The Second Chance (Inferno Falls Book Three) Read Free Page B

approve my leaving because Ed wasn’t there. He was supposed to be, but he left. Nobody knows where he went. He does that. We think he goes on walks, but it’s possible he’s stalking pretty women as they pass, buying flowers and following them until they duck around a corner and manage to shake him.  
    “There was nobody in here. The place was dead. It was fifteen damned minutes, and I clocked out, so you didn’t even pay me.”  
    “You’ve been asking for a lot of time off.”  
    “Asking! Not getting!”  
    “But every week now. Several times a week, in fact.”  
    I feel my cheeks flush. I’ve been told I have a redhead’s temper, but it’s strange because neither of my parents have red hair and both are totally chill. Boring, yes. Conservative, judgmental, maybe even a little racist? For sure. But not angry and not apt to go off like I do now. This is classic Maya: last of the kids in line, the baby, the one who got to know her parents like wardens rather than buddies. No wonder I acted out.  
    “I keep asking because you never give me the time! Just give me one goddamned day off, and I’ll stop asking, Ed!”  
    “Why do you want time off so badly?”  
    I almost snort at that one. Of course he wouldn’t understand. Ed, as far as I can tell, has no one. He seems to enjoy reading thrillers and playing computer games, so my best guess is that he goes home each night and does both until he passes out. Although I’m sure there’s some disturbing masturbation happening as well, possibly with some unspeakable fetish.  
    I try to calm myself. I try to forget the food he’s threatened to make me pay for.  
    “I feel like I never see my daughter. She’s in school and then goes right to the after-school program.”  
    Vague sadness threatens, and I feel my anger turning to something else. I could lash out at Ed, but it’s me who’s done something wrong. Mackenzie stays with other people all day every day, and by the time I come home, I’m too beat to do anything with her beyond watching TV. I feel like she’s growing up without me, raised by a committee that I’m not even on. Once upon a time we were friends — and champ that she is, Mackenzie keeps trying to be mine. Every time I break a promise, she forgives me. Every time I make a new promise, she believes it.  
    And, I think, with a load of guilt, whenever I do manage a bit of energy, I spend it on myself. On releasing my tension. On finding a man to hold me, knowing it’s wrong, knowing what people would think. Every time, I make excuses: This is how I cope; this is how I was programmed; this is how I reacted when my parents tied me down, gave me the gift of shame, and sent me to Jesus. But it’s all a lie. I’m twenty-seven now. I’m a grown woman and should be able to feel an itch … and walk away without scratching it.  
    My daughter deserves better. She deserves all I have to give because she’s always given me all she has.  
    She didn’t ask to be born. She didn’t ask to grow up without a father. She’s my precious little gem, and I refuse to let her down anymore — be it due to my own weakness or to a tyrant like my boss.
    That’s why today, fuck it all, I’m going to rent her one of those little boats. We’re going to get ice cream. We’ll feed the ducks and talk heart to heart about all that matters to her, all that bothers her, all she feels, and all she fears. We’ll even go roller-skating afterward. Because today’s mommy-daughter date isn’t just about today. It’s about all the times I’ve had to bail for reasons she pretends to understand but doesn’t.  
    “This is the job,” Ed says. “You took the job, so you can either do it or find a new one.”  
    “I’m just asking for some flexibility. A weekend day off here and there. I’ll work longer shifts if they can be less frequent. I just need the freedom to leave fifteen minutes early when Mackenzie needs a ride, or when there’s … ” I