Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Mom,” I said as I leaned forward and settled my hand on the stack of bills I’d been sorting through all morning. “We need to talk about this.”
“Groceries, Nolan,” she commanded, her voice stern and unwavering. “I’m making a roast for your father tonight. Don’t want it to spoil.”
Frustration consumed me as I studied her. I wanted to tell her the goddamn groceries could wait the few minutes it took for my entire future to go up in flames, but I quelled the instinct and climbed to my feet. She was heading to the living room, and just before I reached the door, I heard her greet my father brightly and tell him she was making his favorite dinner tonight. I went to the car and got the bags and returned to the house. My mind was racing with any possible alternatives I could come up with to deal with the situation at hand, but there was nothing.
Not one goddamned thing.
As my mother puttered around the kitchen, unloading the groceries and getting the ever-so-important perfect roast going, I stared at the computer and willed the numbers to change…anything to make them smaller. It was a good twenty minutes before she put the roast in the oven and had wiped down all the counters. It was only after she removed her apron and hung it on the hook next to the refrigerator that she turned her attention to me. “Now, what is it?” she asked. “I’ve promised Edith I’d help her get ready for the church bake sale this weekend. I’ll need you to watch your father tonight.”
“Did you know you’re behind on the mortgage by four months?” I asked. “The credit cards and home equity loan, too?”
My mother sighed and eased herself into the chair on the other side of the table. She waved her hand impatiently. “Your father handles all that. If that’s true, I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”
“I can’t really ask him what that reason is, can I?” I asked.
“You watch your tone with me, young man,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “It may be okay to speak to your elders that way in Hollywood-”
“You’re going to lose the house,” I cut in, my frustration getting the better of me. I lifted up the stack of bills. “Electricity, phone, cable…all that shit’s gone in less than a month.”
“Nolan, language!”
I ignored her and leaned forward. “There’s nothing left. Do you understand me? Your savings, retirement – it’s all gone.”
“Your father knows what he’s doing…”
“My father can’t string two words together right now,” I responded as I dropped the bills to the table and pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the pounding in my head. “You can’t sell the house because you owe more than it’s worth. And neither car is worth anything.”
“Well, then, we’ll go to the bank and talk to Mr. Wilson…explain the situation to him. He’ll understand,” my mother said with a smile.
“It doesn’t work like that anymore, Mom,” I said tiredly, but she’d already risen to her feet and dismissed me.
“I need to go change. I promised Edith-”
“To help her with the bake sale, I know.”
She shook her head at me and I didn’t need to hear the words to know what she was thinking.
As she left the kitchen, I stared at the computer again. Even if I paid all the overdue bills, there wouldn’t be enough money left to pay off the credit cards. And there sure as hell wouldn’t be enough to get me out of Pelican Bay anytime soon.
How the hell had I thought this would be easy?
Had I really told myself it would take a week or two at most to help my mom get my dad back on his feet and then I’d head to anywhere that wasn’t Pelican Bay?
A dark thought entered my mind and admittedly, it was hard to shake. It would be so easy just to get up and walk out that door. To pretend I’d never gotten the call from my mother telling me I had a duty to come home and help her take care of my father.
But as quickly as the thought entered my mind, I pushed it away, because as strained as the relationship was with my parents, they were still just that. My parents. They might not have been the most emotionally giving people in the world when I’d been growing up, but they’d kept me clothed and fed. There was no rule that said you had to love your kids too.
I’d give as good as I’d gotten. Maybe they didn’t deserve it, but I knew myself well enough to know that if I wanted to start my own life fresh, I’d have to deal with this first. Only then could I put Pelican Bay and everything that had happened in the ten years since I’d left behind me and start anew.