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I decided to take a shower before it came on and headed into the downstairs bathroom.
The second I hit the lights, my heart fell out of my chest.
I wanted to believe that what I was seeing was simply a sick joke by my imagination—a twisted fantasy I’d snap out of in seconds.
Pale and blue, Leah’s body lay lifeless in our tub. Her left arm was dangling over the edge, and the small velvet bag where she kept her cocaine was dangling from her fingertips.
Scattered across the floor were hundreds of prescription pills and empty orange bottles that bore the names of strangers. On the vanity, there was an empty syringe and a folded note that read “For my Em...”
Trembling, I rushed to her side and pressed my finger against her neck, hoping for a pulse.
Nothing.
I tilted her head back and tried to breathe life into her—pressing her chest with my hands every few seconds, but it was no use.
She was gone.
I sank down to the floor in tears—cursing her, hating her, for doing this to me. To us.
I had no friends to call, no family either, so in my numb and dazed state I somehow managed to call 9-1-1. While the operator attempted to calm me down by asking me to take deep breaths, I walked over to the vanity and unfolded Leah’s last note:
Em,
I know you’re confused right now, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so fucking much... You were the only thing that made my life worth living, and I wish I was strong enough to keep that in mind...
I’m not.
I’m tired of living a lie and I haven’t been happy in a very long time... I just can’t take it anymore...
I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life, but the biggest regret I have is the way I raised you...I’m so sorry... This is going to be hard for you to believe—especially since I’m gone, but I need you to forget all that shit I taught you. Right now.
Fuck using your looks to get what you want. Go to college and do some good shit with your life, like write or something. You’re a good writer, you’re very smart, and you need to use your brain to get ahead. Can you promise to do that for me, Em?
Then again...It’s probably too late and I’m willing to bet that you’ll end up just like me: A beautiful nothing...
It won’t be your fault though. It’ll be—
I stopped reading and flushed that note down the toilet. Her last words were clearly written out of sadness and they were only compounding my pain.
As far as I was concerned, Leah had raised me the best she could and she was far from a “beautiful nothing” in my eyes. In fact, I cherished every single thing she’d taught me.
Even though I was beyond hurt that she’d selfishly left me all alone, I was determined to remember her at her best and for everything she was to me:
My mother.
My best friend.
My role model.
Chapter 1
Present Day
My life is a fucking mess. A. Fucking. Mess.
I’m currently parked outside of Gina & Laney’s Diner, smoking a cigarette with my windows up. I’m looking over the check they gave me minutes ago and wondering if this is really my life or a sad depressing dream.
This is the last check I’ll receive since they fired me last Friday. They said they were tired of me showing up late and telling customers to “make up [their] goddamn mind” whenever they asked for my opinion about items on the menu.
My pay for two full weeks of work? Two hundred dollars and thirty one cents. No tips.
It’s the eighth job I’ve had in almost a year, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m cut out for employment at all. I lost my bagger job at the grocery store after one week, my stint as a cashier ended in a shouting match with the manager, and I didn’t last longer than an hour at the manure plant.
All I do whenever I work is incessantly dream about fictional characters, wishing I could find the time and space to write them all down. I’m always lost in some type of fantasy, some other life that’s more fulfilling than mine.
Looking up, I notice that streaks of lightning are dancing across the sky and raindrops are attacking my windshield—reminding me that I have twenty minutes to get to my latest job interview.
It’s at the Westin—the nicest hotel on this side of the South; the one place that puts Blythe, Alabama on the map. Even though I’ve been repeatedly warned about how strict their rules are and how they have a high turnover rate, I’m determined to land and keep this job.
I have to.
I’m tired of waking up every morning and seeing the same shit outside my window: Fields of grass. Cows. More fields of grass. More cows.
There’s not too much I can draw inspiration from in this desolate pit of a place, and the sooner I save enough money to return to the northern part of the country, I’ll be packing my bags and getting the hell out of here.
