Stop! This is the ninth episode!
Looking for the beginning of Kay’s Story?
- Kay (Part one) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Two) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Three) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Four) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Five) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Six) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Seven) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
- Kay (Part Eight) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com
The gravel in the driveway crunched as Kay pulled up to the apartment building she called home. She grabbed an armload of groceries and supplies from the passenger’s seat and was about to shut the car door when the bright yellow of a large envelope caught her eye. Of course! The stuff Makayla left for me. I totally forgot! Kay balanced the envelope on top of the pile and made her way up to her apartment.
Precariously leaning to one side, she jiggled her key in the lock until it finally turned with a screech and a click. The door swung open and a horrible smell hit her like a wave. She took a step forward, trying to see over her armload and tripped over a large garbage bag. The apartment shook with a resounding crash. Everything she was carrying skittered across the floor in different directions. Oh crud. Today was trash day.
Kay picked herself up, rubbing a bruising elbow and slammed the door shut. Gaaarrrhhhhh! Does anything ELSE want to go wrong today?
She began gathering her spilled belongings and popped the battery back into her cell phone. Please tell me it’s not broken…
She held down the power button and was relieved to hear the familiar sound of its startup chime. She reached over to set it on the table, but noticed the glowing missed call symbol on the screen. Five missed calls and three voicemails? Crud, crud, crud! I didn’t turn my phone on after I left the hospital this morning? Kay groaned and dialed the number for her voicemail.
“Hey, this is Makayla. I don’t know if you got a chance to look through the papers I left you, but if you really are interested in adopting or fostering the baby, you’ll have to move fast. She was assigned a social worker this morning and I think they are working on placing her next week. I want you to know, I’m calling as a friend. This is not official. Give me a call if you need anything. I think what you are trying to do is great. Okay, well, talk to you later.” Beep. Next message:
Kay, Honey, this is Mom. I got a call from Mrs. Peabody, you remember her, our old neighbor on First Street? She said something about you adopting a baby? What’s this all about? I haven’t heard from you in over a week! I really want to talk to you about all this, please call me. Love you, Darlin.”
Oh great. Just great. Kay’s relationship with her mom had been somewhat strained for the last few years. When Kay moved out on her own, her parents had separated and although they were still not divorced, their on-again-off-again marriage made things awkward. She loved both her parents, but constantly felt like she was on a tightrope between the two of them.
Kay hadn’t been close to her dad during her teens, but once she became an adult, he took a much more relaxed position than her mom. She found that for the first time since she was a little kid, she could actually talk to him and he would listen. When he did give her advice, it was just that. He gave it, and it was up to her whether she followed it or not.
Her mom however, seemed to get jealous anytime she heard of Kay spending time with her dad. That added on top of the fact that her mom liked to tell her exactly how to live her life… it made things much more stressful.
Beep. Next message:
“Kay, this is Mom. Honey? Why aren’t you answering my calls? Are you having some sort of crisis? Did I say something that upset you? Call me back. Love you, Sweety. Call me as soon as you get this message, understand?”
Kay saved her messages and hit the “end” button. She checked to see who the other missed calls were from. Surprise, surprise. They were from her mother.
Fine. I’ll call you, Mom. But first I’m going to eat something. Her stomach let out a loud growl of agreement as she reached for the carton of eggs.
To be continued…