My name is Virgie Barron. He went away a few days on a business trip.”. 06/17/2017, The day was ours Tall, formidable figure with lovely pale skin and dark hair. My resentment grew. Meatloaf, in his entire life, has never obeyed a command other than “Come get your dinner.” He stares at me, drooling, the horrible thing hanging from his mouth. But we both know. I borrowed you, Your baby arms The wanted to change me, convert me, make me see how great it could be the other way. She sits up straighter and focuses on making her body into a line toward the sky. Folie a Deux she thinks its called. We have a small little-used brick courtyard off this side of the house and a gecko has taken up residence between the cushions of the patio furniture. I watch two well-dressed older men with laptop computers lean towards each other across a small table. “Sort of. I heard this terrible crack in his voice. It was actually a true rumor but irrelevant. Because she looks at me. I’m a very very good listener and I got even better working at the station. I was in the habit of eavesdropping whenever possible so I shutoff the vacuum and picked up rag and began wiping the seats down. To most readers this is likely to be a disturbing story not because of it’s strangeness, although it is certainly strange, but because of it’s tragic familiarity. Ultimately she must peel back the layers of her own consciousness, face her memories, and delve deeper into painful questions about her sister, and finally herself. Not because I don’t like it but because of the memories. He would be whining soon. “No way. She has four kids. Allen’s call last night came on Monday. She wonders where the color goes when they turn 25. Things are different for both of us. I don’t set alarms to wake myself up. The same thing I told myself yesterday. It’s a vicious, destructive, malignant conspiracy bent on terrifying middle-aged women into spending more than they can possibly afford. Then she spots the graduates coming together in small clusters, just beyond the gates. Empty has potential. Then the camera fires, the smile fades and like wind through tall grass Sandra sees the child go too. Nobody would have believed that, I think. She’d been dead maybe three days. Dean and Sandra make their way back to the Lexus together without the kids. “Sorry baby,” I say and collect up my coffee mug and put it in the sink. “Valerie?” He said. The second time I get arrested, she’s with me. It’s a minute later and they are pulling into the parking lot. That makes me smile. They could prevent it the next time, or at least reduce the risk. I stare at the computer screen. She thinks maybe it’s true. Only Sandra is pretty sure he is not resting since this would be a bad time to do that. He’s never told her how old but she guesses he’s over fifty. She pulls her finger out of the hole and reaches up to the sun visor, which she pulls down with a loud, snap. They do so and then throw their caps in the air with a cheer. on EDEN: A Novel on Kindle Countdown Deal Now! Celebrate Black History Month with some of the most iconic figures in Hollywood. We are all their mothers, she wants to say, all in this together, dying together. Maybe three months ago. I heard she’s a piece a work.”, “Ahh not anymore, what’s it been? Suddenly, the crowd is so thick she can barely move through. She feels like a deflated Mylar balloon left trampled on the street three days after Mardi Gras. We were young I get hangovers. In any event, the whole system made it easy for me to follow along, as I am sure thousands or hundreds of thousands of civilians do every day. She watches Deirdre stride off stage, all angles and thick skin, all grown up devil again. She would need an apron to hide it now. On a hot, muggy afternoon, in Eden, a tiny, rural town deep in southeast Louisiana, Construction workers make a hideous discovery. Stop it. “She caught her foot.” The dark, petulant beauty of this petite American film and musical star worked to her advantage, especially in her early dramatic career. This week almost every day. Perhaps, she thinks, he was killed by something in the bowl besides the water. I rub at my hands, which always ache a bit this time of day, close them into fists and squeeze at the knuckles of my right hand. I’ve had a few more than necessary and I start dancing with some dude like sixty. Jenny Connor (also Bradley) is a fictional character from the British ITV soap opera, Coronation Street, played by Sally Ann Matthews.She made her first appearance on-screen on 6 January 1986. It makes her more dangerous than plutonium, Ebola and HIV all stuck together. They’re not like dogs. “On the way over. He wasn’t the one who gave birth to a dead baby. I think randomly. Cujo. My beautiful friend. She tilts her head, screws up her face and thinks with some alarm. Innocuous Juxtapositions Outside of Time and Space by flamethrower Fandom: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Teen And Up Audiences, Mature; Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings So many workers in her dorm have been sick recently and missing work means not being paid. Fuck, she thinks. Since our kids were small, in school together. The bloody skirt with self inflicted damage fully exposed, her mouth hanging open, and her arms, still above her head, continuing to move in the slow, haunted way the limbs of a. dead animal, run over on the highway might move even after it’s skull has been crushed. I wonder how old it might be? Your pale eyes She’s avoiding the hordes of family members and guests pressing themselves onto the main walkways. I pull two ripe fruits from the sink and pile the plump green ones with stems still attached, into a big blue bowl and set them by the window. She applies pale pink lip gloss and two squirts of lightly floral scented perfume. “Meatloaf! The other girls all have to stay together in two rooms with three or four to a bed. Eric is excited and runs off to find Deirdre. I don’t tell him about the call from X’s brother but for a long time I sit quietly, sip my tea and think about it. She doesn’t know anyone. She supposes she now looks as if she is about to eat the tube of Channel Red. Kids. The day is brilliant. Wake up you stupid motherfucker. Has one of those faces, so deeply creviced, his eyes nearly disappear when he smiles. I slam shut the computer and stand up. “Major transport this morning out of Chowchilla, you heard it?”, “Yeah, I heard the chatter, four van convoy, crazy coming over the eighty.”, “I hear it is. They are separated, Talia disappearing into a life of drugs and petty crime, Rachel fleeing to New Orleans. Yes, she is sure he is dead. The discovery of the body sets in motion a series of events leading inevitably to the uncovering of secrets dating back multiple generations; terrible events that may involve the entire town of Eden. She’s thinking about that pencil line being so hard to make out with all that whiteness around that it’s almost like it was never even there at all. or down. How is that better? and follows Dean, already eight paces ahead, toward their seats. I shook my head into the phone as if he could see me. It has been thirty years since Evelyn Yates’s sister disappeared mysteriously from their home in rural Eden, Louisiana, and twenty since Evelyn fled to escape the demons of her past. It is so clear, it looks perfectly empty which is exactly how she feels inside. Sandra says, “you know why you are here,” and then she adds something incredibly boring and stupid that she can’t remember as soon as she says it like, “you are part of this family and we expect you to participate,” or, ‘‘you need to learn to do things as part of a family even when you don’t want to do them,’’ or ‘‘because it’s important.’’ She knows the boy who owns the tinny voice doesn’t listen. A deep red crease runs horizontally across the middle of her palm but it does not break the skin. No longing for the baby that once was, no overwhelming sense of joy and accomplishment either. Do you remember me?”, “Sure, yes I do,” I’d told him although at first, I wasn’t so sure I did. And also drinking. I always bring extra for just such a task, figuring this is the least I can do. It sends chemicals oozing all around the secret cavities inside her abdomen and chest. He’s been gone a lot like this since the thing happened last fall. The act causes Deirdre, her marching partner, several parents and other graduates to gape in her direction and Sandra immediately regrets what she has done. I know. She sticks with natural causes and it works. All the way to school, my baby boy talks to me about child things and grown-up things and sweet teenage things. I know the rest. Part of her thinks the photos (everyone smiling and hugging) make no sense anyway. That was long ago. It was like three sterophonic concerts playing in brain all at the same time. Drop it.” He suddenly bounds forward-a thing I have rarely seen him do-and drops the THING in my lap. My son is waiting in the car and I am still not ready to go. She’s not sure what shape she has but its’ not oval. Away with you, Now you’ve grown In his mouth, something soggy. Everyone always says how blue they are. My stockings are torn at the toes. It’s fucking pathetic.”. I work for two hours. There’s this guy we know in L.A. I don’t want to be dead right now. She’s surprised by it. “Ahh that’s sweet. She should stop. Actually Meg, Sandra wants to say, after your douchebag son fucked her up, all she wants to do is smoke weed every day and sit in her room so I dunno. I finally locate the appropriate equipment, leash the dogs, and head outside. Don’t I remember? Some wanted three-ways. At least the cardboard won’t sit in milk for ten minutes while he pushes his hair around on top of his head. Her eyes jerk back to the stage in time to see Deirdre flash a smile for the photographer and, for a second, Sandra is lost in the atmosphere. Her brother called me last night. We walk along a while, the dogs zigging and zagging across the path. Gone, I think. Sandra turns around to look behind her. She wonders if she can hike the skirt up high enough to hide the hole under her jacket without exposing the cellulite on the back of her thighs. “So, I was thinking,” he says. I often start writing by checking my email and surfing the web for a few hours. We juggle our coffees and oversized, overpriced, bags until an undersized table opens up. “They found her up there. Although I was officially hired as assistant to the Chief, my real role was lackey to everyone, including the janitor. The land it fails to protect is private, but nobody has ever shooed me off its gorgeous trails or told me I couldn’t let Killer and Meatloaf happily pee among the eucalypti bushes and jasmine. She sits down in the chair and realizes her feet hurt. Only one at a time of course because they kill each other if forced to live together (a marriage metaphor Sandra thinks.) She moves over to the fence where her view is better. She corrects course. “Some idiot …kind of animal trap. Or maybe I could be a goldfish and somebody’s mom would put me in a bowl and kill me. She will be deep in a feverish sleep while it waits with a thousand others almost exactly like it. She decides she will wait here and wave at Deirdre as she passes and then move quickly in order to make it back to her seat before the welcome speeches begin. I turn up the radio. Just waits for us. He does not smile. I am none of those things. Doing inspections on an assembly line for an American company. “Right?” he asked. She walks back toward Dean, formulating a plan. Whatever they told me to do I did it. See the giveaway details at Goodreads. He doesn’t respond. She’s not sure though, I’d better get moving.” Sandra is feeling like her head might explode. He didn’t understand. At least it is like she imagines that would be. “Terrific Max, thank you.” Weird story though. By the time I come downstairs my husband has left for the day. Then I got a picture in my head. She’s a killer. Rips running up my shins, like scars. and she says so I’ve been kind of talking to this boy but don’t get all excited because it’s totally not like that and I can see by the way even her teeth are twinkling that it totally is like that. I keep a small calendar in the drawer to my right and in it is marked the deadline for each assignment. Yes, his lyrics are predominantly about his experiences of life in the midwest, but what he depicts is the human experience and that, is something to which we can all relate. I can see into the backyard. He’d take my hand and lead me enthusiastically around the room, pointing out the various features, excitedly reciting the pros and cons of different models while I feigned interest. He’s new, but he has driven her at least once before. WHAT WOULD IT TAKE FOR YOU TO SACRIFICE EVERYTHING? I shoved my phone into the mail drawer in the kitchen. Try to stop. It’s classic country music. She thinks, well fuck, this is a holy mess and then thinks she’s pretty clever for the pun. In the shed, I find my tools and thick purple gardening gloves. He gets sick and dies. Giveaway begins June 21, 2020. Dashboard light on the skin stretching over her clavicles. Check it out at Amazon now! We will sit together at the table and I will tell him all about the things our daughter said today including the boy who totally is not like that, and he will smile. Song lyrics…”City lights lay out before us…”. The garden is a hilly patch planted thickly with fruit trees and flowering plants. Sandra sticks a fingernail, polished pale blue, through the tiny hole she’s managed to work into the wool of her skirt. Blonde stereotypes are stereotypes of blond-haired women.Sub-types of this stereotype include the "blonde bombshell" and the "dumb blonde".Blondes are stereotyped as more desirable and less intelligent than brunettes.There are many blonde jokes made on these premises. Close your eyes.” I don’t. Parents. He quickly un-tucks the shirt and rolls up his sleeves. That first circle of hell Dante called limbo. This one fish lives a long time and gets fat. So goddamn fast. Once I said it, I realized it was not something I needed or wanted to know at all. Well past midnight. Snap. Not because she was sober-she wasn’t-but because she’s a better drunk driver. There is a slight rise to her underwear on the left and she wonders how severe the discomfort will get before the morning is finished. All the way to school, my baby boy talks to me about child things and grown-up things and sweet teenage things. I’m robed, in bed. Banging my fingers on the steering wheel; mouthing curse words to myself, secretly hoping the driver in front of me will see them and be offended. I click the phone closed, suddenly nauseous. The underwear lodging in her ass is becoming intolerable. “Shattered.”. Before I pull out, I look over at him. It’s familiar. Sandra doesn’t know what that means. This particular alarm, which I’ve set to something called “circles” although it sounds more like “shopping mall doorbell” is supposed to remind me to get into the shower. We turn right at the end of the block and head through an opening in the chicken wire fence allowing us access to a trail. He spends hours, days even, reading Consumer Reports and whatever else people read when they want to know about things like dishwashers.
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