Page 87 of Jagged Line Paradise

“Hello, Ms. Briar. My name is Pete Jackson with Sunrise Valley Life Insurance. I’m so sorry to learn of the recent passing of your mother, Cindy Briar.”

I swallow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

What am I supposed to say to that?

“I’m calling because you are listed as her primary beneficiary.”

“Beneficiary for what?”

“Cindy Briar established a life insurance policy a few years ago and had listed you as the primary beneficiary.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The check will be mailed out in the next eight to ten business days, and I just wanted to reach out personally to let you know and to offer my condolences.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ll be receiving a check. Money to use for expenses and funeral costs for the deceased, or for whatever else you may need it for at this time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

He clears his throat. “It’s actually…it’s a rather small sum, Ms. Briar. I know your mother had limited funds when I spoke with her to set up the account, and she couldn’t afford much. The payout will be in the amount of $1,037.”

A laugh bursts from my chest. “Hold on. You’re telling me that my mother’s life is valued at a grand total of a thousand dollars?”

“I…um, no, of course not. That’s just what she could afford.”

I slap my hand over my mouth as another laugh escapes me. I glance at Andrés and the ultra-serious look on his face makes me laugh even harder. I’m practically cackling with laughter that I can’t control as I fall back onto the floor.

I hear Andrés say something to the man on the phone and thank him for calling, but I can’t stop laughing. He steps closer, looking down at me with his head tilted and his eyebrows dipping down toward his nose. He’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

And maybe I have.

He just looks so damn serious that it makes it all that much more hilarious. He should be laughing along with me at howridiculousthis all sounds. He just watches me as I let it all out, laughing for the first time in God knows how long. I laugh until it’s not funny anymore, then I sigh and let out a breath that’s heavy with all the pain my mother caused me when I was growing up.

I practically leap to my feet and push past him, moving toward my bedroom, and he follows. I spin around in my room, trying to remember where I’ve kept it hidden all these years.

“Are you okay? What are you looking for?”

I march toward my closet, shifting some of my old paintings out along the top shelf to reveal an old pile of clothes that hasn’t been touched in forever. The pile was, once upon a time, strategically placed to conceal a shoebox I didn’t want my mother snooping through. I push the clothes off the shelf and they drop to the floor. I grab the shoebox, spin, and take it to my bed. I open it and toss the lid behind me, sifting through a few odds and ends to find the old pink leopard print journal I kept as a diary when I was seventeen.

I sit on the bed and open it, flipping through, trying to find the one entry that’s making me die with laughter. It takes a few minutes because I don’t remember exactly when it happened, and my scribbling is somewhat difficult to read. “Here!” I exclaim when I finally find it.

Andrés moves to sit beside me as I start reading aloud from the page.

I can’t believe what my mothersaid to me! She hasn’t had a drink allday, and she just gets so mean when she’ssober for too long. She came into my room andasked me what I’ve been doing all day. Itold her I was hanging out with Andrés,andyou know what she told me? She told me Ishould hook-up with Anthony Johnson...AnthonyJohnson! She saidI should ask him how many guys I’d haveto sleep with to buy her booze for a day.She didn’t laugh, she wasn’t joking. She said, “Maybe you can get Anthony to manage your free timeand get that loser Andrésto pay for spending timewith you. Bet you’d be worth at least abottle of vodka for a good fuck.” My mother thinksI’m worth a damn bottle of vodka.

“A bottle of vodka, Andrés.” I look over at him as he sits beside me on the bed and I chuckle. “She told me I was worth a bottle of vodka. But she takes out a life insurance policy on herself as if her life was worth anything...anything.A thousand goddamn dollars?” Anger swells in my chest and I slam the journal shut with emphasis, tossing it onto the floor. “She wasn’t worth a bottle of vodka.Fuck!”

“Okay.” Andrés says calmly, and it pisses me off. I want his rage. I want his anger to match mine. “She was a bitch, no one’s denying that. But doesn’t it mean something that she put you as a beneficiary so you could get the money?”

I whip my head to the side to look at him, my hair flying in front of my face as I lean in close to his. My voice is an angry hiss, unlike anything I’ve heard from myself before. “It doesn’t meanshit.A thousandfuckingdollars? That doesn’t cover a single treatment she had. It doesn’t cover a quarter of the funeral costs. That money is a pittance for the lifetime of hurt she caused me, and it’s a fucking insult that she could even afford that much life insurance for what her life was really worth.”

He stares at me, his eyebrows a straight line, his forehead creasing as he tries to figure out how to handle me. I don’t know how to handle me right now, fuck all if he can figure it out. There’s quiet anger and heat between us as we stare at each other. As he figures out how to placate me from my spiraling rampage, I let my fury and pain build inside, swirling into a dark storm. Pressure builds within me, aching, burning to be released in a fury of long-suppressed emotional pain and torment.

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