Setting the handheld phone back on the check-in desk, I feel numb. I don’t know how long I’ve stood there when I hear Allison’s voice. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Her Oklahoma accent draws out some words a little.
Turning to her, I take another deep breath and try to wipe the dazed look off my face. “It’s going to take a month or longer to fix my car.”
“Well, that’s alright, honey, the room is yours as long as you need it.”
With a huff and a forced smile, I say, “Well, paying for the room will be no problem, it’s paying the seven-thousand-dollar price tag to have my car fixed that’s making me want to vomit.”
She whistles low between her teeth, like a guy, and shakes her head. “Damn, girl, not to be crude, but that fucking sucks.”
“How am I going to pay for that?” I’m not really talking to her, the question just kind of escapes with my incredulous sigh.
She shrugs her shoulder, her eyes shining like she just thought of the best idea ever. “Maybe you could get a part-time job while you’re waiting.”
That would involve showing ID and starting a digital trail. Can’t do that. Pasting a fake smile of gratitude on my face, I look at her. “Good idea. Thanks.”
6
TUCKER
THE CEILINGfan spins slowly, lazily, almost mockingly, as my heart beats so hard it feels like my torso is shaking, and my body is covered in sweat. Connecting my waking thoughts with the images that were just in my head before I opened my eyes is like trying to thread a shaking needle.
Even when awake, I can still hear Matthews moaning on the stretcher next to me in the MEDEVAC, and the pain in my leg in the dream doesn’t go away when I wake up. I can still feel the injury from nearly a year ago like it just happened.
Before that day, I could wake up clear-headed and be up and ready to go in seconds. Now it takes nearly ten minutes to wade through the bullshit that clouds my thoughts to get to mostly clear-headed. Fucking hajis and their fucking bombs.
The smell of bacon and eggs floats across my nose, and I can hear babies screaming and laughing in the house. Just like clockwork, every morning at breakfast, I hear small footsteps thumping in the hall, and they stop outside my door.
A small hand slaps against the wood, and I hear my nephew, Beckett, yell through the door. “Uncaw Tuck!” More banging on the door that makes me smile. “Mommy said come get beckfast.”
Some days, all the kids we have in the house now grate on my nerves, those are bad days for me and is not their fault. Butmost days, they are a distraction from the shitshow my life has become. Their innocence and complete fucking honesty remind me what the world can be like.
The doorknob rattles in the slow way of a toddler trying to turn the knob, but I always keep the door locked. I can’t risk them coming into my room while I’m still asleep. I would never forgive myself if I accidentally hurt one of them.
“Just a second, buddy.” I yell and throw the covers off me.
“Okay!” he always sounds like he’s excited. He’s almost four, but he’s sharp as a tack, happy as can be, and talks like an adult half the time, except he has trouble pronouncing his Ls and Rs.
My leg is stiff, and the pain shooting up to my hip and down to my ankle almost makes me want to lie back down. Breathing through the pain, it takes half a minute, but I finally get upright.
Unlocking the door, I open it, and a three-foot human runs past me, grabs the comforter on my bed as he hikes his leg up on the sideboard and climbs up like a monkey. He spins around and sits on his ass with an ornery as shit smile that looks just like my brother Mason. His black hair and green eyes are straight from his mama, though.
“Hold on, buddy, I gotta take a pi… Uhm, I need to pee.” I say as I ruffle his hair and slowly go to my bathroom.
“Okay!” He’s bouncing on the bed as I shut the bathroom door while shaking my head with a grin.
Ten minutes later, I limp into the chaos that is our kitchen with Beckett on my back, his little arms tight around my neck.
My sister, Marley, sees me walk in, I’m trying to hide the limp, but she narrows her eyes as she watches me and turns to the cabinet next to the fridge with my two-year-old niece Niki on her hip. Her belly is like a beach ball with another nephew. She looks like she’s about to pop any day, and I wonder how she is able to hold Niki on her hip like that.
The little girl has blond hair just to her shoulders and ice-blue eyes like her daddy, who is sitting at the breakfast nook with her twin, Sofi, in his lap. It looks like they are scribbling with highlighters on sticky notes that are next to a set of plans for the house they are building on the property.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” The weight on my back is lifted as Mason grabs Beckett and stands next to me at the kitchen island with the boy on his hip. “How’s the leg today? Kinley said you were in quite a bit of pain last night.”
“I’m fine,” I grumble before a glass of orange juice is pushed in front of my face and Marley holds her hand out to drop some pills into my hand.
I fucking hate it when they talk about me like I’m a kid that needs to be taken care of. I’ve considered moving out on my own more and more lately. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but the smothering pity and the fussing over me makes my fucking head want to spin off.
Marley’s big blue eyes look up at me. The silent mom message that she’s perfected since our own mom passed away when we were kids is clear - take the damn pills.
