Greetings from the Flipside Read Online Free Page A

the man who would take her away from this place, forever.
    His voice mail picked up. “Hey, it’s Sam. I’m probably off playing some outrageously sick gig right now. But if you’re important, maybe I’ll ring you.” A guitar vamp roared through the phone, followed by a delicate beep.
    “Hey, it’s me. I love you and can’t wait to walk down the aisle. I can’t wait to hear the song you’re writing for me. I can’t wait”—she glanced at the picture of her dad on the bedspread, still grinning—“to not live in Poughkeepsie anymore . . .” She was talking as if the voice mail might converse back. “You know what, I’m just rambling now. I’ve got lots to do, so I’ll catch ya on the flipside.”
    Outside her room, her mother sang some gospel music or something. Hope hopped off her bed and went to her closet, where her beautiful white gown hung, wrapped in plastic, off the back of the door.
    She was actually getting married. Crazy was about to be a distant memory and normal was where she planned to relocate.

2
    I n solid sheets of white, rain gushed over the 1972 Oldsmobile that Hope drove along at fifteen miles an hour because, starting in 1994, her mother refused to drive in anything but pure sunshine. Wouldn’t even drive on a cloudy day.
    And as luck would have it, on their way to the church, the windshield wipers stopped working. Her mother now hung out the window and loudly declared the wipers to be HEALED!
    “Oh God!” she wailed, soaked to the bone on her right side, “Come! Heal these wipers.”
    When the wind shifted, rain splattered against Hope’s cheek. Good thing she never had any grand ambitions about her wedding day. She hadn’t pictured frills and carriages and perfect weather. Of course, she hadn’t pictured her mother hanging out the car window praying over the windshield wipers either, but things could always be worse.
    “Mother!” Hope yelled over the rain.
    But her mom couldn’t hear her. She still hung out the window, trying to fix the wiper blades, half her body teetering out of the car and one arm wrapped around the car frame. She wouldn’t drive on a cloudy day but had no problem with this.
    “Lord! Hear our prayer!”
    Hope glanced down at the speedometer. She was now going thirteen miles an hour.
    Her mother started manually moving the wipers back and forth across the windshield. Hope slumped in her seat. At this point, frills and carriages and an ounce of sunshine wouldn’t kill her.
    God, please . . .
    Suddenly, the wipers squeaked to life again. Her mom emerged from the rain. “There! Sometimes when the wipers of life get stuck, you gotta arm wrestle them to life.”
    Hope smiled, trying her best to enjoy each moment of this day. This would turn out to be one of those memories you laughed about. Later.
    The downpour started up again. “So today’s the big day!” her mom shouted over the racket of the rain and the squeak of the wipers. “You finally get to hear the song Sam’s been working on for you!”
    This brought a genuine smile to her face. “I know!”
    “That boy has some God-given talent! I see him in a church one day,” she declared, lifting her hand toward the windshield like it was a portal into heaven. “Yes, yes, yes I do. Leading a choir of hundreds.”
    Over his dead body . But Hope kept her mouth shut. Sam had wanted to wed at Pairaview Hall, where Black Sabbath once played. She’d told him that wasn’t going to fly.
    Hope wasn’t a big church attender, but a church seemed like the proper place to wed . . . a good way to start off the whole deal. There would be lots of things coming against a marriage. God shouldn’t be one of them.
    Finally they arrived at the Poughkeepsie Community Church, quaint but colorless on this dreary day. The wedding dress was double-wrapped and her mother insisted on carrying it in. Hope resisted twice. Her mom insisted three times.
    As she watched her mom maneuver the dress up the steps of the church, Hope