Chapter 3

There were fingers trying to dig thru my skull into my brain. With very sharp nails. No other explanation for the pain in my head. Unless….perhaps….Ugh..had I been stupid enough to drink last night? I know better. There’s a reason I don’t drink. With a groan befitting a woman in labor or a man with a cold, I pried open an eye. This was not my living room. Memories of the previous day floated through my mind like the opening to a TV show. Previously on Kenna’s Operetta….

I sat up and chugged the water Mr. Blond and Chivalrous had left out for me. Somewhere deep inside I found the strength to stand up and climb the stairs. After I collected my toilettes from my room I staggered into the bathroom where I turned the hot water on in the shower, shucked my clothes and dove in.

I stayed in the shower until the ginormous hot water tank pops had installed during my teenage years ran cold. (Something about other people wanting to take hot showers too. Not sure who he was talking about, I always started my day with a hot shower.) After drying off with a towel I was pretty sure I had used in high school, I quickly dressed in jeans and a light blue sweater before I gelled and combed my curls into submission. Thankfully the shower had chased away the hang over from my ill-advised night of drinking. I noticed movement over my shoulder as I stared into the fogged up mirror debating the whole makeup or natural look.

“I don’t see you. You aren’t real.” I muttered as I turned from the mirror, deciding to go out into the world with a naked face. Once I had gathered my things I returned to my room. That would have been comforting except, my mother followed me.

“Darling, we need to talk.” My mother’s Alabama accent was strong when she was serious and she really emphasized the k on talk. She looked just as she had when I imagined her last night. As well as when I use to think I saw her when I was in my teens. Not that anyone believed me when I said my mother

would come into my room at night and sing me songs from the seventies when I couldn’t sleep. Not even my shrink. Everyone thought I had a vivid imagination and that I was traumatized by her death. Well duh. She had raised me mostly on her own for ten years and she went and died on me. I think it’s understandable that I had issues.

“I’d love to talk to you. But, since we both know that you are nothing more than my subconscious taking the form of my mother, I’d really not only be talking to myself but answering myself and that is a sign of insanity. So, I’m gonna have to pass.” I turned off the light and headed for the stairs. My mother walked beside me in silence and giving me the look. Oh I knew that look. Usually it meant I was being stubborn and she was counting to ten before giving me a verbal smack down. She kept her silence until I reached the foyer and knelt down to put all my stuff back in my backpack. A molecule of guilt shot thru me. The rules of the house stated that all messes were to be cleaned up as soon as they were made. I really wished pops would appear and yell at me for leaving my stuff scattered where anyone could trip over it and break their necks.

“Kenna Audra McIntosh!” My mother pushed me onto the bench of the hall tree. I looked at her in shock as she waggled a finger in my face. How did a hallucination do that? “You have to listen to me! There are things you need to know. Things that were kept from you that shouldn’t have been.”

I jumped to my feet, scooped up my backpack and turned on my heel. “Hallucination be gone!” I commanded as I ran out the door. A feeling of foolishness washed over me as soon as I reached the driveway. My beloved Wrangler was still in the gas station parking lot. Well crapola. Fearing my mother would make another appearance if I stayed put, I took off at a jog for the barn pops use to use for a garage. Hopefully there was something with an engine other than a tractor in there.

The well-oiled barn door slid open without a sound. A gasp escaped me when I flipped the light switch. Off to the side sat a car shaped cover. Its lines looked familiar. Had he kept it all these year? I ran over and ripped the cloth cover off. Gleaming green metal met my eyes. Aqua with a pearl coat to be exact.

Lovingly I ran my hand across the cream soft top. She was still gorgeous. My 1967 Camaro! The joy cascading through my heart at the sight of her was wrong, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t laid eyes on my beloved car since I got caught drag racing her senior year and pops took the keys. The

thought of pops brought me back to reality. I forced my mind away from all the make out sessions that had happened in the back seat. Where were the keys…that was the question. Hopefully not in the house. That’s where the hallucination was and I didn’t wanna go back there. Crossing my fingers I flipped down the visor and caught the Tinkerbell key ring that fell. Yes. Pops still kept the keys in the visor.

“That’s grand theft auto you know.”