Page 13 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
Seriously, was I absent from school when they taught that unit?
6b) Stop making fear-based decisions!
After Dad died and Mom fell apart, fear had consumed me. I no longer ran toward what I wanted. I ran away from what I feared. Dad was gone. There one minute and gone the next. Stroke. Anyone at any time could disappear, and I’d be left alone. I’d trailed after Mom, doing everything I could think of to keep her afloat. I couldn’t lose her, too. I think that was how Justin wormed his way into my life. He seemed solid and dependable, protective. It took me too long to realize that controlling and protective were two very different things. And solid? Dependable? Not so much.
7) A job. To get money. To buy food.
Doing what, though? I’d only ever done research work for Mom. Cleaning out her office, grading undergrad tests, returning books to the library. Hmm. I did pretty much the same for Justin, minus the research, tests and library. I ran errands, cooked, cleaned, paid bills. Did anyone in town need a personal assistant?
8) Cleaning gloves.
The mold in Gran’s fridge had been epic.
9) Traps, big and small.
Crap. I was going to have to throw out critters stuck in traps, wasn’t I? I thought longingly of the car. Maybe I really should live in the car.
10) Dog food.
11) Every cleaning and disinfecting product they sell.
12) A sleeping bag.
13) A dog bed.
14) A pillow.
15) Chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
16) Toilet paper.
17) Shampoo and conditioner.
18) Razor blades.
19) Chips. Every kind of chip.
As the list got longer, one thing became very clear. Starting completely from scratch was impossible. Oh, and ten years of having my every move and meal monitored had turned me into an irresponsible teenager given a hundred bucks for food on a weekend her parents were away. Ice cream was a perfectly acceptable dinner, right?
Once I’d completed my list, I collected my dog and headed for town. “Listen, buddy, you have to stay in the car while I shop. Don’t try to hot-wire it and leave me stranded, okay? That is not good puppy behavior.” I left Chaucer with a large rawhide stick and went in.
The pile in my cart grew quickly, becoming precarious. The contents of said cart also put me on the receiving end of some strange looks, but if they thought I was an exterminator with an eating disorder, then who was really hurt? Ten years of low-fat, high-protein, low-carb organic with a side of steamed vegetables may have made me healthy, but it definitely hadn’t made me happy. I figured it was time to give high-fat a try. One hundred million obese Americans couldn’t be wrong.
Third in line at the checkout stand meant I could do a little people watching, all in the name of acclimating to my new environs, of course.
20) Wear more plaid.
21) Get good, warm boots.
Shit. I needed clothing for snow. I’d never lived where it snowed. My cold weather gear was already at its warmth limits, and it was only October.
The cashier was working a sister-wife vibe, but if she liked long-sleeve, high-neck chambray dresses with World War II hair, who was I to comment?
Three-hundred sixty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents of traps, poisons, bleach, and junk food sat on the counter, waiting to be bagged. I felt a strange mixture of horror, embarrassment, and pure pleasure. Until sister-wife swiped my card and it was declined.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, the card isn’t going through. It says I should confiscate it.” She was gleefully apologetic.
He’d canceled my credit card, the bastard. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like I was the one who had cheated. Fidelity should be punished.
