Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes(8)
Screw it. I gasped at my own crassness.
“Get your own damn pies out of the oven!” I shouted over my shoulder, adding to the neighborhood entertainment. The library was only a half-mile away. It would give me time to stomp off my anger.
“Rose, you get yourself back here right now! Don't you walk away from me!”
Her words clung to the air behind me as I continued down the crumpled concrete path, neighbors staring as if I were a three-headed cow. I lifted my chin and marched. Go ahead! Get a good look! I wanted to shout, but then I decided I’d made enough of a spectacle of myself for one day. I needed to pace myself; it was barely past noon.
By the time I pushed through the library doors, my anger had cooled. The smell of books dampened the rest. The library was my refuge, the one place I could go and escape from Momma’s wrath. Every Saturday afternoon I spent several hours there, going on the Internet since we didn’t have a computer at home or reading. Today I just wanted to read.
When five o’clock rolled around, the library’s closing time, I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to go home yet. Instead, I walked several blocks to a cafe. Momma would expect me to come home and fix her something for dinner, but she wasn’t an invalid. She could make her own meal.
After ordering my food, I finally dwelled on our fight. I knew I should feel remorse. At the very least, I should feel guilty. Yet I didn’t. What I said had been a long time coming. If I had a cell phone I would call Violet with the news, but I didn’t own one. Momma said cell phones were just a way for the government to record all your calls and at the very least a waste of money. As part of my stand of newfound independence, I decided tomorrow I would go to the cell phone store and get one. Momma be damned.
That made me contrite. Three curse words in one day and a crass phrase to boot. Maybe I did have a demon.
There would be a moment of reckoning when I finally showed up, but I wasn't ready to face it yet. I knew I was acting like a petulant child putting it off, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and a sourdough starter took a week to create. I was gaining my independence after twenty-four years. I didn’t need to rush into it all at once.
After I paid the bill, I stood on the sidewalk in indecision. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. My other option was to find a pay phone and call Violet. I knew she or Mike would come and take me to their place for the night, and I found myself sorely tempted. But if I called Violet, she would be rescuing me and part of my new independence meant rescuing myself. I needed to stand on my own two feet and be a grown up. Loitering in the sweltering heat at the corner of Ivy Road and Madison Avenue, the cold, harsh reality slammed into me hard. Yes, I could blame Momma for my dependence, but I had to take some of the responsibility, too. I was a grown woman. I let her treat me that way.
I picked option three and walked to the nearby city park to stall longer. I passed between the concrete monoliths flanking the entrance, feeling prickly and a little trapped by the wrought iron fence that skirted the edge. I had to admit my vision made me a bit skittish, but I shook it off. In the vision, I was dead on Momma’s sofa and presently, I was nowhere near Momma’s sofa. Technically, it meant I was safe so I wandered to the small pond in of the middle the park. Azalea bushes surrounded the path, the blooms now faded and scattered amongst the gravel. A half dozen benches lined the trail, but walking helped my restlessness. I followed the path around the periphery, surprised there weren’t more people milling around.
The crunch under my feet soothed my growing paranoia, but the image of my vision popped into my mind again. I shook my head and tried to chase it away. I hoped it wasn’t true, but what if it was? But I couldn’t just sit around and wait for Daniel Crocker to kill me. The only course of action I could come up with at the moment was to never sit on Momma’s sofa again.
All the thoughts of my impending murder made me face the undeniable proof of my mortality. There were so many things I’d dreamed of doing. If I died, I’d never get a chance to try any of them. Violet was right. I was frittering my life away.
An epiphany burst into my mind, nearly knocking me over with the enormity of it. I would create a list, a list of things I wanted to do before I died.
I found a bench and dug through my purse, grabbing a pen and a Wal-Mart receipt. I stared at the paper. There were lots of things I wanted to do.
Number one was a decision I’d already made. Get a cell phone. I dug out a library book, placed the receipt on top and wrote my first item. Then I smiled, a smug smile full of pride. Another of the Seven Deadly Sins. How many could I commit in one day? I briefly considered adding them, but I wasn’t sure I could go through with lust. Besides, the desire to act out all the sins in a twenty-four hour period just seemed wrong. I needed to space them out more. Maybe a week. Number two: Commit all Seven Deadly Sins in one week.