chatting with everyone who came in. She was great at her job, and even though some people looked down on it, I admired her for how hard she worked. She had worked her way up to assistant manager in a little less than a year. When a few customers left, she finally noticed me.
“Jamie! How are you feeling today, hon? Any better?”
“I’m okay. Still sorting through a lot of shit in my head, but you know me. I’ll figure it out. How are you?”
“I’m pretty good. Same shit. Hey, why don’t you come out to darts with us tomorrow night? You need some fun, and we’re playing at the bar by the lake. I won’t take no for an answer.”
I hadn’t been out with her in a while, so it probably would be fun. I needed all the help I could get when it came to letting loose.
“Okay, you talked me into it. Text me tonight or tomorrow morning with the details. I’m gonna go do more work. Lots of deadlines coming up!”
“Oh to have your job, you dirty girl! Go write some really nasty stuff!”
She yelled that a little too loud, so I took that as my cue to duck out the door without a big scene. I loved my sister, but she certainly knew how to embarrass me. I didn’t need the whole town knowing that I made my money by writing sex stories! They all knew I was a freelance writer, but I didn’t make a habit of telling people about the content. It wouldn’t be good, especially since I was a substitute teacher in the local school district during the year. If those teenage boys heard about it, I would constantly get harassed.
When I got home, I grabbed the mail from my mailbox and headed inside. I left the big door open so the summer afternoon breeze could blow through my house. I noticed my flowers needed some serious water since it had been relatively dry lately, so I grabbed my watering can and headed out on the porch. I gave each of my colorful plants a nice shower, admiring them and talking to them as I walked by. I figured it never hurt anyone or anything to get a little extra love and encouragement. God knows I could use all the help I could get.
I ordered in some Chinese for dinner and poured myself a big glass of soda to go with it. I sat with my idea notebook and brainstormed about some new topics for stories. Sometimes it was hard to come up with things that I thought the readers would be into. I always kept the book of ideas to keep everything interesting. I never wanted to have a block so bad that I couldn’t do my job.
After an hour or so and plenty of new story leads, I headed back in the house. It was after 7:00, and the sun was starting to set. I realized I had never opened the mail, so I grabbed it on my way to the couch. After I found a crappy summer reality show, I sorted through it.
There were a couple of bills, so I set them aside. There was a credit card offer and a flier for a local car dealership. On the very bottom of the pile, there was a card with no return address.
Intrigued, I turned it over and ripped open the back. What I found inside was a big surprise.
The outside of the card said, “Thinking of You.” There were pretty, simple flowers all over the front. I opened it, and a piece of paper and a picture slipped out.
The picture was of me at about three months pregnant when I was just beginning to show. I looked so happy. I remembered the day Mason had taken that picture. We were getting ready to tell everyone about the baby that week. It was still our secret, and we were more in love than ever. It was the only picture that was ever taken of me when I was pregnant. She was gone a few days later, and so was he.
The tears were streaming down my face. I had never seen this picture, and it brought everything back full force. How different my life could have been if she just could have stayed.
After wiping away some of the tears so I could see again, I looked at the paper that had fallen out of the card. It was an official certificate from the National Star Registry. There was a star named
“Jamie! How are you feeling today, hon? Any better?”
“I’m okay. Still sorting through a lot of shit in my head, but you know me. I’ll figure it out. How are you?”
“I’m pretty good. Same shit. Hey, why don’t you come out to darts with us tomorrow night? You need some fun, and we’re playing at the bar by the lake. I won’t take no for an answer.”
I hadn’t been out with her in a while, so it probably would be fun. I needed all the help I could get when it came to letting loose.
“Okay, you talked me into it. Text me tonight or tomorrow morning with the details. I’m gonna go do more work. Lots of deadlines coming up!”
“Oh to have your job, you dirty girl! Go write some really nasty stuff!”
She yelled that a little too loud, so I took that as my cue to duck out the door without a big scene. I loved my sister, but she certainly knew how to embarrass me. I didn’t need the whole town knowing that I made my money by writing sex stories! They all knew I was a freelance writer, but I didn’t make a habit of telling people about the content. It wouldn’t be good, especially since I was a substitute teacher in the local school district during the year. If those teenage boys heard about it, I would constantly get harassed.
When I got home, I grabbed the mail from my mailbox and headed inside. I left the big door open so the summer afternoon breeze could blow through my house. I noticed my flowers needed some serious water since it had been relatively dry lately, so I grabbed my watering can and headed out on the porch. I gave each of my colorful plants a nice shower, admiring them and talking to them as I walked by. I figured it never hurt anyone or anything to get a little extra love and encouragement. God knows I could use all the help I could get.
I ordered in some Chinese for dinner and poured myself a big glass of soda to go with it. I sat with my idea notebook and brainstormed about some new topics for stories. Sometimes it was hard to come up with things that I thought the readers would be into. I always kept the book of ideas to keep everything interesting. I never wanted to have a block so bad that I couldn’t do my job.
After an hour or so and plenty of new story leads, I headed back in the house. It was after 7:00, and the sun was starting to set. I realized I had never opened the mail, so I grabbed it on my way to the couch. After I found a crappy summer reality show, I sorted through it.
There were a couple of bills, so I set them aside. There was a credit card offer and a flier for a local car dealership. On the very bottom of the pile, there was a card with no return address.
Intrigued, I turned it over and ripped open the back. What I found inside was a big surprise.
The outside of the card said, “Thinking of You.” There were pretty, simple flowers all over the front. I opened it, and a piece of paper and a picture slipped out.
The picture was of me at about three months pregnant when I was just beginning to show. I looked so happy. I remembered the day Mason had taken that picture. We were getting ready to tell everyone about the baby that week. It was still our secret, and we were more in love than ever. It was the only picture that was ever taken of me when I was pregnant. She was gone a few days later, and so was he.
The tears were streaming down my face. I had never seen this picture, and it brought everything back full force. How different my life could have been if she just could have stayed.
After wiping away some of the tears so I could see again, I looked at the paper that had fallen out of the card. It was an official certificate from the National Star Registry. There was a star named
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