arrived home intact. No tree falling on my car. No sudden slick roads and spooky shit sending me spinning into ditches. All hail Naomi, conquering the commute.
I parked by my garage, with carriage house doors that I freaking loved, and eyed the expansive window on the second story. New since this morning.
Please let it be a studio. I’d discovered a love of art. Not a skill, I should add. My attempts were atrocious in most cases, and yet that didn’t stop me from wanting to create.
I entered the house, and the only one to greet me was my cat. With a strident meow, Grisou came running out of nowhere and slammed into my legs. He’d gotten awfully big. Winnie joked I’d adopted a Maine Coon, which apparently got to be huge.
Whatever the case, my kitten wasn’t easy to grab and snuggle anymore, but he kept me warm at night when he slept on my bed.
I scratched Grisou behind the ears, and his aircraft carrier rumble brought a smile. “I missed you, too. Maybe next week you can come to the shop with me. See if there’s any mice.”
My cat cocked his head as if thinking about it then sauntered off, tail in the air. His version of “I’ll let you know at my convenience.” His attitude made me understand all the cat memes I’d seen over the years. They truly were feline gods.
I knocked on the basement door and waited for a shout to go down a flight. Geoff was parked on the couch in front of his new gaming center.
He cast me a quick glance. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey right back at you. I just got home.”
“You looking for some company?” He paused the game.
Just as I was about to say yeah, that would be awesome, his phone rang. He grabbed it and glanced at the screen.
He sighed. “It’s Helena. I’ll call her back.”
Helena his fiancée? “You should answer. I’m tired and going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Say hi for me.”
“Will do. Love ya.”
It was casual, but I soaked it up as I headed upstairs to the main floor then another flight to my room. There was a time I would have huffed and puffed. Now, I was just energized.
A bath would be nice, but I hesitated. The last time I took a bath, my home was invaded by winged imps and a giant demon that wanted to fight.
And ignorant little me won. I’d won without any kind of knowledge or skill, and I knew more now. I wouldn’t let fear control me.
I ran the bath and went looking for reading material. The family tree book taunted, but I feared getting annoyed enough that I’d intentionally drop it in the tub to ruin it. I found myself instead scrounging under the bed and pulling out Martin’s box. I dragged it into the open and scrounged inside for the journals, eyeing the dates. The one I grabbed covered the year before Winnie’s birth.
Martin was her dad. The journal would confirm it.
I took the thick, hard-covered book into the bathroom and set it on a stool by the tub, along with my phone just in case the crazy was too much and I wanted to play Candy Crush. It was relaxing to the extreme.
I stepped into the tub and had a sighing moment as the heat relaxed me. My eyes shut, and I reflected on my day, which—other than the visit from Kane’s mom—was a good one. Even the bit in the alley where I protected myself had been good. I’d come a long way from the woman contemplating suicide when her husband dumped her.
And I was still only halfway there. I had another possible forty to fifty years to go. To learn. To grow. To be happy.
I couldn’t wait. So why with this new attitude was I contemplating reading Martin’s personal thoughts? Did I really want to find out why my ex-husband started to hate me? See what he thought of me?
At times I thought there was a sadist in all of us that felt the need to understand why. Forget the hurt knowing would bring. I needed an answer. What did I do wrong?
I opened my dead husband’s journal, invading his privacy in a way I’d have never done when he lived, and became quickly confused. A few pages in and I realized this wasn’t the story of a man who hated his life or his wife.
July thirteenth.
Work today was tough. Pretty sure the new boss hates