Page 60 of Too Old for This
Let it go. That’s what I said to myself. Walk away and let it go. And you know what? That’s exactly what I did, even though I was still angry.
But here’s my riddle: Is this one badly made sweatshirt? Or just another example of SO MANY badly made items we get these days, forcing us to spend more than if we’d bought something more expensive in the first place? Is that the plan here?
#RiddleMeThis #StuckInMyHead
Well. That post certainly tells me a lot about Norma Dixon.
I scroll down to read another.
We need to talk about saving. No, not money (but yes, money!) I’m talking about saving ourselves from everything—illness, heartbreak, stress, anxiety—basically, life! A friend of mine used to say she was trapped in this loop, always looking to others for help. She wanted someone to save her.
And you know what? So do I.
I know, I know. It’s not okay to say that. You’re not supposed to say the quiet part out loud, but dammit…maybe it’s not our fault. This whole idea that we’re helpless and need saving was pushed on us from birth. It’s probably part of our DNA.
We’re always looking to others for it. Parents, teachers, friends, spouses, our jobs, our leaders. Someone, anyone. Save us. Save ME.
I did that for a long time. Too long! And I looked in all the wrong places.
Maybe if I had looked in the right ones, I wouldn’t be where I am. Not that I’m complaining! I’m grateful. Ireally am. But don’t you always wonder about the paths you didn’t take?
I put the phone down and make some ginger tea to settle my stomach. I need it for what’s coming next.
CHAPTER 33
Three times. I dialed the number three times before pressingSend. Perhaps I’m not as brave as I used to be. When you get to the point of questioning your physical and mental fortitude, that doubt spreads into every decision.
But Detective Tula didn’t know that. He didn’t act like my call was strange, and he came right over to my house. Now he’s in my kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee.
“I hope you’re doing well,” I say. “Our last visit was a bit strange, with the funeral and all.”
“I’m still trying to process Kelsie’s death and…everything.”
“Did you have any luck with what you found? The earring and the fingerprint—”
“No. I have no idea what she was up to.”
“No?”
“You said you wanted to talk to me about something?” he asks.
“I thought it would be better to discuss this in person, because it’s a bit delicate.”
His dark eyebrows shoot up, and he leans back a little. A distinctly male reaction to the worddelicate. Women lean in closer, and men try to get away. It’s like they’re afraid the next word will either bepregnantormenstruation.
“Norma Dixon came to visit me yesterday,” I say.
Tula does not look surprised or confused at that name. So Norma has already talked to him. Good. I can work with that.
“When Cole and I first spoke,” I say, “he mentioned that Plum’s mother wasn’t doing well. Which is understandable, obviously, given that her daughter is missing. But I guess I didn’t realize how…unstable Norma is.”
Again, Tula does not look surprised. “Unstable how?”
“She seemed a bit erratic and paranoid and made a lot of wild accusations.”
“About you?”
“Aboutyou,” I say.
