At Peace

I didn’t have a chance to react when he slid out from under me carefully then pulled the covers over me while I acted like a chicken and feigned being asleep. Nearly silent, he got dressed and left the room. But he left the door open partway and I heard the girls and Joe murmuring. Then I heard the doorbell, Dane’s murmur mingled with theirs then the door closed.


Then silence.

I kept my eyes closed, waiting, but he didn’t come back.

Somehow I fell back to sleep, telling myself that whole thing was a dream.

Now I was awake, hoping the same. But I knew he’d gotten into bed with me.

The bastard.

I stared at the ceiling wishing I hadn’t encouraged the girls to go with Dane and his parents. They’d wanted to cancel and Dane had said it was okay, even that he’d stay and not go with his brother and parents to the lake which they’d done every year since he could remember.

But a month ago, when they asked Kate to come along and to bring Keira that was all either girl could talk about. I hadn’t been able to give them a summer vacation and Dane’s parents rented a cabin for four days, Thursday through Sunday. It was all water-skiing, tubing, lying out by the lake and getting a tan, fishing and barbeques every night. An end of the summer blast. A vacation, not a long one, but it sounded like a fun one. Something, not much, but it was something and I wanted them to have as many somethings as they could get.

They didn’t want to leave me and I didn’t want them to, but I didn’t want them to miss it either. I didn’t want them to miss out on anything in life. I wanted them to live their lives while they had a chance and remember it could be a blast. Even now. Even so soon after Sam.

Especially so soon after Sam.

And Sam would want that too.

Now I realized my mistake. It was too soon, way, way too soon for me and, probably, for them.

I looked at the clock again.

They were probably already there or close. I’d call them after I had breakfast.

I got out of bed and padded to the bathroom, using it, washing my face, brushing my teeth, I padded back out and into the kitchen. There was a note by the coffeemaker. I picked it up and read it.

Hi Mawdy,

We left. We didn’t wake you. Joe said to let you sleep. Call us, you need anything. Love you to pieces.

xoxoxoxox Kate

PS: Coffee’s made, just flip the switch.

PPSS: Joe made it.

I gritted my teeth.

Fucking Joe.

Under that:

Hey Momalicious,

I’ll keep my phone with me, even on the boat.

Love you.

xxooxxooxxoo Keirry

PS: Joe gave us each a hundred dollars! Isn’t that cool?

PPSS: Don’t forget to go get Mooch.

Fucking, fucking Joe!

He was buying Keira which would work in a flash and the bastard knew it.

I pulled in breath and, instead of screaming, I sighed, dropped the note and flipped the switch on the coffeemaker.

Bobbie had given me until Monday off paid which was nice. Being hourly, she didn’t have to do that.

However she had also talked to me a couple of weeks ago about making me a manager. That salary would mean I’d get paid regularly what I got paid overtime which would be good, having that kind of money steady. But it also came with a load of responsibility which meant I’d still be working the overtime and have a bunch of headaches to go with it.

But she was through, she told me. She’d opened the garden center thirty years ago and she was plum tuckered out, (her words).

“Gotta take a break and you’re the only one I ever hired I can trust with the place. So, now’s my time. If you take the promotion, I get to have my time,” she said and, I had to admit, since I liked her despite her being ornery (or because of it), I wanted her to have that time. Not to mention the steady pay.

But she still hadn’t hired anyone to replace my part-time work. So if I became the manager, that meant I had to get trained to do what Bobbie did, none of which I knew how to do, and also find someone else and train them. Not to mention, there was a reason Bobbie didn’t trust anyone else who worked there. Most of them were good but it was just a job, they weren’t like me, what they did was not something they loved. The others who worked there, they were pains in the asses, even for me and the rest of the crew, and I didn’t have to supervise them and I didn’t relish the idea of doing it.

And on top of that, Mrs. Cousin’s yard that I’d redesigned and planted had gone over great. Mrs. Cousin loved it so much she showed it off and told all her friends all about me. Now I had two of her friends and her neighbor who all wanted me to work in their gardens, planting fall flowers and setting it up with bulbs for spring then coming back and sorting it out for the summer. Mrs. Cousin wanted me back too.

This meant I was working forty-five to fifty hour weeks and I had a shitload of other work. Money was coming in which was good and it didn’t feel like work which was also good. But I could feel burnout coming. I knew it.

And, on top of that, what was next for me?

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