Is There Ever an End?

So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley is raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. She has come to love Waylon as if he were her own. When Dougie returns to town, Miranda is afraid that he has come back to take the boy with him. One of Waylon's teachers is murdered, and Dougie is the prime suspect. As much as Miranda wants him out of her life, she knows he is innocent and sets out to prove it.

***********************************************************************************************

Sometimes life gives you lemons. You no sooner cut them up when one of them squirts the juice right in your eye. So much for making lemonade. That's how this day has been. After everyone leaves the store I look down at the crimson stain of wine on the floor, and a rush of nausea hits me. I hurry to the restroom, push back my hair and lose my lunch. I try to get myself together, splashing cold water from the sink onto my face.

Everything is so out of control. Dougie threatening to take Waylon. That old man coming to do God knows what to me. Waylon's teacher thought of as the best thing since sliced bread to some, and a predator to others.

I drag the mop and bucket out of the closet and roll it over to the counter. I grip the mop tightly, wondering what would have happened if Alice and Brenda hadn't come in the store.

Alice had winked at me as Tyler escorted them to his squad car to run them home. "Gals like us, we need to stick together," she had said. Gals like us.

Matt shows up, tells me to clock out and go home. I don't protest. I want to go home. I want to crawl into my bed, close my eyes and dream about puppies, and rainbows. Anything other than my real life.

******************************************************************************************

I turn into the Garden of Eden Mobile Home Park. I pass Mrs. Fine's trailer, making out the red glow of her cheap cigarette as she sits on her deck in the dark, watching over the neighborhood. I turn into the driveway I share with Aaron, and look over.

Colleen's car is parked next to his truck, and they are sitting on his deck. In the soft light of his porch, I can see them laughing, just being young. Colleen's hair is down, not pulled back into her usual tight ponytail. I smile as she tilts her head ever so slightly when she looks at him.

In the midst of chaos, there can be normalcy just as in the midst of normalcy, chaos can happen. I guess that's just life. No road maps or guarantees when you enter this world, just a smack on the tush.

I know Momma has taken Waylon to see his dad in the hospital, and I assume they won't be home for a couple of hours. I let myself in, lock the door as I hang my purse on the hook by the door. I should eat something but everything in the fridge looks revolting. I feel like I'm falling apart. Momma once told me how when menopause starts, everything changes. Is that what is happening to me? Am I going through the change of life? That's just great. Why not?

I've managed to stay alive despite two attempts on my life. I've finally met the man of my dreams. I'm happy to be taking care of a kid who was dumped on my through no fault of his own. His scumbag father is attempting to extort a ridiculous amount of money, just so I can keep him with me. Now, the big old mixed bag of hot flashes, weight gain, irritability and rogue chin hairs is mine for the next few years. Oh, happy day.

I need to take a shower. Ignore the woman in the mirror. She's a bitch and will certainly point out the obvious. I'm not in the mood to deal with her shit tonight.

The water feels so good, the stream working the tight kinks in my neck. I hold out my hands, examining my swelling fingers. A new detail to add to the thick book of menopause. Finishing quickly, I swipe my hand across the foggy mirror. She smiles back at me.

"Don't start, I'm not in the mood."

"Look in the back of the cabinet. You still have one down there. Menopause, schmenopause. You and I both know what's happening here. Just do it."

I crouch down and reach into the darkened recesses of the cabinet. Two blow dryers, an ancient bottle of talc, drain cleaner and some pads that I haven't had to use much lately. At last, I feel the slender box way in the back.

It isn't possible. I'm just shy of forty years old. Mitch is knocking on the door of forty-seven. The test is expired, so it probably won't work anyway. But, what the heck, I'll take it for shits and giggles. I stand up and wave it in the mirror. "Okay, smart ass. I'll take the test if only to shut you up."

"Okay, let me know the outcome," my reflection says.

I pull the wrapper out of the box, skim the instructions then without further ado, hold it under my stream. it says it takes ten minutes, but seeing as how it's a couple of years out of date, I set it on the back of the toilet and turn out the light.

I lay back on the bed after I pull on my nightshirt and the fatigue of the day, hell, the last couple of weeks finally sets in. I fall into a deep sleep.

*************************************************************************************

"Miranda!"

I sit up quickly, trying to get my bearings. I don't know if it's morning or if the trailer is on fire.

"What? Waylon, what's wrong?"

He turns my bedroom light on, standing there with eyes wide. "Are you pregnant?"

"No. It was an old test. I was just fooling around. Sorry, I should have thrown it in the trash."

Waylon bites his lip. "Two lines, Miranda. It's showing positive. You're pregnant."

He steps back into the hall and motions for me to follow him. "Look for yourself."

Sure enough, two lines, dark pink, in the little window. I lift the test up and turn around. "This, this can't be right." I'm almost forty years old. I should be starting menopause, not this.

But, as unbelievable as this is, I feel a flicker of hope. I just hope Mitch feels the same.


to be continued...