Page 22 of The Chosen Two

And yet I can’t deny the world needs her. Although I resented having this role forced onto me too, I am glad to be assigned as her docent. I want to give her every chance I can to succeed and every opportunity to live as full a life as she can possibly hope to live now that her life has been altered beyond her control. I need to be a better docent for her. More studying, more research, more creativity in training. Miranda needs to be prepared for all the inevitabilities, and it’s my job to ensure that happens. So George, you need to step up.

And in that vein, I’m going to do some reconnaissance work this weekend to get ahead of this Jinn problem we seem to have. Maybe I can even take care of the whole issue without Miranda needing to get involved at all. She can just focus on training for the next big bad we need to handle. Well, she needs to handle.

Chapter 9

Miranda

AssoonasI’mdressed in clean clothes, George agrees to give me the weekend off. We plan to meet Monday to start reading through his library of reference books so I can be better prepared for my next mythological encounter.

Then, after we each consume two giant cups of coffee, he drives me home so I can change into my own clothes before I pick up the kids. By now, my muscles have let the day’s activities sink in, and they are aching. I move at the slowest pace I have ever moved as I make my way up the front steps.

Behind me, George yells, “Go take some ibuprofen!”

I turn to flip him off, but it’s a very slow turn, so he’s already driving away by the time I face the street.

Once I’m in my own house, I lean against my locked door and breathe. Now that I’m home I hear my stomach growling. In fact, in this silent house it sounds uncannily similar to the minotaur’s snorts. I down a yogurt, take two painkillers, and pass out on the couch. I have to leave in an hour, so I don’t even try to make it to my bed because by the time I hobble up the stairs, I’ll already have to come back down.

My alarm goes off too soon for my liking, and, for a moment, I wonder what would happen if I didn’t show up to pick up my kids… Dumping that thought into the trash, I force myself to my aching feet and head to the car.

***

My children watch me with varying degrees of concern as I move slowly around the kitchen. As I open the cabinet to look at my pots and pans, I stop. This is not going to happen.

“Okay. Pizza or Chinese? No way am I cooking.” I’m not moving, bent over to look in the cabinet, not sure I can stand back up.

“Um, Mom, what is up with you?” asked Jessie, ever the tactful one.

“I …joined a new gym. New exercise routine. I’m just a little sore is all. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

I don’t think any of my offspring actually believe me.

On the plus side, the evening is pretty uneventful, or maybe it just feels that way because I want to take more pain killers and climb in to bed by six o’clock. I am so drained I don’t know how I make it through getting everyone to bed. I tell myself I’ve done enough for today and give myself permission to leave cleaning up downstairs for tomorrow. I mean, I did kill a minotaur and all. I deserve to turn in early tonight.

I check my phone. I haven’t heard from Jake all day. I decide I don’t want to talk to him anyway. We’ll talk when he gets home. I can’t tell him about all this on the phone when he’s hundreds of miles away. We’ll talk when he’s back. Whenever that turns out to be. For now, I just need sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

As I change into my pjs and brush my teeth, I can't stop thinking about how I haven’t heard from him at all. Not even a quick good night text. That’s unlike him. I grab my phone and walk to my bed. Trying to be the bigger person, I text him:

Hey. Sorry for fighting. I hope you’re having a good trip. Let me know when you’ll be home. Love you.

I climb into bed and plug my phone in on my nightstand. As I turn off my bedside lamp, I hear a buzz.

Sorry too. Just busy here. I should be home Sunday. Wrapping up tomorrow. ?? Love you, too.

I fall asleep smiling to myself. Then I remember what he said about me getting a job, and I still have a whole prophecy type thing to somehow explain to him when he gets home. So maybe the smile is a little premature.

***

When I open my eyes Saturday morning, I’m grateful my kids are finally old enough that they let me sleep in sometimes. 9:30 a.m. That was practically unheard of a few short years ago. I stretch, well, attempt to. My body craves it, but as soon as my arms are over my head, “Aaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggggg” escapes at such a volume that Phoebe and Natalie run in seconds later.

“Mom! Are you okay?”

I’m honestly not even sure which one of them asked because I’m still seeing stars from the pain coursing through my entire body. I can barely respond through gritted teeth. “Yes. I’m fine. Just…still sore from my new gym, I guess. Actually, I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get out of bed.”

“Oh, poor Mommy! We’ll get you some breakfast so you can take a pain killer!”

I can’t turn my head, but I know this is Phoebe. She’s the most nurturing one of my children and the only one who would have thought to do anything like that for me.

While she runs back downstairs to gather sustenance for me, Natalie rummages through the linen closet for the heating pad. Of course, since it won’t cover my entire body at once, I’m not sure how much help it will be. Natalie finds the pad and brings it to me, plugging it into the power strip I keep tucked underneath my bed. “Where does it hurt worst, Mommy?”

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