The Fake Out by Sharon M. Peterson
SIXTEEN
Do they have a fire extinguisher around here? ’Cause you’re smokin’.
—JOCELYN S.
I couldn’t sleep.
Not my normal, run-of-the-mill, anxiety-fueled insomnia either. Although that was present and accounted for. This tossing and turning led straight back to that conversation with Chris.
A fake engagement? That stuff only happened in romance novels for a reason. Not in real life and not to people like me.
No. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t spend the time and energy convincing people I was happily engaged to anyone. To freaking Chris Sterns, football god.
But also… $100,000.
Of course, I should probably be offended he thought I could be bought off. Then again, I wasn’t in a position to be offended. That kind of money was life-changing.
I sat up and flipped on the lamp on my nightstand. From the drawer, I withdrew a notepad and pencil I kept there. Sometimes, when the anxiety got too bad, I’d make a list of good things in my life to help me get through it. Every now and then, it worked.
I found a fresh sheet and divided it in half, labeling one side PRO and one side CON.
CONS
—The lying
—The pretending
—The fake-ness
PROS
—$100,000
—Money to pay off Mama’s medical bills
—It bears repeating: $100,000
With a groan, I tossed the notepad aside, disturbing a sleeping Kevin. This earned me a scathing glare. His tail whipped around in righteous kitty anger.
“Well, excuse me,” I grumbled.
“Don’t do it again,” his eyes said.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t even believe I’m considering this nonsense.” I flipped off the covers and quietly stole away to the kitchen. Maybe a snack would help.
Decisions usually came easy to me and once I made one, I stuck to it. Even when quitting might have been better for my mental health and well-being. Case in point, the summer I nannied for the Colson Triplets. They were monsters. I still had an occasional nightmare about that last trip we took to the zoo. It should be noted that no one, not even the zoo staff, could figure out how Connor got into that prairie dog exhibit. But I stuck it out until the bitter end.
I was almost to the kitchen when I heard a soft clunk coming from the general area. When I turned the corner, I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table eating ice cream straight out of the carton.
“Mama?”
She startled and her spoon clattered to the table. “Goodness, you scared me to death.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“What gives you that idea?” she asked, picking up the spoon and digging back into the carton.
“Could be that it’s two in the morning. Could be that you’re speed-eating ice cream.” I dug around in the silverware drawer for a spoon and sat next to her. “Hmmm. Chocolate Pecan. I didn’t know we had any.”
She pushed the container between us. “That’s because I hide it, so you and your sister don’t find it.”
I snickered and took a bite. Under the dim light of the overhead above the stove, I studied my mother’s face. There was a pinched look around her eyes and the corners of her mouth.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
With a sigh, she shook her head. “I’m fine. You?”
“Just the usual.”
Mama set her spoon down and straightened, fussing with the collar of her floral housedress. “I’m glad you’re up.”
“Oh?”
She reached into her pocket, pulled out an envelope, and slid it across the table. “I got this today. It’s a bill from my neurologist.”
Oh, no. Oh. No. Bills were never supposed to be delivered to the house. I grabbed at it and saw it had been opened. With a heavy feeling in my stomach, I pulled the bill from inside.
“I’ll save you the trouble,” Mama said, an edge to her voice as she told me the figure: $7,393.47.
“Mama…”
“Why am I just seeing this?” She jabbed a finger at the bill in my hand. “In fact, why haven’t I seen more of these bills? There must be more.”
“Mama…”
She kept talking over me. “This is my fault. I don’t know why I haven’t been looking for them.”
“Mama…” I said again.
“Maebell Sampson, do not lie to me,” she said, her voice raised. “Are there more of them?”
“It’s under control. I swear.”
She pressed her lips together, the left side of her mouth listing downward, and I was again reminded she could have died. I might not be sitting next to her in the kitchen in the middle of the night because she almost died.
Carefully, I folded up the bill and slid it back into the envelope. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“How can I not worry? How many other bills are there?”
I shook my head and lied some more. Really, I was getting very good at all this lying. “This is it, and I’m working with the clinic to get it reduced.” I turned to her and looked her in the eye. “I have it all under control. I promise if there’s anything I need, I’ll let you know.”
“Maebell,” she sighed.
I stood and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mama. I have a plan.”
When I got back to my room, I sent the text even though it was almost 3 a.m. It was short and sweet.
Me: Yes.
Setting the phone aside, I climbed under my covers, shivering a little even though it was a warm spring night. When the phone dinged back, my whole body tensed like one enormous charley horse. My hand shook when I grabbed for the phone.
Dreamboat: Thank you.