1953 // n.h.

1.0

Theresa's POV

"Thank you," I smiled, reaching forward to grab today's newspaper from the man's outstretched hand.

"No problem, doll," the seller grinned in return as I placed my nickel down on the wooden counter. "Have a nice day."

I politely nodded before turning around, carrying my new newspaper, and strolling down the street to the cart of hats and scarves that my mother was browsing on the street corner.

"Got it," I spoke, moving to stand in front of her and holding the paper in the air.

"Ah, thank you, Theresa," my mother smiled, lightly caressing my cheek in gratitude.

I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name.

"Terri," I said, playfully poking my mother's shoulder.

"Theresa," my mother replied, poking me back.

I rolled my eyes again.

"So, Mother," I started, as soon as the two of us begin our walk down the sidewalk toward home, "you're still alright with the girls and I going out tonight, right?"

"If it's still fine with your father, it's still fine with me."

I smiled.

"Just as long as there's not another fight, you guys should have a wonderful night," she spoke, smiling slightly before reaching for the newspaper that was roughly folded in my hand.

There it is.

"So there's more talk of the gangs?" I asked, releasing the paper into her grip.

"There's always talk of the gangs, Theresa. Those filthy street rats have been around for decades. I can't wait until the day the police take them all away."

I shrugged.

The street gangs in the area were just another part of my life.

They had always been around and I eventually just learned just to stay clear of them and to carry on with my life.

If I didn't mess with them, they wouldn't mess with me.

Usually.

"Do you think they ever will?" I asked.

"Sure," my mother answered. "Those boys are only human. They can't run forever."

I nodded in understanding and we walked the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. My mother skimmed through the newspaper, softly humming to herself and accidentally bumping into nearly everyone on the sidewalk due to her lack of focus, while I just enjoyed the quiet.

Well, as quiet as the busy streets of Chicago could be.

"Oh, dear," my mother spoke, gently reaching up to rid her face of the thin layer of sweat that had pooled there.

"What?" I asked, slightly leaning over in attempt to get a better look at the paper.

"Those idiots burned down another building!"

"Where?"

"Looks like 12th street," she said, scanning the page again. "Writer says it was a business."

"Twelfth street? That's Italian territory, isn't it?"

"Yes, but something is telling me that they didn't burn down their own business, Theresa," my mother joked.

Terri.

"I know that, Mother. I was just saying," I said, rolling my eyes.

"The Irish have really been hitting on them recently, haven't they?"