The Product of a Broken Heart by Crystal Ismael

Author:Crystal Ismael [Ismael, Crystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532074127
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2019-07-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Getting out of the car that day after leaving the hospital, I dreaded going in and hearing my mother say over and over how wrong what I’d done was. As she opened the house door, I looked in, as if questioning if I wanted to enter. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked in, eased my way to the couch, and sat down, looking blankly at the television show that my mother had clicked on as she entered the living room.

“So what is your next step, Dana?” My mother called out from the kitchen, where I heard her preparing lunch, slamming pots and pans on the stove to organize everything she was going to use. “Hmm, where is my skillet?” she said to herself and then yelled, “Dana! did you hear me?” over the racket in the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” I replied calmly, thinking I was just trying to get over the fact that I could have been dead and wasn’t quite in the mood to be asked about future plans yet. I was trying to wrap my mind around what I was going to tell my boss about what had happened, hoping she wouldn’t use this as a reason to fire me, knowing I needed the money. Christian was not helping and from what it looked like, he had no plans of helping.

I heard the phone ringing in the kitchen.

“Hello,” my mother answered. I could hear the normal chatting between her and the caller until she blurted out, “Yes, Dana is here.”

Now who can this be? I wondered. I was not in the mood to talk to anyone and certainly didn’t expect to.

“Dana!” My mother yelled over my silent thoughts.

“Yes.” I answered, my tone letting her know I was not up to talking.

“Dana, the telephone. Do you feel like talking?” she screamed out.

I didn’t know if that was a joke or if she had really just blurted that out on the phone. Even if I didn’t feel like talking, she made it obvious that I need to get up and come to the phone whether I wanted to or not. I realized it was no longer an option as I got off the couch and tarried into the kitchen.

As I walked to the phone, I could see that my mother didn’t look like a happy camper. I gently took the phone from her hand with my eyes still on her face, contemplating the hello on the other end.

“Hey, Dana.”

It was Christian, which explained the look my mother had given me as she held out the phone.

“Yes,” I replied.

“How are you doing?”

I rolled my eyes and placed my hand on my hips, thinking I could no longer do this and this conversation was going nowhere. I softly told him, “Don’t call me anymore if it doesn’t have anything to do with the kids, I can no longer go through the ups and downs with you Christan. You have let me down time and time again but this is the last.

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