Page 7 of Remnants

Kaitlin

FIVE

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I clench my towel that’s wrapped securely around my freshly showered body.

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, lost in thought.

Since I’m beginning to chill and my hair has gone from wet to damp, I would assume nearly an hour.

Me zoning out has been happening a lot the last three days.

I start something and just… space. And when I come to, I find that I’m thinking about that kiss I shared with Nora.

I don’t know what overcame me. All I know is when her lips met mine, it was over.

There was no way I could be friends with benefits, no strings attached.

When our lips touched and I felt her soft tongue touch caress, all of my strings attached to her in that instance.

I want her, I want to kiss her more, I want to lick her, touch her, make her pant and god, I want her to make me cum.

I broke the kiss and ran out of the house, leaving her yelling for me.

She has come over here a couple of times now.

Fuck, I wish I hadn’t given her my phone number at the tattoo shop because she’s been texting me.

I’ve been leaving her messages unanswered.

I have no idea what to say. Regardless of how unhappy or unhealthy my relationship with James is, I am a married woman.

And in a stupid moment of weakness, I slipped.

It’s disgusting, dishonorable to my husband, to my family… to my God.

At that disturbing thought, I stand up before walking to my closest to pick out my clothes.

I need to go to a church service. It’s not something I do often…

hardly ever, actually. The church isn’t a safe place or a form of comfort for me.

But I’m slipping. All of that time spent in those classes and camps will be for nothing if I don’t get back on the right path.

And an afternoon in the church with my mother is the perfect way to get me back on track, despite how I feel in my heart.

Which is why I called her and she’s on her way here now.

I shimmy into my shapewear before slipping into my vintage-style swing dress.

Green with pale gold plaid stripes and a side bowtie.

The dress is modest, going all the way up my neck and has a three quarter length sleeve.

I walk in front of the mirror and as I look at my hair, I let out a groan.

Most would be shocked to realize that my bright blonde, poker straight hair is actually naturally curly.

James hates my curls, and refers to them as “lazy”, so I have to straighten the curls out and then slick my hair back into a bun.

But, due to my zoning out, I don’t have time to straighten it before my mother arrives.

I quickly grab some hair pins and start trying to tame the madness before grabbing my wedding rings and purse and running downstairs.

I get to the door just as my mother is coming up the steps.

She stops and looks at me, nodding her head in approval.

“Glad to see James still makes sure you’re dressing respectfully,” she says as we head towards her car.

My mother is a small woman; petite and rail-thin.

She is a devout Christian, firm believer in modesty, and is anti-sex, homosexuals, cursing, and just about anything that doesn’t revolve around First Southern Baptist down off of Anderson Park.

I watch as her hunched back bends over further while she slides into the driver’s side of her white sedan.

I look from her, to across the street, my eyes locking with Nora, and my heart stops for a moment.

She looks like she’s about to come my way, but thinks better of it.

She gives me the smallest of waves before turning and going inside, not seeing the wave I give her in response.

I get into my mother’s car and buckle my seatbelt. I hear my mother tsk and I give her a wary look. “What?” I ask, feeling like she read the impure thoughts that just passed through my head.

“Dress is a little short,” she mumbles, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Mother, it goes to my mid-calf.” She doesn’t answer and we sit in silence for several moments before coming to a stoplight. My mother looks over at me, her cold eyes full of judgment.

“Why did you call me to take you to Wednesday service, Kaitlin? You haven’t been to church since you were married.

” I fidget with my hands nervously as I look toward her.

Realization washes over her face and her skin pales.

“No,” she whispers as the light turns green and she starts to move.

“Kaitlin, not again.” Her voice comes out like a sob.

“No, Mother!” Shit, I have to lie to her. She will tell everyone, including James, because she would want me to go get help again, and if he somehow finds out about Nora—no… I have to protect her from him.

“Mother, James and I are having… difficulty having a baby. James is about to the point where he’s ready to try a specialist. But, I wanted to try…

prayer.” I feel disgusting saying this. As if I could ever bring a child into this mess with James.

No, I’ve made damn sure he will never reproduce with me.

As we pull into the parking space, my mother shuts off her engine before letting out a breath.

“While I think going to church just when you need something is selfish, at least you are going for a good selfish reason, because while I love James dearly, going the route of a specialist is just… it’s against God’s will. ”

Right. Because the seatbelt she’s wearing or the heart medication in her purse is any different?

It breaks my heart how much I dislike my mother—my entire family, actually.

I remember when I first got married, me and my then friend, Becky, had a small cupcake business that was set up at farmer’s markets.

She and her husband tried, even with IVF, for years to have a baby.

It was soul-crushing to watch her get so hopeful, only to get let down.

Finally, the IVF worked though and they had a healthy baby boy that they treat like a little prince.

If their happiness and that little boy was “against God’s will”, then I am not sure I want to believe in his will.

“You may also be having problems due to your past.” I let out a long sigh. Here we go.

“How so, Mother? Is God punishing me for my lesbianism?”

“SHHH!” she says loudly, as if someone will hear us in her car. “Kaitlin! Do not use such filthy language! All I am saying is, maybe you still haven’t been fully absolved.”

“I went to the camp, the groups, the meetings, the punishments. I left all of that behind me, and I married a man. That isn’t enough?” My mother’s thin lips press tighter together as her blue eyes burn into me.

“Only God can decide when you are completely absolved. What you did…” She shakes her head as she gets out of the car, muttering words like impure, tragic, unforgivable . I sigh to myself before getting out of the car and following her into the church.

I sit on my front step as I watch the sun creeping down behind the homes.

My previous excitement of James being sweeter to me due to the accident is gone.

He called me while I was in the church service and I had turned my phone on silent, consequently missing every one of his nineteen phone calls.

When I got out and called him, he was so irate and said such horrible things to me, all I could do was pray he would decide to add another week to his trip in the hopes that he would have cooled down by the time he came back.

I dig my nail under the label on the wine cooler I have been nursing when the booming and frantic barking of Sam jerks me out of my depressive thoughts. I look across the street and see Sam’s dark shadow in the open window. He’s barking and running away before coming back and barking at me again.

I furrow my brows as I stand up, deciding to jog across the street and walk to Nora’s door.

I knock, but get nothing but Sam’s constant barking.

I try to open the door. It’s unlocked but something is in front of it, making it impossible for me to budge it open.

I walk over to the window Sam is barking through and peer inside.

There’s a dresser that has been shoved against the door. What on earth?

“Nora?” I yell through the window. I peer through the screen at Sam whining and looking down the hall then back at me.

“Okay, bud.” I sigh as I look at the window frame.

“I’m coming.” I push on the frame of the edge several times until the latches break and the screen falls into my hands.

Hopefully Nora won’t be too mad. I thank God that I have changed out of my church clothes and into my black leggings and red sweatshirt as I heave myself through the window, landing with an “oof” on her loveseat.

Sam runs over to me, snorting and nudging me with his nose before running back to the hall.

My heart pounds as I follow him through the house until I come to a bedroom, and in the doorway lay Nora’s crumpled body.

“Nora!” I run over and kneel beside her head.

She’s unconscious but breathing. I look around the area; she doesn’t have her prosthetic on, but I see her crutch laying off to the side.

I reach in my pocket and go to call 911 but something tells me not to, so instead, I scroll through my contacts until I find Black Widow Ink.

After a couple rings a young male voice comes over the phone.

“Black Widow Ink, this is Jamie,” the voice says.

“Jamie, my name is Kaitlin. I need to speak to Mac immediately.”

“Oh, sorry. Mac is with—”

“I don’t care who he’s fucking with!” I yell as I place Nora’s head in my lap. She lets out a whimper as I run my hand over her cheek.

“It’s about his sister. Get him. Now,” I growl. There’s silence before I hear rustling on the other end.

“Katie.” Mac’s voice is deep and serious in a way that sends chills over me. “What happened?”