Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Because it was fake. I mean…” He laughs here, smiling. “The real world is surely lacking its share of authenticity. It’s a pretty sick place overall. But when I was a kid, Disciple always felt like a lie.”
“And now?”
He shrugs. “Well, now I know better. It’s not real, but it’s not a lie, exactly. It’s just… a show. It’s theatre.”
“Which is fake.”
“Yeah, it’s still fake, I guess.”
“My whole life is fake, Amon.”
“What? Nah. Your life is pretty cool, Rosie. You’ve got your printing business—”
“Which I wear a costume for.”
“Well…” He’s kinda stuck for words.
“And the diner? I wear a costume for that too.”
“You don’t wear a costume at McBooms.”
“No?” I laugh. “Maybe you just don’t know it’s a costume. Maybe I didn’t even know it’s a costume. I feel like I’ve been jumping from one role to the next without ever taking a breath. I went from being a kid, to pretending I was an adult, to being a mother, and all that turned into this.” I point to myself.
Amon is starting to get confused and Cross is standing on the steps of the church waitin’ on him, so I figure I might as well just get to the point.
“I feel fake and I think it’s holding me back.”
His eyebrow cocks up again. “Pretty dresses are holding you back?”
“It’s not the dresses, Amon. It’s the pretending. I grew up in a show, and I stayed in the show, and I can’t even imagine a life outside the show. And so…” I let out a breath. “I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. I like the fake stuff. I do. But I don’t want my boy to grow up all fake and get the urge to leave me and this fake place behind. And go join the marines and get himself killed, or worse. I’m suddenly very afraid that I’ve done it all wrong.”
Amon comes over and pulls me into a hug. “If you did your best, Rosie, then you didn’t do anything wrong.” When we pull apart, he says, “Welcome home. I thought you’d never get here.”
EPILOGUE – AMON
It’s been a few weeks now since Cross had his little adventure in the secret underground city beneath Trinity County and I’ve spent most of that time thinking about Rosie and her doubts.
I guess everyone gets to this point in their life where self-assurance suddenly morphs into uncertainty. Some, like me, get to this place young. And these people do rash things like join the marines the day they turn eighteen, and learn to do things they really shouldn’t know how to do, and then a bunch of friends die, and you end up gulping fruit drinks delivered by military courier every Monday while pondering all your bad life choices.
So I get it.
I don’t mean this casually, either. I totally get it. I get her, actually. I’ve got a solution for her problem, but before I do that, I gotta take care of a different kind of problem.
It’s three twenty-three a.m. when I walk into Cross’s room and shake him awake. “Cross. Get up. We got things to do.”
He rubs his eyes, looking at me. “What?”
“You’ve got two minutes to meet me on the porch.”
I leave his room and go outside on the porch to wait.
The day after I brought Cross up out of that tunnel, I gave him a job. It has been my experience that a job is a necessary part of life. So I told Cross that his job was to train Collin’s dog, Mercy, during the day because Collin and I don’t see eye to eye on the whole job thing when it comes to canines. He thinks she should be allowed to sleep on the porch all day like a good-for-nothing layabout. But I’m the dog expert here, and I don’t agree.
So every day Cross gets up, goes next door to Collin’s house, snaps a lead on Mercy, and takes her to the a.m. training session with all the other men.
Even if Cross wasn’t smitten by the dog, he would be smitten by training with the men. He’s living his dream.
This morning, though, he’s gettin’ a new dream.
The screen door bangs open and I catch it as Cross comes out of the house so it doesn’t bang closed and wake up Rosie.
Cross is mad. “What the hell?” He has taken to swearin’ when his mama’s not around and I don’t correct him because the last thing he needs from me is a reminder that he’s still a boy. “It’s the middle of the night, Amon.” His eyes are all half-closed with anger. “What are we doing?”
“You’ve been fired.” I jump down the porch steps and shove my hands into my pockets as I stride across the grass towards the kennel.
He jumps down the steps too, then runs to catch up with me. “What? What do you mean? Fired from what? Don’t say Mercy.”