All Her Little Secrets

by Wanda M. Morris

I remember Vera used to say not every husband is truthful with his wife, but every wife knows the truth about her husband. You just know, she would say.

His question was another example of the “polite racism” of the New South, much like the way Black people in Atlanta coexisted around Confederate soldier statues and venues containing the words plantation and Dixie. The expectation was that such things were harmless symbols of white heritage. They weren’t. They were relics of slavery and a secessionist society that stirred hurtful messages of racism. And now, a board member wanted to know where my family’s slave owners were from.

We walked out the store and stood on the sidewalk silent for a beat. Racism is exhausting and embarrassing, even in front of your best friend, who’s also Black. It’s as if there’s a stealth undercurrent of unwarranted assumptions, petty slights, and dismissals always ready to pop up and reinforce the idea that people of color aren’t good enough, they aren’t welcome. The reality was that I earned enough money in one day to pay a week of her wages. But still, she felt entitled enough to conclude that I couldn’t afford to buy a dress she was paid by the hour to sell.

Some people need to remember you long after you’ve left a room. Especially the people who didn’t think you deserved to be there in the first place.

Nate broke his trance from the window.

Why does he keep spacing out like that? Hmm...

I really hate it when people piss on me and try to convince me it’s raining.

I knew exactly who the man in the photos was and I’d need the rest of the day to figure out why my brother was roaming the halls of Houghton with my security badge the day before Michael was murdered.

You sure you didnt give it to him?

If people didn’t see race, they wouldn’t have to go around saying they don’t see race.

If the police are investigating a murder, maybe they’re looking at the wrong Littlejohn, huh?”

Huh?!

When he turned back to the car, the hot flash of a .45-caliber pistol powered a single blast right between his eyes.

Damn

Was Jonathan the man in the Escalade who hit me?

The same escalade from last chapter that shot Sam. Is it jonathan or someone posing as him? edit : i finished the book and I was right! Hardy was posing as Jonathan smh

I had to believe that I was more than my worst mistake. Every one of my secrets had been a painful lesson that I should have been learning from instead of running from. Until I stood up and owned them, they would continue to hold me in this impossible grip of fear.

I lifted the paper. The tightly written paragraph lauding the opportunity to work and grow with such a dynamic company. My neatly curled signature. Just an hour ago, this piece of paper represented my escape from this whole hellish nightmare. I placed it back into the folder. And for the first time since I’d left Chillicothe, I felt like a shackled animal without the ability to run.

Really Ellice?! You fina piss me off

Is Hardy the Willie Jay’s son that you and Vera killed? Maybe this is vengeance

gun club fanatics

Yeah the Brethern.

Soooo this isn’t a vengeance thing… why is he so obsessed with Nate’s legacy?

Oh shit! Nothing to show that she had anything to do with it

Even after my rise, I was still explaining why I needed to be in the room, with a seat at the table, and a voice in the decisions.