Something To Dream On by Diane Rinella Read Free Book Online Page B

if to say, “So? They have also all been tarts.” Sometimes living with Etta is like living with my mother.
    My head slams back into the chair. My poor mother. When will I face myself enough to talk to her? The only requirement to return to her life was to hit that ninety-day sobriety mark. I’ve accomplished that and so much more. Still, I was such a monster. She raised me better than to be a heartless screw-up who basically abused her.
    But I have faced that aspect of my life. I’ve looked in a mirror and called myself out on being an abuser of both substances and people. I’ve called myself a heartless womanizer. I’ve listed the names of everyone I hurt and why, all while looking at my reflection. Still I can’t call my own mother—the woman who would forgive me faster and deeper than I could ever forgive myself.
    And there lies the problem—forgiving myself.
    A car pulls up, and my heart races in anticipation of seeing Lizetta. When she steps out of the car, I stand to greet her and my knees weaken.

    Thankfully, my pipe dream of seeing Jensen outside of his appointment persuaded me to bring a change of clothes. This time I arrive in a denim skirt and a pink, capped-sleeved blouse that is a step above a T-shirt. I also touched up my hair—not too much, just enough to make it look like I took it out of the ponytail and shook it into waves, like in a shampoo commercial. Adding a makeup kit to my purse paid off as well.
    When she sees me, Etta struggles to sit. Her tail starts wagging heavily to her right. Her bark warms my heart like I’m Mom coming home to her sweet baby. It is so darling.
    Jensen’s smile seems uncertain as he grabs the wagon and heads towards me. Since I can’t pull it together enough to talk to the guy, I came prepared with an icebreaker. I probably should have written notes on my wrist, too. “Hi. We just got a bunch of samples of ridiculously expensive dog food. I brought you some.”  
    “Wow, really? That was nice. I figured while we were out I would take you to dinner as a thank you for persuading me to adopt Etta. You hungry?”
    Whoa! Really? Dinner? Am I crazy for thinking this is kind of like a date? Yes, I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. The name Lizetta must be synonymous with famished.
    I nod to his inquiry and he motions us to head off. “Everyone's eating dinner now, so the kids will be out when we get back. You like burgers?”
    Another ridiculous question. I practically live at the burger joint down the road. “Yeah, Burger Hut sounds great.”
    “I have something better in mind. Have you ever eaten at Bert’s?”
    That place is awesome! Before it was a gourmet burger joint, it was an old-time diner. It still has the vintage decor. Since the area around it never really developed, it reminds me of a time capsule on a deserted road. It’s also totally overpriced because they use organic, grain-fed beef and nothing is ever frozen. Unfortunately, it’s also a couple of miles away. I choke back my fear of the trek ahead. “Sounds great.”
    Thankfully, I have the foresight to ask Jensen about that equipment in his kitchen. He briefly mentions leaving a band due to immense drama, and then segues into a rambling speech about his love of classic rock. That’s great because my breath is a little shallow, and I don’t want Jensen to realize how out of shape I am. Shoot, I don’t want to realize how out of shape I am. Just to be sure I don’t start huffing, I occasionally stop to point out distractions, such as a patch of flowers that catches my eye, along with a rabbit that runs across the road. None of these really warrant a stop, but taking an occasional break is all I need to hide that I wish he would walk a little slower. However, when we arrive at the restaurant, I’m all too ready to guzzle back down the calories I just burned in the form of a Coke.
    “I can't bring Etta in, so I'll go order for us and we can eat outside. What would you like?”
    A jumbo