Page 7 of Scythe's Salvation
“Thanks, Tamara.”
“You’re welcome.”
It doesn’t take me too long to get dressed, although she was correct about one thing, I was definitely a bit wobbly when I first got up. I quickly chug one bottle of water, then grab another one to take with me. Stepping into the front office, I see her textingsomeone until she hears me and my clodhopper feet coming toward her.
“Okay for me to take one for the road?” I question, raising the bottle of water in my hand. “I practically inhaled the first bottle.”
“Not a problem. Did you want to schedule another appointment?” she asks as she takes the cash I’m holding out to her. “Scythe, this is more than we discussed,” she states, trying to hand me some of the money back.
“Fuck, Tamara, I don’t care if it’s more than you told me it would be. It’s worth it to me because this is the first time in quite a while that I’m not actively hurting when I walk. Besides, I understand from Roxy you’ve got a little guy who’s playing baseball and those cleats aren’t cheap. Put it toward those if you want. And yes, I want to schedule another appointment.”
Every day, every night. I just want your hands on me.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Tamara
Scythe leavesafter we set up the next few appointments, with me reminding him what my fees are, not that I expect him to listen. While tips are nice, I never expect them, even though most of my clients are rather generous. Still, three hundred dollars of pure profit in my hands means I’ll be able to get all the things Chance still needs before they start actually playing other teams. Taking a look at my phone, I squeal and rush into the therapy room so I can change the bed, grab the other dirty sheets, shut everything down then head to what I affectionately refer to as Car Rider Hades.
And yes, it deserves to be capitalized like it’s a freaking book title or something because there’s more drama while waiting for the kids to be dismissed than between the pages of my favorite book! Missy Sue Albertson isalwaysthe first in line. Every. Single. Day. I don’t know what time she gets there; her sapphire blue minivan is sitting there. She’s obviously a stay-at-home mom, which I’m slightly jealous of, but no one I know has that kind oftime on their hands to literally be in line nearly an hour before the release bell, for heaven’s sake!
Confident that the room is reset for tomorrow’s first client, I turn off the lights, unplug the diffuser, grab the laundry sack, my purse and backpack which holds my laptop and tablet, and head out for the day. I’m tired, obviously, but there’s a sense of pride that today, my hands helped so many people continue to function in their own daily lives.
It doesn’t take long for me to get to the school and sure enough, there’s Missy Sue’s minivan in place of honor. Meanwhile, I’m barely in the lane that heads into the school’s parking lot for the pickup line, plus there are at least ten other cars behind me, as well as a line coming from the opposite direction to turn in. This is the part that’s challenging because the drivers who are waiting to turn left get impatient since we don’t have a crossing guard to stop our traffic and wave them in. There’ve been a few minor fender benders over the years, that’s for sure.
I hear the bell, hell, the nextcountylikely hears it as loud as it is, and soon the kids are coming out by grade, along with teachers and their paraprofessionals to assist the children into the cars and make sure none of them try to dash across the parking lot. That’s happened a few times as well, and thankfully, no one was hurt. Ensuring that Chance’s laminated paper with his name and grade on it is on my dashboard, I mentally think about the rest of our day.
Soon enough, I hear, “Hey, Tamara, he had a good day today,” as the rear door opens and my vivacious little boy hops inside. His teacher helps him get seat belted in since he’s still in a booster seat, then she closes the door and says, “Y’all have a great evening. See you tomorrow, Chance!”
“Bye, Miss Adams,” he yells as I pull away. “I really like her, Mommy. She makes learning new things a lot of fun. I can’t wait to tell Memaw what I learned today about chickens.”
I’m so glad he can’t see me because I’m biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud while simultaneously rolling my eyes. “So, what did you learn?”
“Chickens live in coops!” he exclaims. “But some of them don’t, they live in warehouses. What’s a warehouse, Mommy?”
Internally I sigh, because chickens that are warehoused are the ones that are later slaughtered for our food. It’s going to bother my tenderhearted boy to learn that his chicken nuggets that he loves so much come from living chickens. Still, this is one of those tough things a mom’s gotta do, I suppose.
“Did you learn that chickens are where we get our eggs from?” I ask, glancing in the rearview mirror to watch him.
“Yes, Billy says that chickens poop and give us eggs, but Miss Adams told him that wasn’t accurate,” he replies.
“Well, some chickens lay eggs, while other chickens are used for meat, buddy,” I tell him. I pray he doesn’t decide to become a vegan because Mommy’s thighs weren’t built on salads alone, that’s for damn sure. There’s a lot of chicken enchiladas, chicken parmesan, and chicken chili that created those masterpieces.
“Do you mean…Mommy,” he screeches, a horrified look on his little face. “Peoplekillthe chickens so they can eat them?”
“Where did you think your chicken nuggets came from?” I question.
“The grocery store!” He’s indignant now, as if I withheld a major conspiracy from him or something. “Next, you’ll be telling me that hamburgers come from an animal too!”
Well, hell, this discussion took a turn I wasnotexpecting. Deciding that Amara needs to get involved, since he spends a lot of time with her and her family which helps me out more than they realize, I hit the button on my steering wheel and say, “Call Amara.”
The phone rings a few times then I hear, “Is His Royal Majesty, Chance Fruge, the best fisherman in the world, in the car?”
“Auntie Amara! Mommy just told me something that’s awful. Did you know that chickens arekilled?”
“Tamara, what the hel-heck did you suck me into this time?” she questions. “Yeah, buddy, I knew that, where did you think your chicken nuggets came from?”
