Tragic Desires Read Online Free Page B

out,” she teases.
    When I do, I think about the other kids I know and the birthdays I overhear them talk about. How they have parties and do special things. But it’s always just been my mom and me. No other family or friends.
    “Hey , Mom … How come we don’t have any relatives or friends? I mean, I know you said my dad died before I was born and that your parents died when you were young. But didn’t you have any cousins or anything?” It suddenly hits me how odd it is that we’re so isolated.
    My mom’s usually tanned face suddenly pales. Her head slants away from me so now I don’t have a clear view of her face. “No, sweetie, I never had any cousins.” Her voice is choked.
    “I’m sorry, Mom.” I go to her and hug her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by that.”
    “It’s okay , Gemini. You can ask me anything you want. It was just an unexpected question.” She hugs me back. Then she leans away and asks, “Hey, you want to open your present?”
    “Well, yeah!”
    She turns around and hands me a tiny gift bag. It surprises me because I was expecting something larger, such as a box filled with clothes. Now, I think she must have gotten me jewelry. I grin.
    When I open the bag, all I see is tissue paper. I pull it out until I find the gift. A car key.
    “Oh my God. You didn’t?”
    She smiles. “I did. But before you go and see it, you have to swear to me you’ll take the most care driving it that you’ve ever taken in your life. I mean it, Gemini.”
    My smile is so huge , I’m sure my mom can count every tooth in my head. Now it’s my turn to squeeze her to smithereens.
    “Gemini, I can’t breathe,” she squeaks. Then she grabs my hand and pulls me into our garage, where she apparently hid the car yesterday. It’s a white Ford Escape and I’m in love with it.
    “Do you want to take it for a drive?”
    “Can I just ride in it first?” I’m too excited to drive right now.
    My mom laughs so hard, tears form in the corners of her eyes. She’s as happy as I am. We jump in and take my new baby for a spin. I play with the radio and the air conditioning and windshield wipers, just so I’ll know how to work them.
    When we pull in to our driveway, my mom turns, a serious look on her face, like she’s about to say something epic. But then she says, “Gemini, promise me you’ll be careful. Please don’t take any unnecessary risks.” And then she says something very strange … something that sticks with me for a long, long time. “And always watch your back, you know, your rearview mirror. If you think you’re being followed, do not come home. Drive straight to the police station. Okay?”
    “Yes , ma’am.”
     
    When I wake up, the ice has melted; I never zipped the bag, so I’m soaked. My migraine has eased a bit, enough for me to get back to my bedroom. I refill the bag and close it tightly before I go back to bed. Most people would say that I shouldn’t drink or take drugs. And that if I didn’t, maybe my headaches wouldn’t be so bad. If only that were the case. But it’s not. They’re just as excruciating without the alcohol and drugs. In fact, they’re worse because I get no reprieve at all.
    As I lie here, I think about my dreams. It’s been a while since I’ve had any about my mom. It’s probably because I miss her so damn much. Whoever said that time eases the loss of a loved one was a big fat fucking liar. The grief I feel now is just as overwhelming as it was when she died five years ago. Sometimes, like right now, it’s worse.
    Glancing at the nightstand clock, I see it’s close to six in the evening. Time to get a shower and eat something. I’ve been out of it all day and my plans are to hit the clubs again tonight. Before that, though, I need groceries. Mother Hubbard’s cupboard is bare. Going out in the daytime isn’t an option. It’s too bright and my headaches spike.
    I shower, dress , and head out. It doesn’t take me long to grab what I need, so