Page 16 of Rage's Solace
Next, I take a turn getting my nails done. Since my nails are long, they just need shaped and painted. The nail tech is finished in about fifteen minutes. Next is a small counter with a famous brand of makeup for sale. Francesca’s skills really shine when it comes to customizing a color palette. By the time she’s finished, I look better than I have in years, and she gathers my products and puts them into a little bag along with perfume samples.
I glance over to find Rage has turned into a thumb warrior on his phone. He looks so handsome when he’s deep in concentration. To think I could have been with him this whole time if only I hadn’t let my parents manipulate me into thinking he was dead. I was young and foolish.
I have to admit that I’m kind of running out of steam when it comes to picking clothing and I might have to take upFrancesca’s offer of having her model the outfits for me. Rage is suddenly interested and comes to sit beside me. I ask for dress clothes that I can go to an interview in, and Francesca comes back moments later in a cute little pink suit. It looks adorable on her, but I shake my head and ask, “Do you have it in black.”
“If course, it’s our best seller.”
When she comes back out, I love the look. Rage can tell. He says, “Bag it and let’s see a couple more outfits.”
Before long we’ve picked out four work outfits that I can mix and match. Then out comes the jeans, sweaters, and casual tops. By the time all’s said and done I have ten outfits and underthings.
All-in-all, it’s been a fantastic haul and despite my misgivings this morning, it hasn’t been too tiring. At the end of our excursion, Rage slips Francesca his credit card and I can’t tell how much the whole thing costs because she doesn’t tell him, and he distracts me before the total comes up on the register. He carries all the bags in one hand and places the other around my waist to keep me steady.
He carefully places all my bags behind the passenger side seat, helps me into the seat and buckles me in, careful to place the strap above my wound.
We pull out of the parking lot and head towards town, rather than to pick up Mia from Meli’s place. I’m dreading going into another store but realize that’s not what he has in mind when he pulls into the pick-up space at our local big box electronic store. Rage texts on his cellphone and someone runs out moments later with several bags.
After that we finally head back to pick Mia up. Rage is so chatty that I somehow manage to stay awake the whole way. My daughter jumps into the back seat and begins pawing through my bags excitedly.
Mia comments, “Oh, you got electronics too.”
“Out of your mother’s bags, Mia. You’re too curious for your own good.”
She just laughs at his mild rebuke. “You’re right. I have to know everything about everything.”
***
Once we got to Rage’s house I was overcome with tiredness, so he led me to a room, and I pretty much instantly fell asleep fully clothed. I wake up in what is obviously Rage’s second guest bedroom. He described his house as a small cottage, but this room is rather large. How long I’ve been sleeping is unclear in my mind, but I vaguely remember Rage waking me up to take my meds at some point. My head hurts. It feels like a caffeine withdrawal headache. Suddenly, I want nothing more than a good, hot cup of coffee.
I get out of bed and change out of my creased clothes and pull on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt from one of my shopping bags. I’d really love a shower, but coffee and something to eat are a higher priority. Slipping out of my room, I begin looking for the kitchen. I only have to follow my nose because I can smell bacon and fresh coffee. When I get close, I can hear that Rage and Mia are talking about cookies.
“No, you’re not supposed to smash them down with a fork. You’re supposed to roll them into a fist size ball and then tear the ball in two and put it on the cookie sheet rough side up.”
“That’s sounds like one hell of a cookie, kid.”
“Meli said we have to lower the oven temperature to three hundred or they won’t cook all the way through.”
“Well as Meli is the world’s best cookie baker, so I’m sure she’s giving you good advice.”
“Damn straight she is, “Mia says enthusiastically. “The cookies we made were the best damn cookies I’ve ever tasted.”
“You know something, Mia. I don’t think your mom would approve of your cursing when she’s not around.”
“You’re supposed to be my role model, and you curse, like all the time. It can’t be bad if you do it.”
Rage chokes out, “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t curse if you don’t. Then your mom doesn’t have to feel bad having you around a bad influence like me. How does that sound?”
Mia hesitates, “Yeah, that’s good. But you really think my mom feels bad when we curse?”
“Look, kid. I don’t know. I’ve never lived with a little girl before, so I’m just winging it here, but I know your mom won’t be thanking me if you end up cussing like a sailor.”
I walk into the room and answer the question they seem to be agonizing over. “I would feel bad if you grew up thinking it was okay for kids to curse. That’s not okay. When you’re all grown up, you get to decide a lot of things for yourself. One is whetheror not you want to curse. Until then, let’s keep our language PG, okay?”
Mia is sitting at the table with a drawing pad and a huge pencil with pretty pink feathers attached to the top. She nods, “Okay Mommy. I don’t want you to feel bad over the things I do.”
“Well, I’m responsible for how I feel, so don’t worry about that. Just try your best to be a good person and let everything else take care of itself.”
“I poured you coffee, Prissy. How do you take your morning brew?”