Dark Intentions - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,16
bakery."
I move my neck from side to side, trying to work out the pain, but it just gets worse.
A moment later, my neck has completely stiffened and I have to move my whole body around just to turn and look behind me.
"Come here.” She points and sets me down in the chair and begins to rub my neck gently.
After a few minutes, the spasm relaxes.
Her massage gets more intense and my neck starts to feel infinitely better.
"Thanks for getting all of this, but you know how I am with white flour. It's not good for me,” she says sweetly.
I nod.
She’s wearing the same robe and the silk pajamas from last night, along with some sort of mask on her face that's blue in color and yogurt-like in consistency.
Suddenly, I want to cry. She has always been so good about taking care of herself, making sure that she drinks enough water and she eats only healthy food, and that's why her face looks like she is at least fifteen years younger than she is without any fillers or Botox.
And yet she's the one who is sick.
She's the one that has been sick for as long as I can remember.
First, it was the chronic disease, the mold, and then the cancer diagnosis. It went into remission and then was back again, back in remission, and now it's more aggressive than ever.
"You have to get this treatment," I say. "I don't care if I have to rob a bank, but we're going to do this."
She's surprised by my tenacity and the determination in my face.
"Okay," she says after a brief pause.
"I'm going to figure it out, and I'll tell you what happens, but you fill out this paperwork and you tell them that we have the money and that we're going through with it as soon as possible."
She reaches over, grabs me, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders.
Suddenly she begins to sob.
I think she needed this. I think she needed for me to step up to the plate and not always be her child, but to take action for once.
I hold her as tears roll down my cheeks, and we both sob and I try to figure out how the hell I'm going to make this happen.
11
Jacqueline
I can't believe that this is actually happening. I put my head on the steering wheel resting briefly. When the light turns green, I continue to stare straight ahead even when the asshole behind me leans into his horn.
“I'm going. I'm going, okay?” I roll down the window to gesture to him but he already drives around my used Toyota Corolla with a dented front side and flips me off.
I don't care. I'm upset, not about him, but something else. I can't believe this is happening.
I press on the accelerator and drive and get onto the first exit going onto the highway. I do this sometimes to clear my head.
I drive nowhere, in particular, just to be alone with my thoughts.
I turn on the radio going through the channels and nothing strikes and keeps my interest. When I pass a few exits, I flip on my phone and start to blast 90s, No Doubt.
This is the music that I grew up with and this is what I listened to long after it was no longer popular. I thrash around and sing along at the top of my lungs. And then I put on Aerosmith’s “Cryin’”, also from the 90s, and then some earlier stuff from the 70s.
I feel a little bit better, a bit more empowered, but the cracks quickly begin to show when I pull off the exit and head into a gas station for snacks.
I'm just wasting time. I'm just trying to make sense of something that makes no sense at all before I have to go back home and deal with life there.
How did this happen?
How did my life get so fucked up so quickly?
I grab a pack of M&M's and a bottle of water and get back in my car, into my fortress of solitude. This is where the world isn't loud and obnoxious, but quiet. This car is over six years old and I'm its third or fourth owner but it's all mine, with the loan paid off and everything, which means that I'm not likely to lose it unless someone crashes into me.
I pop a chocolate into my mouth, letting it settle on my tongue, allowing the sugar to melt slowly, not usually something I have much patience for. I