inner
glow of contentment shining from every pore.
She’s like a spiky durian fruit: her thorny exterior hiding all the sweetness within.
Sweetness no other man but me has taken the time to notice. If they had, they wouldn’t
have given up after one round with the bossy hellion.
Carla has ignored my casual advances for months, and rather than put me off, her behavior
has intrigued me further. No woman has mentally challenged me as much.
As I sit here next to my dying mother, one of her favorite sayings comes to me, “Anything
worth having in life requires hard work.” Our parents encouraged us to follow our
dreams, to never be afraid of failure, and to never give up on what we wanted most.
The doctor came in a little while ago and assured us she is holding steady, out of
the worst part of this recent decline. We can leave and not worry she’ll pass in our
absence. But they did advise us to stay in town to be easily reached when her condition
changed.
I lean forward and kiss my mom’s forehead. The waiting is awful, but I know she’ll
soon find peace in my father’s arms.
The car ride home is quiet, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. Soon we’re minutes
from my building and I realize I don’t want today with my sister to end. “Want to
go to an early dinner? I’d like to hear about your work.”
Andrea shrugs, the gesture somehow elegant on her. “Work is work, up and down at best.
Got an article coming up about the rise in education for women through online courses.”
Andrea started out of college as a journalist and now writes independent pieces for
various online news reporting agencies.
“Good for you. Steady work is all that matters.”
Her mouth contorts into a grimace. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to contribute more
for Mom’s care.”
I glance out the window, hoping we can find a place to park. “We’re getting by fine.
Don’t worry so much.”
“You say that… but only you are sacrificing your dreams. It just kills me.”
“If music paid the bills I’d be happier, sure, but I’ll get back to it eventually.
This accounting gig isn’t permanent.” I motion out the window. “There’s a spot, grab
it.”
My sister maneuvers her old Honda into the tight parking space. “It certainly seems
like it after two years. I don’t know what we would have done if we had to pay the
medical bills on what I make as a writer.” She looks at me and smiles, “Probably have
to start consolidating expenses, like moving in together.”
A shudder runs through me at the thought of living with my perpetually messy twin.
“Hey, now, let’s not get hasty.”
She laughs as we exit the car. “Wouldn’t want me to cramp your musician lifestyle?”
I think of Rocko standing at his doorway last month, a mid-twenties bar groupie hanging
on his tattooed arm while he tried to give the woman the polite shove off the morning
after a gig. Do I miss the one-night stands? I shake my head while joining my sister
on the sidewalk. I outgrew those empty encounters years ago.
“Not at all. More worried your slovenly habits would push me to kill you in your sleep.”
She shoves me hard, laughing the whole time. “Let’s go inside,” I say, motioning to
the closest restaurant. “I’m hungry.”
Chapter Nine
Carla
Andy wasn’t at work today. I tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what
I should do and how I should approach him, only to find the effort was all in vain.
I’m curious why he’s out of the office, but still uncertain on how to act. If I text
him, he’ll think I care and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to open that can of worms
again.
But you are starting to care, you idjit. The passion he stirred in you last night
was explosive.
I squirm in my chair, unable to deny how exciting our escapade in the storage room
was. Where did he learn to do that? Does he spank women all
glow of contentment shining from every pore.
She’s like a spiky durian fruit: her thorny exterior hiding all the sweetness within.
Sweetness no other man but me has taken the time to notice. If they had, they wouldn’t
have given up after one round with the bossy hellion.
Carla has ignored my casual advances for months, and rather than put me off, her behavior
has intrigued me further. No woman has mentally challenged me as much.
As I sit here next to my dying mother, one of her favorite sayings comes to me, “Anything
worth having in life requires hard work.” Our parents encouraged us to follow our
dreams, to never be afraid of failure, and to never give up on what we wanted most.
The doctor came in a little while ago and assured us she is holding steady, out of
the worst part of this recent decline. We can leave and not worry she’ll pass in our
absence. But they did advise us to stay in town to be easily reached when her condition
changed.
I lean forward and kiss my mom’s forehead. The waiting is awful, but I know she’ll
soon find peace in my father’s arms.
The car ride home is quiet, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. Soon we’re minutes
from my building and I realize I don’t want today with my sister to end. “Want to
go to an early dinner? I’d like to hear about your work.”
Andrea shrugs, the gesture somehow elegant on her. “Work is work, up and down at best.
Got an article coming up about the rise in education for women through online courses.”
Andrea started out of college as a journalist and now writes independent pieces for
various online news reporting agencies.
“Good for you. Steady work is all that matters.”
Her mouth contorts into a grimace. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to contribute more
for Mom’s care.”
I glance out the window, hoping we can find a place to park. “We’re getting by fine.
Don’t worry so much.”
“You say that… but only you are sacrificing your dreams. It just kills me.”
“If music paid the bills I’d be happier, sure, but I’ll get back to it eventually.
This accounting gig isn’t permanent.” I motion out the window. “There’s a spot, grab
it.”
My sister maneuvers her old Honda into the tight parking space. “It certainly seems
like it after two years. I don’t know what we would have done if we had to pay the
medical bills on what I make as a writer.” She looks at me and smiles, “Probably have
to start consolidating expenses, like moving in together.”
A shudder runs through me at the thought of living with my perpetually messy twin.
“Hey, now, let’s not get hasty.”
She laughs as we exit the car. “Wouldn’t want me to cramp your musician lifestyle?”
I think of Rocko standing at his doorway last month, a mid-twenties bar groupie hanging
on his tattooed arm while he tried to give the woman the polite shove off the morning
after a gig. Do I miss the one-night stands? I shake my head while joining my sister
on the sidewalk. I outgrew those empty encounters years ago.
“Not at all. More worried your slovenly habits would push me to kill you in your sleep.”
She shoves me hard, laughing the whole time. “Let’s go inside,” I say, motioning to
the closest restaurant. “I’m hungry.”
Chapter Nine
Carla
Andy wasn’t at work today. I tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what
I should do and how I should approach him, only to find the effort was all in vain.
I’m curious why he’s out of the office, but still uncertain on how to act. If I text
him, he’ll think I care and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to open that can of worms
again.
But you are starting to care, you idjit. The passion he stirred in you last night
was explosive.
I squirm in my chair, unable to deny how exciting our escapade in the storage room
was. Where did he learn to do that? Does he spank women all
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