Page 52 of My Mafia Queen

I pack my travel bag with whatever I find in my closet and can fit in, and the more I do it, the more the idea that I’m actually going on vacation percolates my brain.

Is this really happening?

I smile.

I can’t believe it.

Honestly, I don’t even know how to do this vacation thing.

I wish I could take some pictures. Have a real camera with me. Maybe I’ll buy one. This way, I’ll have something to show Tina.

And Jen.

And my aunt.

The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

Oh, the money.

Should I leave it here?

Yes. Of course, I should. No one is going to touch it.

I count my money, tuck a few hundred bills into my bag, and leave most of it in the shoe box.

I spin around to put it back on the shelf in the closet when he looms in the doorway.

“The money…” I say, pointing to the shoe box.

“Leave it. You don’t need it,” he says, picking up my travel bag. “No one will touch your money,” he says, smiling. “Ready?” he asks, looking at me.

“Yes. Where are we going first?”

“You said you wanted to shoot a gun.”

“Oh… Yeah. Yes, I do.”

“That’s what we’ll do first,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door while I pick up my purse and pivot after him.

* * *

CARMINA

When your lifeis crammed with shitty little things and becomes an irritating fucking dot you can’t escape from, you have no idea how much you're missing out.

You can’t imagine that so many beautiful things exist outside your meager existence.

And sometimes, truthfully, it's a matter of logistics.

Nevada, to me, has always been a bordering state with wilderness––it’s true––and not much to do.

How wrong I was.

For one, my limiting beliefs had been dictated by the lack of money and inability to travel.

Honestly, I couldn’t tell if it was something I’d enjoy.

I’ve never had that kind of experience.

---