Sandra stretched, opened her eyes, and looked around the room. It had been three days since she had been forced to move into her father’s guest room. She tried not to cling to the past. Don is trying, she thought, he really is.
The room had been freshly painted a creamy beige. All reference to her stepbrother had been taken away. Simple silk drapes adorned the only window. The wagon-wheel bunk beds had been replaced with a full size bed, a vintage vanity and a small stool. Sandra’s suitcases—only two of them—sat in the corner. The only items she had unpacked and hung in the closet were the two suits she might need for interviews. After all, she told herself, this is only temporary.
Suddenly she heard voices, really no more than a murmur, but enough to remind her it was time to start her day.
(Three word Wednesday—cling, murmur, taken.)
Sandra drove out of town heading north on I-5, bulky boxes filling every crevice of her tiny Kia. Mist lingered over the horizon. As unsettling as it was, she was resigned to the fact that her father’s home was the only place she had to go.
She hadn’t lived with Don since she was five-years-old. He had come in and out of her life all during her childhood, but never seemed to stay. He was widowed a year ago and, Sandra thought, loneliness is probably the only reason he has called me every week since.
Sandra tried to bury her feelings but she was still angry for the way he had deserted her and her mother. And even though Karen was gone, she couldn’t accept the fact that her father had married Karen and raised Karen’s son. And, Sandra decided that she didn’t care if Don knew that either.
Oh God, she thought, please please, help me find a job quickly.
She knew living with her father wasn’t going to work. But, for now, somehow, she had to make it work.
Three word Wednesday words–bulky, mist, resign.