By Deborah Jones
Sunday afternoons meant potluck in the backyard of Aunt Robbie’s Hollywood bungalow pocketed among the lemon trees.
Aunt Robbie: violet eyes, black hair, a little wild. Who wasn’t in the ’60s? Married twice, maybe divorced, no one certain. No children. Why? A mistake, said our parents. My sisters and I were her life.
Dressmaker to celebrities, a magician, they said. Imperfections discreetly hidden.
On the Sunday I turned sixteen, while texting my outlaw boyfriend, Aunt Robbie gave me a handsewn yellow sundress. In the pocket, a smaller one with a secret inside. A foil packet: a Trojan. I blushed. She winked.
I can vividly picture this whole scenario. Love this!
Thank you so much
Paints such a vivid and loving picture! And the surprise ending! So slyly set up! If only we all had an Aunt Robbie!
Thanks for reading. It’s a fictional version of my aunt.
A wonderful story of a loving Aunt who was fun. Loved it
Thank you for commenting. I appreciate it
Love it! Tightly descriptive with a banging ending!
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment.
I enjoyed this but I dont know what you mean by a Trojan. I associate it with a spam/risk on the internet. I’m from UK if that makes a difference.