Miranda
Ihated spring. The season of newness felt like a slap to the face because nothing new or good ever happened to me. While everyone welcomed the warm April weather and prepped their flower beds, I tucked my tail. Tried not to do anything the universe might interpret as a dare. Chaos had a way of finding me. If circumstances didn’t screw me over, I usually found a way to do it myself.
Self-inflicted suffering has always been my preferred mode of delivery. When you are the bonehead causing problems in the first place, it’s easier to swallow. You grit your teeth and handle the consequences. But when other people cause the suffering? The result is an onion. There are layers to process. The whys, the grief, the betrayal. And after you’ve gone through every layer, the sting lasts a long time.
I ended the call on my phone, despair wrapping its tentacles around my midsection. I deep-breathed once, then twice. Fighting to stay calm.
Kacey ambled to where I sat on the porch steps, holding a clover flower up to my face. “Dis is for you, Mommy!”
“Oh, thank you. It’s so beautiful.” I sniffed and tilted my head to the side, attempting to keep my tears from spilling over. Three-year-old Kacey had grown so aware of my feelings the past few months. It was becoming difficult to hide my ever-present watery eyes or conceal the tremor in my voice. “Can you find me some more? I want a bouquet.”
“Sure!” He ran off. I frantically wiped at the escapees, soaking them into the underside of my sweatshirt. I prayed the bouquet task would buy me thirty seconds to get my crap together.
Anxiety roiled through my stomach. I hadn’t expected the representative from the Cincinnati women’s shelter to turn Kacey and me away. I could tell it pained her, but the apologetic tone of her voice didn’t help to soften the blow.
She’d said calls were at an all-time high.
There were no beds. None at all. Only a big, fat waitlist.
And I wassickof waiting. Truly sick. As the days went by, it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. Like my body was slowly dying alongside my heart.
I had made plan after plan after plan. But there was always a hole. Always a problem—usually money or a place to land. Everything I owned belonged to my boyfriend, Chris. My home and everything in my wallet besides my license. It was an unfortunate reality he never let me forget.
My dear cousin, Tag, had offered for us to come live with him in Texas on the ranch he inherited from our grandparents. I spent every summer there growing up. As much as I loved the ranch, moving there was an option I hated from the depths of my being. The place was one grocery trip away from bankruptcy. Tag promised that no matter what happened to the ranch and his home, we’d figure it out, thatour safety was the most important thing. He was right, but Kacey and I would only be extra mouths to feed and I couldn’t stand the thought of burdening Tag more than he already was. But, what choice did I have?
I wished things were different with my mom, but she was wrapped up in her own life. Definitely didn’t care to be bothered with mine. Her life was all about her man. She’d stopped being a safe option long ago. If I went to her, she’d keep us for a few days then encourage me to go back to him no doubt.
If I was ever going to leave Chris behind, Texas just became the final option.
I could not—would not—keep staying in Ohio.
I raised my voice so Kacey could hear. “See the clover patch near the fence? Go get those!”
He shrieked in delight and ran off. I sniffed hard, determined to get through the evening. Kacey needed me, and Chris would be home anytime now. I could sink into hopelessness after everyone was safely asleep.
Before I could dry my face, the unmistakable low rumble of the Challenger’s souped-up engine jerked my attention down the street. I turned my head away, stuffing the phone in my jeans’ pocket. I rubbed my nose then pressed on my cheeks.
I stood, strolling toward the driveway. If I didn’t greet him, he would wonder why.
Chris parked and the loud bass speakers clicked off with the engine. He stepped out, flashing me the poised smile that fooled many unsuspecting people with its charm. His eyes were concealed by mirror-like sunglasses. I couldn’t read him when he wore those. He said, “Hey, sweet thing.”
“Hey, baby.”
He pulled me into a hug. His clothes reeked of beer.
So much for the job search.
“Any luck out there today?”
“Nah.” He draped his heavy arm over my shoulders. “Nobody wants to pay anything worth it these days.”
“Not many are worth the pay.”
He stopped, frowning down at me. The ripple across his lips made my mouth dry as his fingers barely tensed around my upper arm. “What do you mean by that?”
I smacked his chest and produced a fake giggle that usually worked in my favor. “Oh, you know I don’t meanyou.”
He relaxed, his lips softening into a neutral expression. “Hope not.”
