Termination Dust

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

Kimmie woke up to a crisp autumn morning. She and Pip had been clutching each other in their sleep, whether from the cold or the sheer loneliness of their existence and the grief they both shared.

She slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, and peeked out the bedroom door. Chuck was still asleep in his recliner, but the quiet and peace of the morning wouldn’t last long. If she was lucky, she’d have time for a shower without hearing her stepfather yell about all the money she wasted running the hot water.

Maybe if he fixed all the stupid leaks in this cheap trailer, she wouldn’t be so cold all the time and need to thaw herself out under the scalding flow.

Kimmie had taken these past few days off from work, but they needed her back at the daycare soon. One of her coworkers had recently moved away — no one knew where — and Kimmie and her friend Jade were now the only reliable staff.

Kimmie had mixed feelings about returning to work. On the one hand, since Chuck had refused to offer her mother even the simplest of funerals, there wasn’t a whole lot for her to do at home. No relatives coming to visit. Her sister Meg would take care of the body in Anchorage, and since Meg was married to a real estate agent with enough money to pay for a five-bedroom home on the hillside and two or three tropical vacations a year, Kimmie figured Meg would find a way to give their mom a nice burial even if Chuck wouldn’t let them plan a formal service.

It wasn’t right. Mom had been the most faithful, God-fearing woman Kimmie ever knew. And now she was gone, without a single pastor to pray over her gravesite or a gathering of friends to share memories from her life. Kimmie wondered if Mom still had any friends in Anchorage, if Meg would find anyone to attend a service in her honor.

Everything about the past week felt wrong. Surreal. Like a badly written script where none of the characters acted like themselves. A knock-off of real life, poorly written and unnecessarily tragic. Kimmie kept waiting for the director to stop the cameras and rant about the terrible quality of the plot, the cheap acting, and the senseless scenes.

Kimmie tiptoed into the bathroom, careful not to wake Chuck up. While she waited for the water to heat up, she stretched in front of the smudged mirror. Mom had been a prisoner, leaving the trailer to go to the grocery store and back and that was all. So she’d developed an entire morning calisthenics routine, and when Kimmie was younger, she’d watch her mother exercise in unmasked adoration. Sometimes Mom would sing her Bible songs while she stretched and worked her muscles.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, since you’re working for God and not for men.

Above all else, love each other deeply, deeply, deeply, for love covers over a multitude of sins.

Kimmie took off her pajamas and stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water scalded her skin. She’d only have two or three minutes before Chuck would be pounding on the door, snarling at her to turn that cursed shower off, but for right now she could enjoy the quiet and solitude.

She could stand under the steaming spray as the heat melted away her icy chill.

She could pretend, if only for a moment, that Mom was in the kitchen, brewing Chuck’s coffee, preparing the family’s breakfast. She could hear her mom’s faint humming in the echoes of her memories.

Above all else, love each other deeply, deeply, deeply, for love covers over a multitude of sins.

If only Mom had realized sooner that sometimes not even love itself is enough to save you.