Not Ideal

By N.C. Thompson

Does a person's ability to cope with traumatic stress define their worth? What happens when a parent is unable to manage their own pain?

Kylie Brown lives in less than ideal circumstances. Her mother, Lacy, is unable to cope wi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yarrow Editing
• Release date: May 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088175279

Book preview

Part I

That was brutal, Amir said to Damien as they walked out of the factory after yet another twelve-hour shift. Want to grab a drink down at Jimmy’s?

Sorry, man. I can’t tonight. I’ve got to get home.

Oh, yea. The wife and kid, eh!

She’s not my wife, Damien said flatly. He rubbed his grease-stained hands against his torn, filthy jeans, and somehow both his hands and his pants were dirtier afterwards.

Amir shrugged. Either way, have a good weekend.

You, too. Damien nodded to Amir then searched through the maze of cars in the parking lot to find his own.

Damien unlocked the door to his battered maroon Grand Am and fell into the driver’s seat. He pulled out his phone to check the time. 11:40 p.m. Tossing the phone aside, he popped open the lid to the center console and lifted out the cloudy Ziploc bag hidden within. It was dark in the parking lot, and Damien was glad that he had packed a bowl while he was on break earlier. He took three deep hits before starting his car and took two more before he drove away from the factory.

The drive home was peaceful. Damien kept the radio off and the window open. The summertime air was heavy, and the putrid smell from the packing plant a half-mile away rushed in through the gaping window, but it was fresher than the stuffy factory that reeked of burning chemicals. The streets of the sleepy town were empty, so Damien didn’t bother with the stop signs. He blasted down the side roads then pulled onto the highway. Fifteen minutes later, he was back in Emmerville and turning onto Maple Road.

The car coughed and shuddered as he shut it down in front of the house. The pale green shack looked nauseating in the smalltown midnight lighting. Flashing lights caught Damien’s eye, and he saw a cartoon playing on the TV through the cracked panes of the curtainless window. Of course she didn’t put Kylie down for bed. He took one last hit then tapped his cashed pipe against the side mirror, tucked it and his lighter into their plastic sack, and shoved the kit back into its compartment.

When he got out of the car, Damien paused on the short gravel driveway and peered up at the sky. The streetlights dimmed the stars above, but he could still make out Orion, the Great Dog, and Taurus. As he searched for the other constellations that he knew, Damien heard a loud crash followed by an angry yell, which snapped him out of his moment of tranquility.

Dashing inside, Damien saw Lacy on her hands and knees next to a knocked-over side table and a pile of dying flowers surrounded by shards of glass. He was shocked that she was still awake. She was staining the linoleum with bright red smears of blood as she concentrated on pushing herself up and off the floor.

Hold still. Damien grunted as he reached down, stuck his hands in Lacy’s armpits, and lifted her up to her feet. Grabbing her wrists, he wrenched both of Lacy’s arms, so that he could see her palms.

Stop it! I’m fine, she said, shaking herself free from his grasp. She covered her wrists in blood as she rubbed them, obscuring the handprints Damien had left behind.

Damien jumped at the sound of Kylie’s piercing scream. The sleepy three-year-old had walked up behind him and had seen her mother’s blood.

It’s fine. Mommy is fine, Lacy slurred. She reached her hand out toward Kylie’s face, but Damien blocked her from making contact and placed himself between the two of them.

It’s ok, sweetie, Damien said, smiling down at his daughter. Mommy just has a few cuts. I will make her all better.

Kylie hugged her stuffed giraffe and sniffed. Mommy all better? She stared up at Damien with her misty hazel eyes.

Yep, he answered. Mommy is going to be all better. Go watch your show, okay? We will go to bed as soon as Mommy is better.

Kylie hesitated, but the flashing on the screen caught her attention and she toddled back to the nest of pillows and blankets she had constructed in front of the television.

Damien helped Lacy into the kitchen and asked her to hold her hands under the faucet. He rinsed the cuts and scrapes with warm water then picked out two small pieces of glass from her right hand and one from her left.

You won’t need stitches, he said, and he ripped off a handful of paper towels from the roll on the counter and gave them to Lacy. Hold these. The bleeding should stop soon.

I tripped.

Damien didn’t need to ask what happened. He could smell it on her breath. He ignored Lacy’s remark and took out the first-aid kit that he kept in the cabinet underneath the sink. A fiery knot of rage twisted inside his gut, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to smash the plastic box on top of the table