by Amos Gunner
CHAPTER 26: BRENDA
Do I really need to? I already gave the other guy the highlights: the ransom, the apartment. Do you really need every grimy detail?
Fine. I’ll tell you everything I remember about yesterday if that’s what you want. Sure. I have no reason to lie to you. I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t charge me with anything.
Can I smoke in here? Seriously? But they always smoke in movies.
Okay. Yesterday. I woke up smiling. Adam and I had passed though a dark time and isn’t the view more beautiful after a storm passes? I don’t care if that’s a cliché. When IA cleared him, he came alive and we turned a page. I don’t care if that’s another cliché. It’ too painful to talk without the buffer of clichés. We were happy and it ended. Does that make it a happy story or tragic? I don’t know. If I had any idea what was in store...but I didn’t. So I woke up smiling. And alone. Adam was helping out with my dad’s construction company. As far as I knew, that’s where he was.
No, I’m fine. As fine as could be expected.
The bathroom mirror told me I was pretty. That wasn’t vanity. The mirror is rarely kind to me. I abused my body for a few years and I still wear a few marks to prove it. But in front of the mirror I gave off a healthy glow that was like a triumph. Beauty after the storm, right?
While the coffee brewed I contemplated the orchid Adam had given me the day before. It’s young. Just two delicate buds clinging to a stem. Doesn’t look like much but it will and it made me happy. He knew it would. That’s why he gave it. He knew me better than anyone. Almost better than I know myself.
I was scheduled to work yesterday, and I thought how great it was going to be to spend the day in the flower shop sheltering this fragile emotion I had for Adam until we were together again.
I had my coffee on the backyard patio. It was chilly but not uncomfortable. Birds traveling south serenaded me. Nice of them.
And the kids. I used to hate the noise of kids playing. They scream a lot, don’t they? Even when they’re happy. I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard. A small gang was tearing up someone’s yard. I couldn’t tell whose. But for some magical reason, yesterday morning, I swear their shouts were like songs from little angels. I wondered why they weren’t in school, and I assumed--
Look goddammit. You asked me what I remember about yesterday and I’m telling you. Later on you can decide what’s important to you and what isn’t, but it’s all important to me so I’m going to tell it.