Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [469]
She hung up before the string of prerecorded options, one of which would have allowed her to review her message, revise it or even delete it. She didn’t want to be faced with any more choices, not tonight. She was sick and tired of making decisions. That’s all she had done the last few days: The Serenity Package or the Deluxe-in-case-you’re-feeling-guilty Premium Package? White roses or white lilies? The walnut casket with brass trim or the mahogany with silk lining?
Good heavens! Who would have thought there were so many stupid decisions involved in burying someone?
Joan tossed the phone into her bag. She drew her fingers through her thick blond hair, batted impatiently at damp strands to push them off her forehead. She glanced in the rearview mirror, turning on the overhead light to get a look at her dark roots. She needed to take care of those soon. Being a blonde sure took a lot of work.
“You’ve become high maintenance, girlfriend,” she told the eyes in the mirror. Eyes she hardly recognized some days with new ravens cutting into what were once cute little laugh lines. Would that be her next project? A part of the new image she was creating for herself? God! She had even visited a plastic surgeon. What was she thinking? That she could re-create herself like one of her sculptures? Mold a new Joan Begley out of clay, dip it in brass, then solder on a couple of new attitudes while she was at it?
Maybe it was hopeless. Yet she did seem to be gaining control over the yo-yo dieting. Okay, control might not be the right word, because she wasn’t totally convinced she did have control, but she had to admit that her new body felt good. Really good. It allowed her to do things she could never do before. She had more energy. Without the extra weight she could get back to maneuvering around her metal sculptures and didn’t get winded every five minutes, waiting like her blow torch for more fuel to pump through before she could get going again.
Yes, this new slender self had an impact on her work, too. It made her feel like she had a whole new lease on work, on life. So why in the back of her mind was she unable to stifle that damn annoying little voice, that constant nag that kept asking, “How long will it last this time?”
The truth was, no matter how wonderful things were, she didn’t trust this new person she was becoming. She didn’t trust it like she didn’t trust sugarless chocolate or fat-free potato chips. There had to be a catch, like a bad aftertaste or chronic diarrhea. No, what it came down to was that she didn’t trust herself. That was it. That was the real problem. She didn’t trust herself and that was what got her into trouble. That was what had brought her to the top of this ridge in the middle of the fricking night, waiting for some guy to make her feel good, to make her feel—Jesus, she hated to admit it—waiting for some guy to make her feel complete.
Dr. P. said it was because she didn’t think she deserved to be happy. That she didn’t feel worthy, or some psychobabble crap. She had told Joan over and over again that it didn’t matter that there was a new improved exterior as long as the old interior didn’t change.
God! She hated when her shrink was right.
She wondered if she should try calling her again. No, that was ridiculous.