Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“It smells fusty,” Billy says on a wrinkled nose, taking the military jacket away from his face and dumping it on the counter. “I can’t believe people buy this stuff.”
I smile and kick a few black sacks out of my way, heading for my new pay desk. “They’ll be washed,” I assure him, putting myself in front of my new cash register. Well, new to me. It may have been new to someone else sixty years ago. “Isn’t it cool?” I say, pressing down on a few buttons, delighting in the old clicking sounds.
“Very cool.” Billy moves in behind me and crowds my back. “Since I’ve slaved away all day in your very cool new shop, do you think I might be rewarded?”
“Maybe.” I smirk to myself as I press the button that releases the money drawer on a ding.
“Ding indeed.” He lifts me from my feet and walks us across the shop floor. “These changing rooms look comfortable.”
“Your incorrigible.” I laugh, taking in the space, so happy with my theme of animal print and industrial woods and metal. It’s cozy but chic, cool but classic. He sits me on the cowhide stool in the corner and looks around at the mirrors on all three walls. He grins, gazing down at me. Then he reaches back and grabs the cowhide curtain, yanking it across, closing us in.
“Get those dungarees off.”
“Lady,” someone shouts, yanking me back from my memories. My head whips around to find out who’s yelling and to who. “Lady, get out of the road.” A man on the curb waves his arms frantically at me, and it’s then I realize that he’s bellowing at me. I frown, noticing I’ve absentmindedly wandered into the road. And then I hear the sound of screeching tires. I swing around and come face to face with a set of headlights racing toward me, and my entire body locks up, my exhausted mind shutting down, failing to deliver the command to move to my legs. “Lady, move!” The distant shout is drowned out by the increasing noise of the tires coming closer and closer to me.
Move! Get out of the way! Damn it, Lo, snap out of it!
A blaring car horn is added to the screeching tires, yet it doesn’t prompt me to dive from the car’s path, leaving me a sitting duck in the middle of the road. Crazily, as it tears toward me, I start to think so very clearly.
Maybe this is the best way.
Maybe my time is up before Billy’s.
Maybe this is supposed to happen and we’ll meet up very soon in God’s green garden, happy and healthy and ready to have our happily ever after.
I won’t want to be here when Billy’s gone. I won’t survive on my own, won’t know how to live again. I’ve pretty much been dead for the past two years anyway. A shell of a woman, staggering aimlessly through this shitty life, my identity lost. I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to wake up every morning and dread the day ahead. I don’t want to look at my dying husband and know that I can’t make him better or ease his pain. I’m tired. I have nothing left to live for. Nothing left to give. No fight.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in my last breath and wait, trying to cast my mind back to find our happy times again. How we met in that cocktail bar. How quickly we fell in love. Our trip of a lifetime to Australia. Our beautiful wedding day. I smile to myself, seeing a vivid image of my husband, strong and healthy. My memories narrow into a tunnel and the noise around me distorts into a calming buzz of nothing. A sense of peace washes over me, something I haven’t felt for such a long time, and the weight of my world slowly lifts from my shoulders. I feel light. Free.
Only death would ease me this much.
“Jesus Christ!” I’m jerked from my trance by the alarmed voice, a pair of hands grabbing me. I look down and find the headlights of the shiny BMW mere inches from my kneecaps. “Are you okay? Fucking hell, I thought I was going to hit you.”
Looking up blankly, I come face to face with wide, panicked eyes. They hold mine while his hands hold me in place, ensuring I won’t crumple to the ground. So worried. “I’m sorry,” I mumble mindlessly, moving back, out of his hold. “I . . . I wasn’t paying attention.” A soft whimper at my feet pulls my stare away from the stranger’s eyes, down to the road where Boris is looking up at me, appearing shocked himself. I’m brought back down to earth with an almighty bang. Oh my goodness, what was I thinking? Suddenly embarrassed and ashamed of myself, despite no one possibly knowing my bleak thoughts or intentions, I turn and hurry away, more damn tears welling in my eyes. How could I? How could I think to do such a thing?