Page 59 of Wild in Minnesota


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Dear life, whatever bastard. Whatever.

The further we drove from the cabin the deeper my mood sunk. I was pissed.

Katie looked into the backseat with her larger than life smile. “I’m helping a friend think of a new business to get up and going. Do you have any ideas?”

“Do I have ideas?” I let out a huff. “I think the world is too cheery, Katie. Yeah, maybe it needs to be brought down a notch. How about a coffee shop called Screw You Mornings. Yeah, they could make all sorts of delightful drinks with cute names like It’s too early for this shit with an extra shot of fuck you.”

Her eyes grew wide which seemed to spur me on. “Or he’ll never love you, ya stupid bitch with a pump of dumbass, or maybe something like?—”

She nodded and cleared her throat, “Well, that is definitely an idea.”

I leaned my head back, knowing I was half way to the silent ride I wanted. “We could do some top notch brainstorming if you’d like. We have an hour.” I flashed my toothiest smile.

Her eyes shot around the backseat. “You know, I think I’m just going to check my emails. But thanks for the creative ideas.”

When we finally pulled up to my parents’ house, I grabbed my suitcase, waved them goodbye, and wished there was a way into the house that would allow me to sneak past my mom. She had weird witchy senses and could always feel when something was wrong with me. Let’s face it. I deserved a medal for making it through today without stabbing someone in the neck with a fork.

I snuck in the front door, hoping to get upstairs without being noticed.

“Boo!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when my mother sprung from the coat closet. She loved to get a jump scare out of anyone she could. That would likely be what eventually takes my father out.

I looked at my Italian mother and sighed. She was five-foot-three on a good day with her hair styled in a chin-length bob as it had been as long as I could remember. I looked into the blue eyes she gave me and shook my head.

It was then her mouth dropped open. “What in the hell happened to you? Bruises and cuts on my baby!” She leaped forward and took my face in her hands. Her eyes were filled with concern, but after a second, they switched to who do I need to kill? “Oh, I’m calling Dave. Get my gun and shovel. Somebody might die today!”

“Mom, you can’t kill?—”

“The hell I can’t. I’m a woman who has been washing bloodstains out of my clothing for decades. I can sure as hell get away with murder.”

I pulled my face from her grasp and held her hands. “Nobody did anything, Mom. Calm down. I hit a piece of ice, and the car went over a tiny little cliff?—”

She yanked me to her and buried her face in my shoulder while her Italian tongue flew. “Oh buon Dio, sto avendo un infarto!”

“You’re not having a heart attack, Mother. I’m fine.” I peeled her off me. “But Dad’s car is jacked up.”

She placed both hands over her heart. “I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass about the car!” She looked up to the heavens. “Grazier Dio per aver risparmiato mia figlia!”

Translation: Thank you God for sparing my daughter. Yes, she’s a tad bit over the top.

Her head shook. “If you had died, I would’ve crawled right in that casket and gone with you, I could never live without you.” She inhaled deeply through her nose. Her eyes were freaking me out a little.

“That’s an odd pressure you’re laying on me, Mom.”

My mother took my hand and led me upstairs to my childhood room that hadn’t changed in a decade. White desk and dresser, lavender walls with a cozy bed covered by a purple and white floral comforter.

I plopped down on the bed, and she sat next to me just as Madam Fluffypants, the family cat, hopped up beside me. I side-eyed my mom who shook her head.

“She loves it, Fern.”

My eyeballs moseyed back to the white fluffy cat who was wearing a blue and yellow crocheted sweater dress. Yes, Mama Novotny has taken up crocheting, and the family cat, who seemed to have lost her mojo since I’d been away, was her victim. Poor cat was dressed in humiliating crocheted outfits and then shoved into a cat backpack with a window any time they left the house.

My mother took my chin in her hand. “You escaped the clutches of death, Fern Ethel.” She wiped a piece of hair from my face. “You were spared.”

I wanted to tell her to shut up, but instead I sat there fighting the burning at the back of my eyes. While I’d done my best to not think of the car on ice situation, it was still there. The accident, sitting trapped in the freezing car believing that might be the end and realizing what having no way out felt like, ran through my brain like burning lava.

Once she pulled me into her, I let it go. Tears for the unfairness of it all. Tears for the physical pain of missing Gabe. Tears for the heart I was almost certain would never be whole again.