Thievery.

It went DOWN that night. Like downhill, fast. Chey's parents held their crazy in until they got home, and Bill and Marta held theirs in until Ore had went to sleep. It was then that they unleashed all Hell. Everything from insults, to guilt trips, even threatening to kick me out of the house. I pulled my bags in attempt to leave when finally Bill gave up and tried to calm Marta, who was now begging me to stay.

          I felt like crap. I just wanted to live a little. Have adventure. The last thing I wanted was to destroy the entire family all because I wanted to see something new. My fears were realized when she had made things thus big of a deal. Bill backed her at first, until I bluffed them on leaving, then he caved. The whole time Marta's words lingered in my head. She had called me callous, selfish, childish and irresponsible. She had never in my time of being here made me feel so low. All because I want to have a life.

           I know she's paranoid and worried, but I feel there was little excuse for that type of treatment. The anniversary of my parents' death is only a couple weeks away, and it is always tough for me. It was hard not to punch her when she used that to try to twist me. Her behavior has cleared my mind though. As much as I live everyone and do not want to, I believe I will do my best to work full time again and get an apartment. I need out of here, in my own place. Ore was the biggest thing keeping me here, but I can still see him.

          "Mira." Marta knocks on my bedroom door and I hesitate, but answer and open the door. I'm a bit robotic, expecting more insults today or even confrontation.

          "Marta, come in." She inhales a sharp breath before perching at the edge of my bed.

           "Mira, I am so sorry. I-I did not mean those nasty things. I took my worries put on you, it was unfair. I love you." I stop short of her for a moment, but soon sit next to her on the bed and lay my head on her shoulder for comfort. She leans into me, and for a moment we sit in silence.

           "You do deserve to explore the world, and to get your chance at life. It's just, after losing so many loved ones I can't bear to let go. I feel like you are safer here, under my eye. I know I can't stop everything, but it feels like I'm going to lose you if I let go. Like someone or something will snatches you away from me..." Her knuckles whiten. "Like they took Leda, and Adam. Like I lost Ezra, and my in laws. Like we've lost cousin's on your side. I grieved your mother as much as Bill, but Ezra took half of me with him. You are supposed to grow old with your friends, your children should out live you. I've buried one child already, and I lost my very best friend when your mother passed."

          "I'm sorry."

           "Don't be, it is not your fault. I'm so blessed to have ever met Leda. I cherish all of our time together, and I know that part of loving is also grief. The love that's left when they are gone. Your mom was my own Chey. We did everything together. I started dating Bill and she immediately welcomed me into the family. We felt like blood sisters. We would joke, laugh and get into mischief. That woman would have fought a grown man for me. She was bold and playful, loved nature." She gestures to my large bookshelf, half filled with various plants. "I see much of you in her. I just want to protect you, in ways that would make her proud. I want her to know that I would die for you too,just as she..." She trails off and I hug her, pulling her head into my chest and gently rocking.

         "She would be proud. We've had our spats, but you feel like my second mom. I've never felt unwelcome here. You've never treated me any different, neither has Bill." She sits back up, seeming to somewhat calm.

          "This is going to be the longest week of my life. You're chipping away at me, I'm turning gray already."

           "Wisedom highlights." She rolls her eyes.

            "Dear God, are you Leda made over. She cloned herself when she birthed you." She stands to pull something out of the large pocket of her sweats. "I got you a battery pack, in case you are somewhere you can't plug in your charger. Also, I have something I want to give you of your mother's." She scoots a small battery pack and a ring towards me.

           It's a bit pitted, but dainty on its gold band. It looks like green calcite, with a little gold flower welded around it to secure the stone in place. It is beautiful and unique, something that makes you look twice, but not flashy or gaudy. I try to push it back to Marta.

          "It's gorgeous, but I wear little jewelry and I'm terrified I'll lose it."

          "Your mom was too. This, according to Bill, is a family heirloom. Handed down generations. Your, I'm not sure how many times, great aunt Elsie wore this ring supposedly. She had no kids of her own to hand it down to so it went to her nieces and other women in the family."

           "That's really interesting. Was it handed down to her?"

            "We aren't certain, but we had always heard it came from a suitor."

            "Thank you for letting me have this. Are you certain you don't want it back?"

            "Positive, and you're welcome. Your aunt Lora has a gambling addiction. I first was going to send it to her, as I'm not blood to your family, but I couldn't let her possibly fool it away. It was Leda's, and I felt protective of it. Imagine that." She smiles a little and leaves to fix Ore a bowl of cereal.

           I sit for a while just staring at the ring. I finish packing hygiene products and cosmetics, another sensible pair of shoes snd I go into the closet to change from my pajamas. Mom always loved flowy clothes, prints, dresses, and headbands. I remember vividly when I was small how she would wear sundresses and hair scarves to the grocery. The wind would whip the edges of her dress around and she looked ethereal. With this thought in mind, I grab a loose sun dress and sandals.

           I pull half my hair up, haphazardly and place a little patterned headband on top. I slip on the ring, and I go to the photo album and retrieve a small photo of me, mom and dad to take with me. I use light makeup and mist a little body spray before grabbing my bag and leaving the room. As I come through the house I stop in the kitchen to play with Ore for a bit before I have to meet Chey. He spits bits of cereal when he talks too fast and I dramatically pretend to dodge while he laughs. I keep kissing his forehead and messing up his ginger hair, loving the feeling of the strawberry stands around my fingers. He might be a stinker, but he's so adorable and his hair is like pure silk.

          "Are you sure you want to go? Do you have enough money?" Marta frets.

          "I should have plenty for what we need, Chey has as much put back as I do. We will do fine. Do you want anything brought back? A souvenir or something for the house?"

          "All I want brought back is you, and Chey, in one piece." She grabs a few  antacids from the cabinet. "I can already feel the ulcers!"

           We wait on Bill to get in from work and while we wait Marta runs back and fourth to the restroom and rubs her temples. Ore keeps snickering, no doubt enjoying his mom's nervous stomach. In typical child behavior he loves bathroom humor, so his mom's nervous bowels crack him up to no end. I even have to cover my mouth a few times to keep her from catching on to our amusement.

           "Ughhhh." She enters the room again and slumps at the table with her forehead on the wood. "Listen, children. I swear to you I could poop through a screen door right now." I nearly spit my soda as I try to contain my laughter, poor Ore holds his dides doubled over.

           "That's so gross mom! You always tell me not to announce it!"

            "Well, I'm sorry but I am miserable."

             "I'll bring you back some imodium."

             "Ha ha." She deadpans.

              Bill makes his ways into the house, closing the door behind him as he navigates. We make small talk at the table, but his face is drawn with worry. He's a man of little words, but I have never questioned his love. He shows his love through the way he cares for us, from pulling extra hours to provide even though we have plenty, to constantly checking smoke detectors and the security system. Even moving us all into shelter and guarding the door with his own body during tornado weather which is common in our area.

           "I am worried, and uncomfortable with the matter, but I knew this day would come. I'm sorry we made such a big deal, and that we've been so overprotective. You are precious though. All I have left of my brother, his prized 'possession'." He reaches for his wallet and tries to give me money.

            "I couldn't. You all do enough for me just letting me live here. I appreciate it though."

            "You aren't leaving without it. Take this. I'd feel better if you have it." I hug him, and he oats me stiffly, never one for hugs. I notice his tight smile though, and I know that I have made him happy. Marta and Ore join in, and Bill huffs as he tries to pry his way out of the huddle. He shakes his head in amusement and returns to his seat.

          "I love you guys! I will call three times a day at least. I will text too. And Ore, you better be good." I point at him. He ducks away mischievously and winks.

**************************************

          "It's crowded."

          "I hope it's not this crowded on the train. Maybe some of these people are just in the area for other things." A woman slams shoulders with me as she scurried past."

          "Maybe some of these people are assholes."

          "Nah. They the whole ass." We hold hands to navigate the crowd together, many unfortunately following us to the little building with merchandise and tickets. Off to the corner is a small concession stand, and we kill the wait by snacking and doodling in my sketchpad. Soon the engine and horn of the train can be heard. Chey wipes her crumby fingers on my dress and I playfully glare.

             We end up moving seats to am area where we can have a wall at our back. So many people roam about back and fourth from the gift area, some even knocking over our luggage. One particular strange man stands put above the rest, older and intriguing. A bit arrogant in his stride. He brushes too close to me in passing and I shudder.

          "There it is. Scenic Sanctuary. Are you ready?"

           "I am ready! Wait..."

           "What's wrong?"

           "Where's my wallet?"