Read Online The Immaculate Deception by Sherry Silver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherry Silver
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then.” I thought for a moment. “But I don’t have a spacesuit. I won’t be able to breathe. And the temperature will freeze me or burn me, whichever way it goes in space.” My author’s brain played around with the idea. If we were going toward the sun, it would be hot. I didn’t know if Mars had a sun or not. I guessed it was cold there. Darn, I wished I had a better education. Not that I was ever too interested in astronomy. Just still jealous of Perry and Tammy talking our parents into carte blanche for their career needs. I sighed. I needed to let go of this jealousy and anger and forgive everyone. It was the only way I would be able to heal my Swiss cheese heart.
Staring at Venus, I heard music. The “Donna” song. Well, at least I won’t suffocate or freeze solid this time.
~*~
I woke up to honking. It was dawn on Wednesday, back in the real world. The traffic was moving. I started the engine and inched along. They had replaced the old drawbridge with this wider one. The additional lanes hadn’t helped one bit when it got stuck open. Unbelievable that Congress hadn’t approved something more practical, like building it high enough so any ship could pass under it.
The traffic jam finally opened up once I got over the bridge and passed the first two Virginia exits, Mount Vernon and Alexandria. I sailed on home with the sunrise.
“ Ouch.” The Corvette bottomed out on the speed bump in my neighborhood. It didn’t actually hurt me but I dreaded looking under the front of the car. I turned into my concrete driveway and shifted to park. I stepped out and peeked underneath. What a relief, no damage. I trudged up to the garage and punched seven–seven–one–five into the keypad. I had lost the remote in the accident. The door wheezed and squealed open. I needed to get the chain oiled or something.
My roommate’s car wasn’t there. Not that I’d ever even seen it or the roommate for that matter. Ashley had answered my ad via email and that’s how we communicated. If not for the oil-stained floor on the left side of the garage and the seven hundred bucks she electronically deposited into my checking account every month, I’d say she was all a figment of my imagination. She lived in the basement and went in and out through the French doors in the backyard.
There was a fire grade door between the first floor and the basement. I kept it closed but unlocked in case of fire or some other emergency. I didn’t even know if she was neat or not. Didn’t care either. Ideal roomie. She was gone most of the time, driving the tour bus for one of the big rock bands of the seventies. The grandpas played stadiums and state fairs, something like two hundred gigs a year. But Ashley was a writer wannabe, a songwriter. That was what clicked it for me, when she mentioned that. Another soul in a sucky job like mine, aspiring to be a writer. We had developed a nice relationship via email. We’d gossip about the neighbors, discuss major weather events, talk politics and we’d even touched on religion. So far there didn’t seem to be anything we couldn’t chat about.
I noticed mail stacked on a shelf next to the potting soil. That was sweet, Ashley brought it in. Must’ve been piling up out in the common box on the corner. I grabbed it and went back out to the Vette. I drove her in the garage and proceeded back outside. I punched in the close code and the door did just that. I fumbled around on Momma’s key ring and felt clever. Clever and relieved I had the keen forethought to give Momma a key to my house, just in case. I ascended the steps to the stoop. I opened the door, shuffled in and shut it behind me.
Be it ever so humble and all that important stuff but it felt so good to finally be home again. I meandered into the kitchen and tossed the mail along with Momma’s purse and keys onto the granite island. I washed my hands and then popped a store-brand diet cola out of the fridge. Good and cool, all the way
Staring at Venus, I heard music. The “Donna” song. Well, at least I won’t suffocate or freeze solid this time.
~*~
I woke up to honking. It was dawn on Wednesday, back in the real world. The traffic was moving. I started the engine and inched along. They had replaced the old drawbridge with this wider one. The additional lanes hadn’t helped one bit when it got stuck open. Unbelievable that Congress hadn’t approved something more practical, like building it high enough so any ship could pass under it.
The traffic jam finally opened up once I got over the bridge and passed the first two Virginia exits, Mount Vernon and Alexandria. I sailed on home with the sunrise.
“ Ouch.” The Corvette bottomed out on the speed bump in my neighborhood. It didn’t actually hurt me but I dreaded looking under the front of the car. I turned into my concrete driveway and shifted to park. I stepped out and peeked underneath. What a relief, no damage. I trudged up to the garage and punched seven–seven–one–five into the keypad. I had lost the remote in the accident. The door wheezed and squealed open. I needed to get the chain oiled or something.
My roommate’s car wasn’t there. Not that I’d ever even seen it or the roommate for that matter. Ashley had answered my ad via email and that’s how we communicated. If not for the oil-stained floor on the left side of the garage and the seven hundred bucks she electronically deposited into my checking account every month, I’d say she was all a figment of my imagination. She lived in the basement and went in and out through the French doors in the backyard.
There was a fire grade door between the first floor and the basement. I kept it closed but unlocked in case of fire or some other emergency. I didn’t even know if she was neat or not. Didn’t care either. Ideal roomie. She was gone most of the time, driving the tour bus for one of the big rock bands of the seventies. The grandpas played stadiums and state fairs, something like two hundred gigs a year. But Ashley was a writer wannabe, a songwriter. That was what clicked it for me, when she mentioned that. Another soul in a sucky job like mine, aspiring to be a writer. We had developed a nice relationship via email. We’d gossip about the neighbors, discuss major weather events, talk politics and we’d even touched on religion. So far there didn’t seem to be anything we couldn’t chat about.
I noticed mail stacked on a shelf next to the potting soil. That was sweet, Ashley brought it in. Must’ve been piling up out in the common box on the corner. I grabbed it and went back out to the Vette. I drove her in the garage and proceeded back outside. I punched in the close code and the door did just that. I fumbled around on Momma’s key ring and felt clever. Clever and relieved I had the keen forethought to give Momma a key to my house, just in case. I ascended the steps to the stoop. I opened the door, shuffled in and shut it behind me.
Be it ever so humble and all that important stuff but it felt so good to finally be home again. I meandered into the kitchen and tossed the mail along with Momma’s purse and keys onto the granite island. I washed my hands and then popped a store-brand diet cola out of the fridge. Good and cool, all the way
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