What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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There's this pill lodged in my throat called Disbelief that I've been trying to swallow for about twenty minutes now. But don't worry I finished my burger. I sit at the table with dad on the other side, but all I can do is stare zombily at the one lone dent on an otherwise smooth oak table.
I was already on bad terms with mom, now, I never want to see her again. "Dad, I never knew you were looking for me."
"I thought for sure I'd find you with everyone in the club looking but we came up with nothing. I thought maybe through all these crazy social media outlets I'd get something but..." He pauses then straightens, continuing. "Then I got the divorce papers and the custody ones."
Looking up at dad I take a deep breath. "How could she do that? And how could she just abandon Amber alone in our front yard?"
It's dad's turn to look at the table, his eyes narrowed as if he's trying to either read what he needs to say next on an imaginary piece of paper or simply burn a whole through it.
He rubs his hand in his hair and pulls at it. "I don't know. I know why she left and it's my fault, but why would she do that to Amber? I've never been able to understand."
"Why then, dad? Why did she leave and drag me away with her? Why did she want me away from both of you?" I ask as his nervous fingers scratch his scruff that looks like it's days old.
He's not going to answer.
He looks up. "If it helps, Amber doesn't know either."
I snort. "It doesn't."
I drag my fingers through my curly mane of hair battling whether to tell him about my lack of memory. As I try to jog something out of my brain the walls start to close in on me. Every little thing my eyes touch around the kitchen begins to cause that anxiety to climb all over my skin.
That maddening linoleum flap gains my attention once again and I know what's about to happen. My body jerks up and my chair falls behind me. Dad jumps up as if he needs to catch me.
I wave him off. "No just... give me, I don't know, just don't follow me right now." I whip around to leave, but not before whispering, "please."
I grab my bag and take out my blue latex gloves. My hands hit the garage door hard and it flies open and slams shut behind me. I pray that Adonis took my art supplies out of his car. I close my eyes to count to five Mississippi and realize I'm safe. Dad's not coming and I'm alone since everyone left.
When I open them it's dark out and the night's breeze comes in from the open garage door. The lone dim light bulb sways against the gentle wind making the light move across the walls as if it's playing a game of tag with the shadows.
The fire ants are back at full force, but it's the incoming fracture in my brain that seals my suspicions. My head throbs relentlessly as black dots start at the corners of my eyes. Before my vision goes, I lock onto the empty main wall of the garage and walk over as I start to lose focus.
