***So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child.   She finds a dead body, meets her nemesis for a drink, sees more than she should and high tails it home.***

 

 

 

 

I keep checking my rearview mirror to make sure Missy isn't racing after me. My guess is she's probably still in the back hall making whoopee with Austin, the waiter.

 

Missy has always been a fast mover.  After I stopped hanging out with her, I had heard a rumor she hooked up with Mr. Soto.  I always figured it was just some made up story, but after seeing what I saw in the back hall bathroom at The Sand Bar, maybe it wasn't just a nasty rumor.

 

Never before has the sign to Garden of Eden Mobile Home Park looked so inviting.  I turn off my high beams and slow down to fifteen miles per hour.  

 

The park is different at night.  It's peaceful.  Since the county doesn't run street lights out this far, you can see the stars.  It's nice.  It's my little slice of heaven.

 

Pulling up to my place, I see Aaron and Waylon sitting on the porch.  They're an odd couple but seem to bring out the best in each other.  I know Waylon misses his dad and, I guess, in some ways, Aaron fills that void.

 

These stupid tight jeans might need to be surgically removed, but they will be removed.  Then I'm going to toss them in the trash, along with the notion that someone in their mid-thirties should be wearing them.

 

"Miranda," Aaron says as he lifts a mug to his lips.  "Where you been?"

 

"She met someone.  She said it wasn't a date," Waylon says.

 

"You were on a date?"

 

I shake my head.  "No.  I had a drink with someone.  I started to get a headache then came home.  What are you two doing?"

 

Aaron reaches beside him.  He lifts a tray of cookies up and tilts it so I can see more clearly.  "We are feasting on Oreos."

 

"You have milk?" I ask.

 

"We do."

 

I nod.  "I am going to extract myself from the vicelike grip of these jeans.  When I come back I would like some of those Oreos."

 

"Ok."

 

I get to the top of the steps and reach for the door handle.  "If you hear me screaming or crying, don't come inside.  It's just me trying to get these pants off."

 

Waylon giggles into the cup he's holding to his mouth.

 

The pants come off easier than anticipated but there is an angry red line around my waist.  This never used to happen.  Getting old sucks.  

 

I try not to make eye contact with my bitchy reflection.  She chimes in anyway.

 

"Maybe you should lay off the Oreos," she says.

 

"Maybe you should shut the hell up.  I've had a terrible day and night.  If I want cookies, I'm gonna eat cookies.  If I get chunky, there's more of me for you to make fun of."

 

"There's plenty now.  Remember when you weighed one hundred and twenty pounds?  What are you now?  One forty? One forty-five?  You don't even have the excuse of having kids."

 

"I still look pretty good."

 

"You've looked better."

 

"Men still look.  Make no mistake about it." I tug on the straps of my bra.

 

The me in the mirror looks at her nails casually.   "Your boobs can only take you so far, Miranda.  You should know that by now."

 

I look for something to throw.

 

"Go on.  Eat your Oreos.  Just remember, when you bought those jeans you were just wrestling with, they fit."

 

I pull the jeans out of the waste basket and toss them on my bed.  I pull on a pair of sweatpants and join them outside.

 

"Shove over, Waylon.  I'm gonna Yoko Ono my way in here."

 

Aaron laughs as he hands me the tray of delicious cookies.  "We're out of milk. I'll share mine with you, if you'd like."

 

I sit down and grab three cookies.  "How was your day, Aaron?"

 

He gets ready to answer but I cut him off.  

 

"My day sucked.  Matt told me to go home because, apparently, I'm a crime celebrity and a distraction.  Then, as I'm leaving via the back door, I kick a pair of scissors that look like they have blood on them.  So, we call the sheriff's office.  Guess who comes to answer the call?  Yep, good old Mitch."

 

"Well, it is kinda his job," Aaron says softly.

 

"I thought you didn't like him."

 

"He's a cop.  I don't like any cops.  But it is his job."

 

I angrily stuff an Oreo into my mouth.  "Geez, Aaron, pick a side.  You're either on my side or his side."

 

"Wait.  Side?  I didn't know there were sides."

 

"He thinks I killed Ed. I can see it in his eyes.  I did not kill him or anyone."

 

I grab some more Oreos.  "Do you think I did it?"

 

"No."

 

I turn quickly towards Waylon.   "How about you?  Do you think I could have killed him?"

 

He shakes his head rapidly, hesitantly reaching for another cookie.

 

"Then why is this happening to me?  Do either of you know why it's happening?  I just want my life back.  It wasn't great but it was good enough for me.  Why is this,"  I stop talking, put the uneaten cookies back in the tray. "I went to meet with Missy tonight.  I thought I'd be able to discover some weakness in her armor.   But she doesn't have any weaknesses.  She's rich.  She owns the world, and people like us."

 

Aaron takes the tray and puts it on the step beside him.  He moves closer and lays his arm across my shoulder.

 

"We all know you didn't do anything wrong.  We're here with you.  We got your back.  Right, Waylon?"

 

"Right."

 

For a few minutes, I don't feel so alone.  I hastily wipe my eyes before any tears might escape.  I reach one hand out for Waylon's hand and the other one for Aaron.

 

"Thanks."  I look down.  "Do y'all think I'm fat?"

 

Waylon pulls his hand away and struggles to get to his feet.  "I need to take a shower for school tomorrow.  See ya, Aaron."

 

Aaron looks like a deer in headlights.  "So, where did you go tonight?"

 

"Nice evasive tactic.  Where'd you learn that?"

 

He smiles.   "My dad told me never to answer that question if a woman asks it."

 

"Well, since you didn't say yes, pass me a couple more Oreos."

 

"Here you go.  And not that it matters, but I think you're one of the coolest, prettiest chicks I've ever seen."

 

I'm thankful for the dark because I can feel my cheeks flush.  "Not that it matters, but it means a lot."

 

 

 

 

To be continued ...