Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Rage and sadness merged in her gut, creating a sickening, emotional rollercoaster. She was certain people were probably looking at her as they parked or walked to their cars. But she shouldn’t care, just wanted to be lost in her own world. She sucked her teeth and winced at her mouth going dry. She typically liked to chew gum when she was at the casino, something to cure her anxiousness so she wouldn’t chew her fingers, or look less worthy to be there at the Blackjack table. She looked in the console of Archer’s car, hoping she’d find a pack of his favorite Big Red, or even a stick or two of the good stuff. No luck. In the glove compartment, she only saw a lanyard.
She pushed it out of the way, then noticed an old photo of her and Archer at the hospital, with him holding her son—a proud uncle.
Shit!
Why had he kept it? Perhaps because of his own issues with fatherhood. She’d joke with him about it, but he had in fact been told he may never have children after an altercation he’d had. He always claimed to not care, saying his lifestyle was too hectic and busy anyway, but she never bought that. Archer loved kids and was good with them. Tyler adored his Uncle James.
What am I doing? Her chest began to rise and fall like a flag caught in a hard breeze. Her body grew hot, and her eyes welled up with something wet and intrusive, betraying her. With a shaky hand, she grasped the lanyard tighter and studied the photo. The colors of the wall. Her expression and Archer’s. Her precious Tyler swaddled in blue and white blankets.
Paramore’s ‘Running Out of Time’ began to play, beating her to death with her own sins. She roared… cried out to God as she clutched the picture so tight, the photo folded in her harsh grasp.
“I want my son! I want my son! I NEED MY SON BACK!”
Use your love for your baby to bring you out of this darkness…
She didn’t know where the words came from, nor the strength, but it came right on time, saving her. Tossing the lanyard onto the passenger’s seat, she slung her purse off her shoulder and put it on the backseat, then kicked the car in reverse. IT’S TIME TO GO HOME! Someone was moving out at the same time and honked at her. She threw up her middle finger and hightailed it, racing to the parking lot exit with the car wheels squealing.
Honey tugged at her green cargo pants, readjusted her pale-yellow shirt, and stepped out of the Porsche. Archer had been playing ‘You Deserve It,’ by Mystica, on their way over there, and she was thrilled that he was taking to some of the songs she loved. To her right was a small building, with a sign above the door surrounded by weathered siding that read, ‘Tick Tock.’
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?” she asked, noticing the place would be closed soon, and hardly anything else was around.
“Yeah.” He fed the meter, took her hand, and led her inside the shop. As soon as the door opened, an old, moldy odor hit her. Oddly, she found comfort in it right away. It reminded her of a thrift store her grandmother used to go to all the time in Long Beach. She’d tag along, hopeful to get McDonald’s after Granny lugged a bunch of mess she didn’t need in a squeaky cart with a broken wheel to the tune of old songs from the 1960s playing on a crackly stereo system. Old corduroy jackets from the 1970s. Big plastic lime green sunglasses. Pleated polyester skirts. Dirty toys. Dolls with matted hair and marker spots all over their shiny beige limbs from years of love.
“Baby. Are you listening to me?”
“Huh?” She was yanked out of her deliberations by the sound of Archer’s laugh. He then gently took her by the elbow and led her around the cramped shop. An old man with ruddy, leathery skin and kind dark brown eyes smiled at her from behind a glass counter, cluttered with strange odds and ends.
“Hi. Welcome.” He waved at them.
“Hi there. Nice shop!”
The older man grinned from ear to ear.
When she looked closer at the counter, she could see there were camera parts inside the display case. Old relics. Excitement filled her and she could barely contain herself. More equipment sat on shelves along the walls: cinematographic cameras, old televisions, VHS and DVD players, radios and clocks.
She leaned into Archer’s ear and whispered, “Why are we here? I mean, I love it, but—”
“Because I wanted to get your opinion on something.”
She nodded in understanding as he moved down a narrow aisle, then came upon a dusty purple box. He paused, as if thinking of something important. After a moment, he opened the box, while the old man moved to the front door and turned the sign around to ‘Closed,’ and locked the door.