Page 11 of Coerced
My mom had cancer, we’d been on the verge of losing our home, and the store that had sustained my family’slifestyle since before I was even born was failing. So, I focused my attention on where it needed to be.
And it worked.
For a long while, the success of my artwork had allowed us to keep our heads afloat. We were able to maintain some semblance of our lives before Mom’s diagnosis, but we weren’t filthy rich, not by any means.
There was a mountain of medical debt to dig out of on top of the months of missed mortgage payments to get caught up on. That took time, and for a long while, we had just enough left over after each of those first few art purchases to put food on the table and the keep the lights on.
Over time, it improved.
Just like my mom’s health. Before I knew it, Mom’s cancer was in remission. It had been a long and hard-fought battle, but she’d done it. We were all so proud of her.
Once we’d gotten that news, it seemed we were all able to breathe just a little bit easier. Of course, while I felt the relief just as much as anyone else in the family when it came to my mom’s health, I didn’t feel it when it came to anything else.
My parents and my sister continued to push me to paint. The store had never recovered from its downturn years ago, but my father kept it open. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to let it go. And with the success of my art, there didn’t seem to be a sense of urgency to try to improve that situation.
Since I loved what I was doing so much, I didn’t necessarily mind that my family needed me to continue to paint. I did what I had to do to be able to provide for them.Fortunately, I wasn’t doingeverythingon my own. Even though my dad’s store couldn’t support the family—or even just him and Mom—any longer, he did step up to assist me with the art. He handled the logistics of it—he’d essentially become like a manager of my work—and the only real worry I had was the part of it I enjoyed, which was painting.
Plus, once Mom was in the clear, we’d been able to start redirecting funds away from medical bills and start putting them toward other things.
Jazzy was back in school, working to finish up her degree. I was finally able to get myself a used car again and had moved into my own apartment. I’d even gotten myself a cat. Though I’d reached the point where I wanted to be out on my own, I didn’t like feeling as though I was completely alone.
Sasha filled that void. She made life interesting, and I found myself laughing more often. As I stood in the kitchen now, finishing my cup of tea, I could tell she was unhappy with me.
“I’m sorry, Sasha, but I have to run out this morning,” I said.
She meowed her irritated response.
“Look, I know you hate it, but I if I don’t go, you won’t have anything to eat after today,” I explained. “I promise to make it a quick trip. I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”
The thing about my cat was that she enjoyed having me around. She wasn’t particularly needy, but she also wasn’t interested in being left alone all day, either. Sasha enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed hers. And sadly, since she hated going in the car, regardless of the destination,bringing her along for the ride just wasn’t ideal. We’d both wind up being more stressed than if I’d just gone out on my own this morning like I intended and came back as quickly as I could.
When Sasha offered no reply that she understood the severity of her food situation, I promised, “I’ll pick up some extra treats.”
She wound her way through my legs and around my ankles, meowing relentlessly. This had become her thing whenever she had something important to say. In this case, I took it to be more evidence of her displeasure.
But once I crouched down and stroked my hand over the length of her body several times, she seemed to lose the attitude and leaned in for extra cuddles. Eventually, Sasha took a few steps in the opposite direction, an indication I was free to leave.
It wasn’t all that I would have hoped for, but it was the best I could expect from her.
“I’ll be back soon with cat food and treats,” I told her. “And to be sure we don’t get interrupted later today, I’ll drop the paintings off at the store this morning.”
Sasha stopped in her tracks, looked up at me with her adorable face, and meowed again.
Okay, so perhaps I shouldn’t have shared that tidbit of information with her. Clearly, she knew I wasn’t coming back as quickly as I had originally led her to believe.
Deciding it was best not to exacerbate the problem by sharing anything more and realizing I’d likely have to beg for forgiveness when I returned, I’d grabbed my purse, keys, and paintings before scurrying out the front door.
I ran to the grocery store first, but I didn’t waste any time. Sasha’s food and treats were the priority, and Ipicked up a few essentials for myself once I had her things safely in my cart. I spent no more than twenty-five minutes in the store and was back in my car on the way to drop off the paintings to my dad.
Typically, my dad stopped over at my place to pick up the paintings. The way he saw it, I was the one who’d made it possible for our family to survive and live comfortably for the last three years, so he was willing to do what he could to make my life easier. It was only ever in very rare instances when I needed to take the paintings to him, and in those cases, I usually stopped by the house to drop them off. I figured I could visit with both of my parents and deliver the paintings at the same time.
It had been months since I’d been in the store, and the moment I walked through the front door, a wave of gratitude had washed over me. The store looked nothing like I remembered it looking years ago. We used to have the shelves stocked, and customers were walking up and down the aisles.
Now, only a few items remained in substantial quantities, but even if they all sold today, the profits would be negligible.
The likelihood of that happening was slim. Because unlike things had been years ago, the aisles weren’t lined with patrons. There wasn’t a single customer in the store.
In fact, nobody was in the front part of the store. I could only assume my dad had gone into the back room for something, so I made my way in that direction. And as I did, I realized he wasn’t the only one in the store. There was a conversation being held between at least two people, my father being one of them, and I was instantly aware something wasn’t right.