resurgence of covid cases around where they lived, the office couldn't afford to keep on extra workers, and she was getting laid off, finishing her last day of work at that office at the very end of the week. The impending lack of income had her losing stress weight, and no one was hiring that would take her on as an employee due to her health.
It had, also, unfortunately, brought back up a previous issue with alcohol. She knew she was relying on it far too much, but her parents didn't need to know she was falling back down that hole. She couldn't fall back into addiction, not when she was so close to freedom from health issues. But as it always was, the sin was sweet and the miracles bitter.
"It's all good, Tommys not too bad to deal with. Can't you leave him home on his own now though? The kids sixteen after all. You left Julia and me at home when we were kids." Her mother shook her head. Bronte knew she was never the favorite child, her and her mother had more of a friends relationship then one of a mother and daughter. It was odd, and resulted in Bronte never really having that mother figure. It helped sometimes, though. It was easy to talk to a friend then to a parent. Sometimes.
"I want him to keep an eye on the house if he's home alone, but all he does is play games with his friends and stream, someone could break in and he wouldn't even know," Bronte chuckled but stopped when she realised how serious the older woman was being. Bronte coughed, regaining her more stern composure. Her mother was right, of course, Tommy was never the most observant of children to be left all by himself.
