Our Little $ecret

ion. Life was unfair and it was harder being a woman. Whoever said women had charms, lied. I was being paid peanuts, but I didn’t have a choice.

ing the goods to a local bakery. Every day, before the crack of dawn, she would be in the kitche

n the rest of our family. It was serviced regularly, its knobs cleaned meticulously, and its temperature calibrated to perfection. But I had to assist my mother pay the bills her power didn’t permit her to and it was tiring. The rich had it

ent of rare happiness. Every morning, I would glance at the faded family photo on the inside of my locker and be thankful. My mother wore a brave smile, even though her eyes revealed the exhaustion and pain she hid from the world. A father figure was noticeably absent in

p and Wash, a famous car wash, as the only female wash guide. I took off my blouse and was about to pull down my trouser when suddenly, I heard distant masculine voices, and hurried into a cramped room I had discovered behind some old lockers in the ba

ned by the silence of other female employees who tolerated Mr. String’s misconduct. I truly wondered what would be taken away from Mr. String if he complied but the whole situation was making me feel like I was

o my duty post. “You are five minutes late. Three cars are already lined up,

hrough the knot of anxiety in my ch

I intentionally wasted time arriving at work late. I w

e drunk water. A hiccup is not a

for the bakery to provide for us, and my two younger brothers who were being homeschooled by her, gnawed at me every day. I had sacrificed college to help shoulder the burden of our family’s finances. How had our lives come to this? I thought bitter

hat

reatened and walked off. I let out a frustrated sigh and watched as he stomped away

my upper lip. I heard distant honks and look

rophone emitted a sharp ringing and I quickly adjusted it. “Sorry for the delay. Please listen to these instructions very carefully. First, you wait your turn. One car at a time. Some arrows indicate where to stop your vehicle. If

eeth. I turned off the speaker, shifted one pad

my job

eathed in and out and turned the speaker back on and continued guiding. My mind remained preoccupied as I tried to focus on my job, giving instructions to the impatient drivers. But

with frustration. The honking grew, inciting my own outburst. My anger was boiling

de, with my feelings of helplessness and frustration still gnawing at me. The

d been once before. String had fired me previously, only to rehire me after I begged my mother to join me in pleading

owly, I pushed the door open and peered into the office, but

ly and began my