Page 41 of Between the Lines

But that’s what books are for. They aren’t real life.

They’re a break from it.

I’m okay, I know that.

“Isn’t she darling.” An older woman peers down at Daisy, who’s wearing a yellow bow in her curls and a lemon-print sundress to match. Daisy smiles, palms gleefully slapping the tray of her stroller.“Thank you,” I reply with a soft grin, moving through the bookstore to my next favorite space.

Plants hang from the ceiling and a worn woven rug lies underfoot. It’s quiet and warm back here, like a hug.

“Mama!” Daisy says my name, and my heart flutters a bit. It never gets old.

Though the joy is fleeting as Daisy attempts to push herself up, frustrated with the restraints of her stroller.

God forbid I try to keep her safe.

“Here, hold on,” I mumble, grabbing a children’s book from the shelf and handing it to her. It’s a dollar, so even if she rips it or chews it—which she will—I can afford to buy it.

I’ll do anything for a few minutes of peace.

Exhaling, I fling my long braided hair over my shoulder and set my coffee in the stroller’s cupholder. Then I start running my finger over the worn spines.

Within minutes, I easily have a large stack of hopefuls. All romance. Because real men suck.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” I beg my daughter as she tosses her book—gnawed corner and all—out of the stroller and begins to whine.

Then my phone rings. It’s the garage.

“Hello, Miss Hanson?”

“Yes?” I rock the stroller back and forth. It’s only been thirty minutes. They shouldn’t be calling yet.

“We were planning to do your inspection after putting the tires on, but once we had them off, we saw how worn your brake pads were. They’re below spec. It won’t pass inspection like this.” The mechanic chuckles. “It’s surprising they’ve held on this long.”

I don’t return the laugh. I merely stare at the wall of mismatched books while all the colors blur together. Cold sweat gathers at the back of my neck, and with a tight exhale, I muster up a response.

“Okay.” I pause, the sound of chatter and clinking metal comes through the phone. “Probably important to pass inspection . . . so yes, please replace the brake pads.”

There goes the extra hundred dollars I was going to put towards repaying the roof loan . . .

The mechanic coughs into the phone. “Sounds good, ma’am. Since it’s nearing four o’clock, we’re going to need to keep it overnight. We will be able to finish the work first thing in the morning. Do you have a way to get home?”

It’s like I’m stuck in a wind tunnel, unable to move.

I can’t drive around with bald tires and shit brakes any longer.

If I would’ve known the car needed additional work, I would’ve just asked Jesse to do it, but it’s too late for that now. My car is sitting somewhere, jacked up and already ripped apart.

I bite my nails, eyes darting around the small room.

Penny’s out of town, and I can’t call Danny. What the hell would I say?

Yes, can you please drop me off at my boss’s estate? No, sorry, I can’t explain. Thanks!

Halle’s working until close, much too late to keep Daisy out. Luanne plays bridge with her friends on Saturday evenings.

Daisy starts to whimper as if on cue, and I’m not sure I can pinch the bridge of my nose any harder without breaking a bone.

“Miss Hanson, are you still there?”