The Pretender - Cora Brent Page 0,12
some errands to run.”
Her tired voice floats out at the end of a sigh. “All right.”
My hand is on the worn brass knob. “Are you okay?”
Stupid question. A person is not okay when she has cancer.
“I’m fine, Cam.”
The sour lump is my throat is familiar. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No.” The water begins running again.
Normally Adela would be curious about my plans, not because she tries to be intrusive, but because she’s a devoted parent. I’m a daughter to her and always have been. She told me so on the day she married my father and she meant it.
On my way out of the room I glimpse a framed family photo on my father’s dresser. It was taken two years ago. Frankie is making a funny face and I’m laughing but it’s our parents who catch my attention. My father’s arm is draped over Adela’s shoulders and her gleaming black hair falls past her shoulders. Her eyes are on the camera lens but my father gazes at her with an expression of love and pride. After suffering the heartbreak of losing his first wife in a car accident sixteen years ago and then raising a daughter on his own it must have seemed to him like he’d finally found his happily ever after. Not just for him, but for us. All of us. Frankie’s father has never been part of his life. Like any other family we’ve had our struggles but we’ve always been happy. And then Adela discovered a lump in her left breast shorty after her thirty-fifth birthday. After that came the surgeries, the rounds of chemo and radiation, the anguish of watching her fight back tears because she’s so exhausted. Nothing about it is fair.
I pause at the mirror beside the front door to straighten my long ponytail and ensure that I look presentable. I’m wearing jeans and a thick white cable knit sweater and while I don’t appear ready to take on Wall Street I think I’m worthy enough to qualify for a low paying job in Devil Valley.
The sun is shining and the air is far warmer than it was a few days ago, although this is only temporary. December always carries the bite of winter on its shoulders. But for now it is nice to be outside and I commit to a positive attitude as I make my way to the squat business sector in the middle of Devil Valley.
Two hours later both my positivity and my ego are feeling a little bruised. Neither one of the town’s hair salons are looking for new employees. The grocery store manager told me to try again after the holidays. No one at the auto parts store would even speak to me. Two fast food establishments allow me to fill out an application but don’t seem optimistic that any jobs will be opening up in the near future. The pair of elderly sisters running an insurance office were very nice and regretted that they did not have any need of office help. But they did offer me a soda and a couple of stale ginger snap cookies before sending me on my way.
At this point my feet hurt and I’m running out of places to try. The bench at the bus stop is empty so I take a seat and stare moodily at the sights of Devil Valley. No one would call this a pretty town and for most of my life I’ve been in a hurry to get out of here. Lately I’ve been trying not to dwell on the reality that I won’t be going very far next year.
I notice a pair of guys walking down Cardinal Street in my direction. They are wearing Devil Valley High jackets and they are the McGill brothers, Alex and Damian. They are strong and violent and vulgar and they are definitely heading this way. I’ve known them since grade school and the older they grew the meaner they got. Then puberty hit and magnified their worst qualities. On the first day of eighth grade Damian snapped my bra strap so hard my eyes watered. Then Alex leaned in to chuckle in my ear, ‘Like it or not, we’re gonna bust your sweet cherry one of these days, Galway.’ Ever since transferring to Black Mountain I’ve managed to stay out of their orbit. I’d rather not change that habit today.
Running away would only attract their attention so I frantically search for an alternative. There’s a gas