The Comfortable Shoe Diaries by Renee J. Lukas

Author:Renee J. Lukas [Lukas, Renee J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Lesbian
ISBN: 9781594934278
Goodreads: 21413893
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2015-02-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

“Anger Management”

“I hate my kids all the time!” Joanne blasted me on the phone.

“You don’t understand,” I interrupted.

“Oh, no, I think I do. It got a little hard and you freaked out. But I have to break up two Sumo wrestlers every day. I’ve had to pull broken glass out of Cabbot’s hand, and the little one likes to roll around in the grass with the dog. The grass in Florida! You know the kind filled with red ants and pesticides! I might as well just take the gate off the pool, for God’s sake!”

Then I knew why I was running away. I didn’t want to become like Joanne. She used to be so fun and creative and actually enjoyed life, well, when she wasn’t worrying about death. Then she got married, had kids and transformed into this Momzilla who was always roaring at everyone: “Get that out of your mouth! We don’t eat Elmo! What did you do to your father’s computer?”

I didn’t want that. And something else I realized. Once I knew I was gay and I was different, I embraced the opportunity to follow the road not taken. But let’s get real—it wasn’t for poetic, artsy reasons. It was because I thought maybe it would make me immortal. If I didn’t have a traditional marriage, I wouldn’t have that slightly faded forty-year-old wedding picture hanging on my wall reminding me of the passage of time when I was old and wrinkly. I wouldn’t get old and wrinkly if I didn’t get married. It made perfect sense in my warped mind.

And kids? Forget it. They’re the cause of aging, I’d confirmed. Gray hair, deep frown lines, all things caused by your new baby chewing on jagged glass or a toddler eating plants then running out into traffic—all the things Joanne was dealing with. Or just the really gross things that my OCD didn’t want to fathom—little Cabbot picking his nose at dinner and spreading boogers on the drapes. That was my earliest memory of him at age three.

Kids make you age. And that wasn’t going to be a worry of mine. Until it was.

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