If I'm Good For Anything by K.B.F. (books to read in your 20s female .TXT) 📕

there was nothing. He didn’t bother to take anything out of the closet. I checked. But why would he have? With two hundred and fifty grand, there isn’t a pair of underwear you can’t buy.
It took them a whole two days to tell me. They didn’t have to though, I had already seen it on the news. When I saw the tapes, I had to squeeze my eyes shut, and hold my stomach tight. It was him without a doubt.
Years later, when I could dare to imagine it, I believed it went a little something like this;
When he stepped out into the cool night air, he didn’t have to rub his hands together, or pull his jacket tight. He was already hot. His blood was coursing quickly, he was high on adrenaline. He never drove aimlessly. His mind didn’t race through the endless possibilities. I know this because I found a clipping of the advertisement a few months later. He did however, glance at his watch, and quicken his steps. He had spent to much time saying his goodbyes, the lot would close soon.
When he arrived, and the entry was locked, he cursed. He might have even slammed his fist against the door. At least we know for a fact he hit it with a brick. The tape shows it all.
What it doesn’t show is the smile on his face when the leather touches his palms. He caresses the steering wheel, and drops the emergency break. He falters with the clutch, but when the engine turns he believes he hears the angels sing. He thinks to himself that nothing could ruin this moment. I want to believe that part most of all. I want to believe it, because he ruined our lives. If that part is true, than the next is so much sweeter.
When the sirens sound, he doesn’t hesitate. He knew they would come, wanted them to. He pulls out, and rolls through the first traffic light without stopping. He shifts smoothly, and accurately. His hands don‘t shake, and the shifter doesn‘t jump when he moves into sixth gear. He glides onto the interstate without a hitch. The Mustang gleams in the moonlight, and the wind whips through the windows. The police are far behind. I know he cranked up the radio. Maybe it was something like Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana.
When he saw the signs for the Georgia line, I think something become clear in Nolan’s mind, a thought that had never occurred to him before. Maybe he thought of us, and it was an accident. Probably not. Maybe he was too tired to run. Honestly, I believe he saw an end, an out. He found a way to escape the bills, the long nights, the screaming, our tiny apartment, the coldness that lie between us, the expectations, but mostly, the imminent failures that a life like his, like ours customarily brings.
The video from the helicopter reveals it all. You can see this toy car zooming down 85-South like it’s on the Talladega Speedway. Careening through the lanes, and around an occasional car. There isn’t one definite moment when his direction changes. All of a sudden you see the car in the wall. It’s on fire, and you probably can’t breathe. I know this because I couldn’t.
I believe the saddest part of it all is the fact that no one remembers him for the best things he did in his life, but the worst. At our tenth high school reunion the reminiscing ceases when I walk into the room. I know their whispers are not of football runs, or college acceptances. No one is gathering around to talk of true love, or beautiful baby boys with me.
Thirteen years have passed since an emptiness this dark sent me strolling mindlessly through hallways just like the ones I must face today. Although this school is shiny, and new the feelings it brings are worn out, and typical.
Six years have passed since he left me. That’s how I like to describe it, because from time to time I believe that’s what he was really doing, leaving me. I still reach for him in the middle of the night, and eat on the same side of the table. I don’t buy generic ice cream, even though it never tasted any different to me. I forgetfully sign his name on Christmas cards, and still can‘t listen to John Mayer. Sometimes I miss him so much I vomit. Sometimes I don’t shower, or get out of bed for days. It is times like these I am happy my mother raises Charlie.
However, sometimes, it is almost as if things are close to normal. I get ready in the morning, and take out the trash. I go to work at a restaurant down the street, and I walk home. I go grocery shopping, and to the dentist. I pull my hair back, and occasionally, I even paint my nails.
When I get into bed, it is still on the right side only. When I lay my head down, and close my eyes, I do just that. There is no praying, no crying, and no thinking. There is only darkness, and sleeping.


Chapter 15
It is so easy to remember the bad. When my pen hit the paper the demons spilled out and bled through the pages.
When I heard you were getting married, I knew it was time. Though I have never met her, I’m sure she is incredible.
I am sorry for all the years I missed. I am most sorry because the ones that I was there for, are the most precious. I remember your first steps, and how happy your father was when you ran to him. These are the moments I relive over and over. You are the movie in my head, and you are with me every day.
I love you more than life itself,
Your Mother

I am warm, and it is dark. The noise from the machines are driving me crazy. I’ve always despised hospitals. When I learned of the cancer in my stomach one year ago, my biggest concern was how much time I would spend in a facility just like this one. The day They told me about the tumor, I drove out to the beach and laid in the sand until daybreak eighteen hours later. I thought of everything, my debt, your unborn children, the pain, and mostly, your father.
A layer of dew had formed across my folded hands, and an orange tint filled the sky. The wind began to blow, and for the first time in my life I experienced something too much for words. A tingling sensation stirred deep in my chest, a pleasant numbness filled my body. And in my head, in my thoughts, in my words, in my voice, I heard the message. God was telling me that I was going to come home.
I went home and cleaned. I gave my dog to the neighbors, and took my jewelry to the bank lock box. Changing into multiple layers of clothing I laced my shoes, and grabbed a notebook.
The first six days I spent on the beach were difficult. There were many times I wanted to give in and head home. However, something kept calling me to write, so when the sun was out, or the moon was bright enough to see, I put my pen to the pages. Many times I wanted to erase what I had divulged, afraid of what you may think. But I know now these are the most important parts.
I wanted to die on the beach, but now by man’s hand, I will perish in a hospital.
The light in the hall is shining through cracks in the blinds at the foot of my bed. I am beginning to feel suffocated by the darkness creeping in from all corners of this tiny room. When the door begins to open my heart beats fast, I am terrified. The fingers wrapped around the door disappear, and a familiar face comes around the corner. I cannot breathe.
“Nolan?” I shake my head
He is standing before me, looking just as he did at twenty-three. I cannot stop the flood of tears rushing from my eyes, I cannot speak.
“No mom, it’s me.”
It takes a moment, but when I realize it’s you I feel the strength to stand, to run from the impending darkness that creeps so closely behind me. But I do not sit up, because you come to me. As you have always done. I begin to tell you I am sorry, that I love you, that I never meant to…
But you have heard it all, and now it is your turn to speak. And so, for the next four hours I listen. For the first time you tell me everything. You remember me, as a woman I never knew. A woman whom you compare your future wife to, a compliment that means more than you will ever know.
I’m aware that I appear to be asleep for the next few days. I hear that you feel I am away from you, as I have always been, and I hear your cries when the nurse closes the door for the night.
In between darkness and light, the warmth and the cold, I see glimpses of a time long ago. One moment I am a girl again in the floor of the library, the next my feet are hanging out the window of Clay’s car. My grandmother is holding my hand as I fall asleep, your father is kissing me in the rain. I have found the happiness I was always searching for. My son, I hope you find it much sooner.
With Love,
Your Mother