On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,64

compelled.

Was this how it started for the truly insane? Convincing themselves that magic was real and it required a bodily liquid sacrifice? What was next? Would I start luring strangers to the store and drain them to power my supposed magic?

Please don’t let me be nuts.

A heavy breath sighed from me as I stared up at the night sky. I puffed little clouds, the heat of my breath clashing with the cold of the night. A natural kind of freezing.

My gloves were in my bag, but rather than dig for them, I shoved my hands into my pockets and sauntered down the street to the diner. I could have taken my car. Should have. Now I’d have to walk back, and yet I didn’t truly regret my choice. A light snow fell, soft, delicate, the kind that tickled the skin before slowly melting.

It didn’t even come out to a drop when I let one melt on my tongue. Yes, I was sticking my tongue out, in public, catching snowflakes. It felt great.

I’d never realized as I aged just how many rules I put upon myself. Strict rules on how I should behave, what I was allowed to do. A grown woman didn’t eat snow. She wore loose slacks or jeans, hip-length sweaters, sturdy bras, and full bottom, high-waisted panties.

In my younger days, I used to wear bikini style. When did I go from being a girl who used to blithely sport thongs under my skirt to wearing shorts over my underpants to prevent sweaty thighs and embarrassing flashes of too much ass cheek?

Once upon a time, I’d sworn I’d never be that mom who turned to track pants, never be that wife who eschewed makeup or got lazy with her hair. I’d been so young and naïve then. Never imagined how having kids would fill up the parts of my day that used to be for myself. I’d slowly let go, and it wasn’t a bad thing, not at first.

Martin made a few comments, but he was one to talk. He never made any attempt to curb that morning fart that made me want to die. Try getting frisky after that. I usually rushed to the washroom for a pee and a prayer that the smell would be gone when I went back.

Even had I found the time to keep myself looking put together, over time my body began to betray me. It started with gaining weight. Used to be I could eat anything I wanted. I’d go to the double arches and get a meal with an extra cheeseburger. No big deal.

The ability to process that food disappeared after my first pregnancy.

Then it took me over two decades of weight gain before I learned I couldn’t keep eating the way I used to in my youth. I had to relearn what I could stuff into my face that wouldn’t cause me to bloat and crave more. Had to change myself.

You know what they say about habits being hard to break? Food. Food was one of the most difficult. But I was on my way to being healthier. I finally felt good again. And it wasn’t just about the food and the number on the scale. I was beginning to realize that youth wasn’t the only reason for the energy I used to have; the state of my mind counted for a lot, too.

I am not old.

Not yet. Not ever.

I lifted my face to the falling snow. I spun around, arms wide, and for the first time in a long time didn’t care if anyone saw me. Let them watch me dancing in the snow. I didn’t care what they thought. It felt good to me.

When I stopped twirling, I stood flushed and smiling.

Which, of course, was when the car driving slowly down the road tried to mount the curb and hit me.

19

A deer had nothing on me. I froze rather than dive out of the way.

I held out my hands, as if to shield myself, even knowing it wouldn’t help. Fragile flesh and bone against a ton of metal?

Goodbye, world.

Hands outstretched, I expected to die, only, just before impact, my palms suddenly burned with cold. The bright lights of the car speared me as it got within inches. There was a screech as if it rubbed along an invisible wall before thumping off the sidewalk and racing down the road. I watched the red taillights, which soon disappeared. Trembling. Heart pounding. Clenching my fists, which still tingled.

What had just