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“What do you mean?”
“Ask Prez and Magic,” Toga says with a smirk.
“I don’t know what you’re pissed about,” Magic snaps. “It’s not like he’s gonna need it in Hell.”
I dart my eyes from Magic to Snow. “Someone wanna tell me what’s going on?”
Snow reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bandana. When he unwraps it, I throw my head back and laugh because right in the middle of the fabric is a severed penis.
“Need to find somewhere to dump this,” Snow says casually.
And this is why I love my life, distracting old ladies aside. Things might not always go to plan, but there’s never a dull moment.
Never.
Chapter2
Kennedy
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Unwanted guilt floods my system as I return yet another hug from someone whose false sincerity grates on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. I remind myself that I have nothing to feel guilty about. My marriage was forced upon me, as was a life I never wanted.
My parents, Michael, and the church are the guilty parties.
“Thank you,” I murmur, delicately dabbing at the corner of my eye to wipe a tear away.
My tears aren’t for the reason most think. I should be a grieving widow, a woman heartbroken at the loss of her husband after a short battle with lung cancer. But I’m not that woman. I’m not sad in the least. My tears are born out of a happiness so great, I know no other way to express it.
I’m finally free.
“Michael was a good man,” the woman says. “We’ll miss him at church.”
‘Fuck the church’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I wisely hold it in. I’ve managed to survive the last ten years, and I can get through the rest of today. Once Michael is six feet under, I can let all my rage and hatred loose.
The viewing seems to last forever, but when I’m quietly escorted to my seat in the front pew, I know I’m close. I’m so damn close to an end I thought would never come.
As the pastor drones on, extolling on Michael’s virtues, I let my mind wander. After the service at the church, there’s a celebration of life at the country club. Once that is over, life as I’ve known it is too. And I’m beyond excited at the prospect.
Excited and scared as hell.
Over the years, I’ve managed to squirrel away money from the meager allowance Michael provided me. It seems he was willing to pay for my college degree, but when it came time to put it to use and get a job, he drew the line. I wasn’t permitted to earn my own money because he was too afraid I’d use it for nefarious purposes… like leaving his ass.
He was right to be afraid. But it didn’t matter.
I once had a group project in one of my college courses, and when Michael found out one of the group members was a guy, he made a call to my professor and a donation to the school, and before I knew it, I’d been excused from the assignment with an A.
Now I’m twenty-nine with a degree in nursing that came in handy with Michael’s illness but that I have no desire to ever use again, a house I can’t stand, and no idea what’s next.
Going through the motions as I’ve been essentially trained to do, I make it through the rest of the day relatively unscathed. Sure, I make promises I know I won’t keep, to stay in touch with people I can stand, and I lie to my parents about what my plans are now that I’m ‘all alone in this sinful world’, but I survive.
When I leave the country club, I point my BMW in the direction of home. It’s not lost on me that all thefriendswho went on and on about being there for me, supporting me in my ‘time of need’ are nowhere in sight. None of them offered to follow me home to make sure I’m okay. None of them will drop off food throughout the week or call to check in because they care.
Because none of them give a damn about you.
After pulling into the four-car garage, I put the Beamer in park and simply sit. For all my musings about hating my life and my late husband, I suddenly feel… sad. I didn’t expect the emotion, but I suppose it makes sense.
The life I’ve known is over. At least with Michael, I knew what to expect. My every move was controlled, planned for me. Even when he first got sick, he hired an assistant who became the coordinator of my days.
