Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes Read Online Free

volcano of anger would burst out through the words. After a lifetime of keeping my anger stuffed like money under a mattress, I wasn’t ready to let it out now. “I can make them when I get back from the library.” I pulled out the leftover meatloaf to make sandwiches for lunch.
    “The Henryetta Southern Baptist Church is countin’ on me to bring them pies tomorrow. I made a commitment and I intend to honor it. You’re makin’ them pies before you go.”
    Momma sat in a chair at the kitchen table and waited for me to serve her lunch, as if I was her personal servant and she was the Queen of Sheba. Suddenly, just like a light switch turned from off to on, I’d had enough. I slammed my palm down, causing the dishes on the counter to rattle. Her head jerked up as I turned to face her. Anger made black spots dance before my eyes. “Well, Momma, if you made a commitment, then perhaps you should honor it and make the pies.” I practically shouted the last part, which from the look on Momma’s face, surprised her as much as it amazed me.
    “Don’t you raise your voice to me!” Momma shouted back. “I will not tolerate you breakin’ the Ten Commandments in my house.”
    I fumed while I finished making her sandwich then slammed the plate on the table in front of her. Turning back to the counter, I gathered the flour and butter to start the piecrust.
    “You come sit here right now. You can make them pies after lunch.”
    I turned to her, with my hand on my hip. “Which is it, Momma? You just told me I had to make the pies before I go. Now you’re tellin’ me not to make them. What about your commitment? I’m makin’ crust for the pies that you said you would make and then I’m leavin’.”
    Momma looked aghast. I later wondered if she was stymied by what I said or the fact I finally stood up to her. No matter the reason, she obviously didn’t like it. Her mouth puckered up like she’d just sucked on a lemon and her face turned a mottled red. I about fell over when I realized I had stunned her into speechlessness. That was a first.
    It didn't take long to make the piecrust. Normally, I would have put the dough in the refrigerator to harden then roll it out several hours later, but I didn't want to commit to being home by then. I threw an abundance of flour on the counter. The sticky mess clung to the rolling pin, no matter how much flour I added. I knew the crust would be a disaster, but I didn't care. If anything, it filled me with self-righteousness. That’s what she got for bullying me to do this instead of doing it herself. To add the piece de resistance , instead of peeling fresh apples, I pulled two cans of apple pie filling out of the cupboard. I opened them and simultaneously turned the cans upside down over the piecrust shells. The contents of the cans slurped and glooped out into the pie plates, the silence of the room filling with the sickening sound. I grabbed a spatula to spread the goo around then threw a crust on top of each.
    A quick glance at Momma confirmed the intended effect; she was horrified by the sight of the cans. I knew I should feel contrite about the smugness that filled me, but I told myself I could feel guilt later. Right now, I was gonna revel in the glory of it.
    The heat of the oven blasted my face when I tossed them in, but the fire inside me burned even hotter. I dumped all of the dirty bowls and utensils into the sink.
    “I’ve set a timer; you can take the pies out when it goes off.” I left the kitchen to get my purse and library books.
    Momma found her tongue when I returned. I was surprised it took her so long. “I ain’t got no idea what’s gotten into you, Rose Anne Gardner. Don’t you take that uppity tone with me. Your daddy must be rollin’ over in his grave.”
    “Don't you dare bring Daddy into this!” I yelled, not caring anymore. Shouting at Momma was like uncorking an oil well. Once it started spewing, it would take a whole lot of effort to make it