Chapter 2
2
Amelia
M Y BARELY ADULT daughter stopped scrolling on her electronic tablet and stared up at me expectantly.
It was a typical Saturday night, which meant she was lounging on the sofa, asking random questions based on the news articles she read for her civics class, while I straightened the living room. Somewhere between dusting off the television and reorganizing the bookshelf, my mind had wandered, and judging by the exasperation on Morgan’s face, I must have missed a question.
“Uh… sorry, what?”
She huffed out a breath with all the drama of a put-upon teenage freeloader and pushed up her glasses. The lenses she wore weren’t corrective. She was blind in one eye, and her ophthalmologist had prescribed polycarbonate protection for her good eye. She didn’t need to wear them in the house, but my kid was a stickler for the rules, a trait she sure as hell hadn’t inherited from me.
“What do you want inscribed on your tombstone?”
I winced. “Don’t you think that’s a little dark?”
She shrugged. “It could prove necessary information for me to have.”
The familiar sound of running water coming from the hallway made me groan. “The toilet drove her to the grave.”
“Be serious, Mom.” Morgan dropped her attention back to her tablet, clearly unamused.
Humor and sarcasm were two languages my daughter didn’t speak, which was unfortunate since I wasn’t fluent in much else. Still, I was bound and determined to engage her in meaningful conversations and make her laugh. Especially since she’d be leaving for college soon. She’d be going all the way to Idaho for school because now that my husband was gone, my manipulative, narcissistic mother intended to use my children to lure me back into her world.
At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. Then again, she could be trying to turn them against me. Hard telling with her.
However, I was desperately trying not to worry about any of that. Or to wonder what I’d be once my baby flew the coop, leaving me with an empty nest. Nope. No siree. No harshing my vibe with future worries because I had neither the time nor the desire to become a sobbing mess of emotions. I had shit to do.
Instead, I marched toward the bathroom, intent on rolling up my sleeves and jiggling the chain until the flap closed, but as soon as I touched the door, the universe solved the problem for me. Silence.
“Have you considered planting clover instead of grass?” Morgan asked.
My brain stuttered and backfired before I realized she’d switched tracks to address the problem with our shaded, weed-infested lawn. Sometimes, I needed GPS and a skilled conductor to follow my daughter’s train of thought.
“Why clover?” I asked, returning to the living room. Where had I left off cleaning?
“It’s hardier than grass, better for the environment, and easier to grow.”
“Hm. I’ll have to look into it.”
The answer sounded non-committal, even in my own ears, but I was currently too overwhelmed to think about my losing battle against the lawn. I still had dishes to finish, a kitchen to sweep, and laundry to fold. To be real, the laundry would likely end up piled on one side of my bed, allowing me to push the task off to another day because I wanted nothing more than to march upstairs, shower, and engage in a little torturous self-care before falling into bed.
“Morgan, hun, I need you to run the vacuum over the living room before you go to bed.”
“Kay.”
Saturday nights, things sure got wild around here.
A blur of black fur and teeth bolted out of the bathroom to bark at the front door like a vicious attack beast. As if on cue, the door unlocked and burst open. My best friend and roommate charged into the house, shedding her outer layer and hanging it on the coat tree. Multicolored asymmetrical bob bouncing, she toed off some name-brand heels that had likely cost more than my entire shoe collection. Keys landed in the dish on the entry table with a clink. Then, without saying a word to us, Thia turned her attention to the bouncing, barking pup.
“Awww. Did my baby miss me?”
She used the voice reserved solely for her rescued mutt and for men too stupid to listen when she told them she wasn’t interested. Thia was a knockout, and all species and genders fell at her feet, as Bailey did right then, rolling to her back and shamelessly begging for belly scratches.
“Nope, you little pee pot, I am not falling for that again. If you want to see me, come up here and say hi like the badass bitch you are.”
Thia patted her leg, but Bailey continued to twitch on the floor like some broken windup toy. She was more runt-of-the-litter than the badass Thia, always the optimist, was manifesting. It was one of the many things I loved about her.
“Have you been a good girl today?” Thia asked the dog.
“She keeps hiding behind the toilet,” Morgan replied. “We really should trade her in for a normal dog.”
Thia snorted. “Right. Because we’re all about normal around here.”
Morgan pursed her lips together thoughtfully and went back to her tablet.
“I’m so glad you’re home.” I grabbed Thia’s hands, capturing her attention. “Do you know anything about plumbing?”
One expertly lined lip curled up at the question. “No, Amelia. Not all lesbians are home improvement specialists. I mean, look at me.” Perfectly manicured nails stabbed the space inches from my face. “Do these beauties look like they engage in manual labor? Sheesh. Stereotype much?”
I bit back a laugh at her theatrics, knowing full well she’d once been a cowgirl and was no stranger to physical work. My friend had a whole host of skills most people knew nothing about. Her past was painful for her, and she was determined to focus on this new identity, so I didn’t bring it up.
“Not stereotyping, more like wishful thinking,” I said instead. “The downstairs toilet won’t stop running, and if I had a sledgehammer, this would be a different conversation.”
“Did you check the flappy seal thingie? Sometimes, it doesn’t sit right on the hole.”
“Are you propositioning me?” I asked, unable to help myself. “It’s been a long time since anyone has. I can’t tell anymore.”
“In your dreams. I only date useful people, and you don’t even know how to fix a toilet.”
“Ouch. Also, touché.”
Her lips twitched a couple of times before she cracked a smile. “Maybe my next girlfriend will be a plumber.”
“Next girlfriend?”
I tried not to sound too hopeful, but Thia’s current on-and-off-again fling treated Thia like a dirty little secret kept swept under the carpet. She needed to show my friend a little more respect before she found herself rolled up in a rug.
In the back of my car.
And rolled off a bridge into the Puget Sound.
I seldom entertained thoughts of homicidal behavior, but perimenopause had been bringing out my inner rage and eviscerating my patience with ignorant assholes who couldn’t see Thia’s worth. Unfortunately, that seemed to be her type lately. We all grieved in our own ways, and that appeared to be hers.
“Wait. What are you doing home?” I asked. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”
“Jamie’s going to a family thing.” Thia frowned.
“A last-minute family thing she couldn’t invite you to?”
“She still hasn’t come out to her family.”
I huffed out a breath, hating what that poor woman must be going through. But I loved my friend more. “It sucks that she doesn’t have a family environment that provides the safety she needs to come out, but are you okay with being a secret?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m gonna need a little more unconditional support and a little less voice of reason from you right now.”
She wasn’t ready to be called on her bullshit yet.
“Noted. I’m just saying anyone worth your time would be proud to be with you.”
“Gotta know your worth, Thia,” Morgan added from the couch, gaze still plastered to her tablet.
Thia gasped in mock outrage. “I know my worth. I just go on sale sometimes. Are you seriously judging me from your pajamas on the couch? It’s Saturday night, and you’re here at home with us.”
“So?” Morgan still didn’t look up.
“You haven’t dipped a single toe into the dating pool yet, child. You have no idea how shark-infested the water is.”
Morgan’s brow furrowed as she finally lifted her gaze to Thia. “Sharks? I’m confused by the metaphor. Do your dates try to eat you?”
Thia flashed her a wicked grin. “I mean… only if I’m lucky.”
Morgan groaned and went back to her ebook.
I shook my head. “You walked right into that one, Morgan.” To Thia, I added, “Will you stop trying to traumatize my teenager?”
“What?” Thia asked. “She’s eighteen now, and she’s had sex ed. When do we get to start talking to her like an adult?”
“Regardless of her age, I can guarantee she’ll never want to hear about your sex life.”
I bent to pick up a dog toy, and pain speared me right through the spine, down my left butt cheek, and deep into my thigh. Hissing out a curse, I straightened. When the pain shooting down my leg lessened but didn’t disappear, I hobbled over to the sofa and flopped beside Morgan. That only seemed to intensify it, so I stood. Standing was marginally better now, so I hissed out a breath and shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a more comfortable position.
Thia watched the entire debacle with a concerned expression. “What is happening here? What do we need to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said through clenched teeth. “It feels like the rubber band connecting my leg, foot, and left butt cheek to my spine was left out in the sun too long, and now it’s all brittle and about to snap.”
“The rubber band, huh?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do the symptoms include pain, weakness, and numbness down one leg?” Morgan asked.
I wobbled a few steps and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
“According to the internet, you likely have sciatica and need physical therapy. It says here you should make a doctor’s appointment so they can verify the diagnosis and make a referral.”
“I don’t have time for that right now.” I dug my knuckles into my left butt cheek and tried to massage away the pain, but it didn’t help. “This’ll have to wait until after your college visits.”
Thia folded her arms across her chest. “Unacceptable.”
“I’m gonna need a little more unconditional support and a little less voice of reason from you right now.”
Lobbing Thia’s words back at her felt satisfying until Morgan popped her head up and chimed in.
“Agreed. You should check the app for the doctor’s office. Sometimes, they have cancelations.”
I wasn’t emotionally prepared for a diagnosis or to have a doctor assure me this was normal and that bodies just started falling apart once people reached their forties, but Morgan peeked up from her tablet. She and Thia both stared at me expectantly, waiting. This was a battle I couldn’t win, so I tugged my phone out of the pocket of my leggings and logged into the app.
Thia showed her absolute distrust in me by crossing the room to peer over my shoulder. “Lookie there.” She stabbed at the screen. “They have an appointment Tuesday morning before you guys leave. You better snag that one up before someone else gets it. Maybe I can come with you.”
I appreciated her concern, but this was getting ridiculous. “No. You’re not taking time off work to hold my hand. I’m a grown woman. I can handle this.” Tapping the appointment, I said, “There. All scheduled.”
“Promise me you’ll at least see if they can get you pain pills for the trip.”
“I’ll be driving.”
“Not at night, you won’t. Pain pills might help you sleep.”
But first, I had to suffer through the cruel and unusual punishment of a doctor’s appointment. “Fine. I will ask for drugs.”
“I’m proud of you for prioritizing your health.”
I flipped off her smart ass but kept the gesture on the side of my body where Morgan couldn’t see. Thia’s eyes bugged out comically, and she returned the gesture, flying both birds at me. Most days, we were the very definition of immature, and I loved it.
“I’m sending you a list of materials I need from Lowes,” Morgan said.
“For what?” Thia and I asked together.
“So I can fix the toilet. The how-to video I saved listed these as the necessary supplies.”
While my brain screeched to a halt, veered to the side, and jumped another train track, actual engines rumbled outside, drawing nearer before stopping in front of our house.
Bailey went crazy, yapping and trying to jump through the front window.
Morgan joined the dog, parting the curtain to peer outside.
“Uh, Mom, why are there motorcycles parked in our driveway?”