Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and look for someone else to help me. The shop is empty.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice wobbling. He glances up but doesn’t say anything. “Can you help me?”
He stands up and sets his pencil down. “What can I do for ya, miss?”
“I have this,” I say, making my way to the counter. I place my wedding ring on the glass, the clinking sound seeming so much louder than it probably is.
“Is this yours?”
I nod, batting back the tightness in my throat. “Where’d ya get it?”
“It was my wedding ring.”
I almost can’t do it. A surge of panic hits me hard and I straighten my back and look him in the eye, hoping I appear more confident than I feel.
“You want to pawn it or sell it?” He sets the ring down and braces himself against the counter. He seems curious, but I don’t want to discuss anything with him. I want to get this over with.
“Well, there’s no way I’m going to be able to buy it back, so sell it, I guess.” My voice breaks a little on the final word and I clench my teeth. This has to be done. I need the money.
“If you sell it, it’s mine. You realize that, right?”
I nod again, not trusting myself to speak. I try to force the ball of tears in the back of my throat to dissolve.
He sighs. “I can give you five hundred.”
I feel all hope drain from my body like an open sieve. Pawning my wedding ring, the most precious thing I own, is my last resort to keeping us afloat. $500 isn’t going to get me far.
But it’s ahead of where you are now.
“Can I ask you something?” He takes his glasses off and sets them down. “Why are you pawning this? Did you get divorced?”
“My, um . . .” I watch the hands of a clock tick between two guns behind his head. I can hear the secondhand tick softly; it’s almost hypnotic. “Um, my husband passed away and I need the cash.”
“For a vacation or something?” His forehead is wrinkled, his eyes narrowed.
I snort at the insinuation.
I wish.
I try to smile politely, frustrated that it’s taking so long and irritated that he would think I would sell my wedding ring for a vacation. I want to shout at him, lecture him on the ridiculousness of the question, but I don’t want to draw this process out any longer than necessary. Every question makes the pain amplify.
“No, sir. My daughter has been diagnosed with cancer and I’m broke.” My words come out clipped, yet I feel my bottom lip quiver.
He watches me for a moment and then picks up his glasses. He puts them on, bends down, and grabs a form from under the desk. “Fill this out, honey. I’ll be right back.”
I answer the questions and get out my driver’s license, trying to keep my mind blank and not focused on what I’m doing. I don’t want to think about it. I can see my ring off to my right and I have half a notion to pick it up and run out the door.
The man comes back and takes the paper. He notes a few things and slides my license back. I pop it into my wallet and watch him expectantly. The walls are closing in and I can’t breathe.
He hands me eight one-hundred-dollar bills.
“You told me five hundred dollars,” I say, looking up to him.
“Take it.”
“Sir . . .” I can’t say anything else. I can feel the heat in my chest, the burn in my throat, and I know the ever-present lump is going to interrupt any words I try to say.
“My wife and I will pray for your daughter. I hope she gets well, honey.”
I can only nod and smile, the tears streaming down my face. I allow myself one final glance at the token of love Gage placed on my ring finger one beautiful August day and turn and walk out.
SEVENTEEN
CREW
I tap my foot against the plank and it gives slightly. As usual, the landlord fixed it but half-assed. It’s a good thing they’re moving because I have an inkling that he and I would be going toe-to-toe if they were here much longer.
I move the toothpick around my mouth and watch the street. I’m not sure where she’s at and if Olivia knows, she’s not telling. She did let me see Ever, who was sleeping in her bed. She seemed a little pale, but it was good to just see her lying there. The dreamcatcher I gave her was hanging in the window and I hope to hell it works for her. She is living a real-life nightmare, whether she knows it or not. Her dreams should be her safe place.