Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Thus, my dilemma.”
“He likes you,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay.”
“Don’t put too much stock into that, kid. A lot of the time with things like this, it isn’t okay.”
“I won’t,” she promised, bent, kissed my forehead, and also scooted off the bed. “’Night, Mom,” she called from the door.
“Sleep tight, baby,” I called back.
“I will. You too.”
And the door closed.
Shit.
Damn.
And hell.
I got up on an elbow, pulled my bag to me and yanked my phone out of it.
I then opened my text string with Tom.
And I came back to me.
Direct.
Honest.
No game playing.
I fucked up tonight. Can we get together and talk? I texted Tom.
It was late, nearly midnight. I expected his phone to be on a charge somewhere in his big house, and he was sleeping.
As usual with Tom and his mobile, I was wrong.
It was not.
And he was not.
I was barely at the edge of the bed pulling off my booties before my phone chimed with a text.
Yes, you fucked up. No, we don’t need to talk.
I stared at the phone, waiting for those three dots to come up to tell me he was going to say more.
They didn’t come up.
So mine came up for him.
I’m not a game player.
I sent that and was typing more when I got, Really?
I deleted what I’d been typing and shot back, That would be the fucking up part.
We aren’t that. It doesn’t matter, he returned.
Oh, God.
I’d really like to talk.
Okay. We’ll meet. But I’m going up to Prescott tomorrow. I won’t be back until Wednesday.
Dinner Wednesday night?
We’ll see.
Shit.
Damn.
And hell.
Are you pissed at me?
I waited.
But not for long.
We’re not that, Mika. As I said, it doesn’t matter.
That wasn’t what I asked.
I waited a long time after that.
And then I got, You can flirt with and fuck whoever you want. It has shit to do with me. As I’ve said, WE ARE NOT THAT.
It was the “and fuck whoever” and the capitalization that got me.
Not to mention him lying, because he was pissed, he just wouldn’t admit it.
Oh, and I shouldn’t leave out him being all about how he was glad to have me back in his life, then turning around and acting like I didn’t matter to him.
He was pissed.
But now, I was angry.
Message received, I sent.
I then turned on do not disturb, walked my phone down to the charge in the goddamn kitchen, walked back up, got ready, crawled into bed…
And did not sleep one wink.
* * *
It was Wednesday.
I was standing at my workbench, staring at the pieces I put together.
I wanted to rip them all up and scream.
Nora walked in.
I stifled the urge to gather everything together and hide it away.
Precisely what I’d been doing whenever my daughter got anywhere near my studio.
Instead, I stayed still, hands on my hips, looking down at all of me bleeding across a workbench, raw and exposed.
“Lord, God,” Nora whispered.
See?
Bleeding.
“What is this, darling?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I bit off.
“Mika.”
I stared at the bench.
“Mika.”
I didn’t move or speak.
“Michelle.”
I turned my head to her.
“Can I hold you?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head stiffly. “I’ll lose it.”
“Is this…is it…” She flung a hand to indicate the bench. “Is this for public consumption?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Is it for Cadence?”
“Definitely.”
A pause then, so soft, they were almost not words. “Are you letting him go?”
“No. I’m giving him to our daughter.”
She looked down at the bench.
And then she read, “Two. That’s what it took. To take you from me. And her. Cleaving you in two. Nothing else would have done it. I had to leak out. Across the asphalt. She had to spread. Along the earth. You had to fade. Into nothing. It was the only way. We would lose you. And we lost you. When you became two.”
My vision turned watery.
Another poem sprang instantly to mind.
That’s how it happened. It poured out of me when I opened the tap to losing Rollo.
“Call him,” she urged. “It’s Wednesday. He’ll be back.”
I turned to her. “Fuck him, Nora. He hasn’t texted once since he acted like a massive dick.”
“He’s dealing with a breakup. He’s dealing with what was in that envelope. He’s dealing with his feelings for you.”
“I don’t let men shit on me. You didn’t know me back then. Before Rollo. That kind of thing is a hard pass. One and done.”
“Right, then, even though I think you’re making a huge mistake, at the very least, you have to know what he’s doing about what’s in that envelope.”
“I’ll contact him when I’m not as pissed as I am now.”
“And I will not hesitate to remind you, you’re as pissed as you are because he means something to you.”
“We barely know each other.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
Suddenly, she rapped her knuckles on the workbench, and I almost snarled that she’d dare touch it.
“When did this begin?” she demanded.