Next chapter finally posted. Watch for things to start happening.
Here are the previous chapters:
Life and Death Choices Made Casually: Day Five
by Write and Left
“Angela, hurry or you will be late for church,” her mother called as she knocked on Bridget’s door.
“Oh yes, church,” she said. She got up, wrapped a robe around her, and took a shower. After putting on makeup and brushing her hair, she returned to her bedroom to dress.
It had been a while since she had been to church. In prison, she couldn’t go to the chapel with the other prisoners. They kept the death row inmates separate. Instead, a priest would visit her each week, but it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t even Catholic.
From seeing Angela’s clothes, she would have never thought the Murphy family went to church. She always remembered having to wear a dress to church. Her father had told her that only harlots wear pants to church. She never had the guts to tell her father that harlots probably didn’t go to church, but all her friends had worn dresses. She dug through the closet until she found a dress that didn’t look like an evening gown or didn’t look too casual. She finally settled on the one cotton dress she could find. After putting on a pull-up and pulling on the stockings, she pulled the dress on over her head. She looked in the mirror and twirled around. The only visible indication that she was well padded would be hidden when her mother zipped up the back of her dress.
“Are you ready for church yet,” her mother asked.
Bridget opened the door and turned away from her mother. “Need help zipping up,” she said, "then I am ready.
When she felt the zip being pulled up she grabbed her purse and an extra pull-up and tucked her protection inside incase she needed it later.
“Do you need a spare,” she asked, “or is that for just in case?”
“It’s for just in case, mother.” Bridget felt herself blush as she looked at her mother. Her mother wore normal pants and a shirt. She didn’t look ready for church.
“I’m surprised you are wearing that dress. I’ll have to take your picture in it and send it to grandma. She wondered why she never saw you wearing it.”
“I really don’t have very many church clothes,” said Bridget. She followed her mother down stairs. Her father stood by the door. He was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Her real father had always worn a coat and tie to church. She hadn’t been to church since the last time she was a senior in high school, so maybe things had changed.
“You look nice Angela,” her father said. "The boys in your Sunday school class won’t be able to pay attention to the lesson.
“Thanks, dad,” she said. “I’ll though I am sure I’m not the only girl that will dress nice.”
He shrugged and they walked to the car. Once they got to the church parking lot, things got complicated. Bridget did even realize they were at a church until she saw the sign above the door that said the name of the church. She was used to a church with a steeple and stained glass windows. This looked like a normal building. They walked into the lobby and her parents walked away. “See you after Sunday school,” said her mother.
Bridget looked around confused, but then saw Lia. “I’m glad to see you here,” she told her friend.
“You’re dressed up,” said Lia.
“Of course,” she said. She looked around and everyone seemed to be underdressed for church. Lia even wore blue jeans.
“You’re acting weird again,” said Lia. “Almost like you did since Wednesday. You are acting like you never been here before.”
“Let’s just go to our Sunday school class,” said Bridget. She followed Lia, but tried to make it look like she was not following her. When they got to Sunday school, the lesson was about forgiveness. She seethed with anger. She could never forgive the terrorist with the owl tattoos and those cold, gray eyes. She tried to tune out the lesson and think of something else. Finally it ended, and she rejoined her family in the auditorium.
There was none of the songs or piano music she was used to at church. The music was all done with guitars and there was a quartet instead of a choir. Instead of songbooks, the words to the songs were beamed onto a big Powerpoint screen. When the preacher got behind the pulpit to give a sermon, he wasn’t even wearing a tie. Bridget spent the entire sermon looking around, so she never did remember what the sermon was about in the first place, although the outline of the sermon was also beamed to the screen.
After church, everyone walked to their cars and traffic backed up around the parking lot. Bridget was ready for the bathroom, but she knew she could wait until she got home. She also looked forward to the smell of roast beef in the oven that would greet her when she got home, but instead of going home, her father parked the car in front of a restaurant. She didn’t recall her new mom putting a roast into the oven after all.
Bridget waited until they had sat down and ordered before excusing herself to use the restroom. Her pull-up was dry so far, but she didn’t plan on peeing in it on purpose. She used the toilet like normal. She returned to the table and started to eat her food.
“So, Angela,” said her father, “your mother tells me you picked a college.”
“Yes, I did: Washington State,” she answered. “It was one of two schools that offered me a scholarship.”
“Better not tell Lia,” said her mother. “I think she planned on having you as her roommate at Idaho State.”
“She’ll have to say something,” her father said, “I heard Lia saying the two of you would be looking for an awesome apartment near campus.”
“She never mentioned that to me,” said Bridget. “I just have to go to Washington State. I’ll have to find an apartment there, I guess.”
“Freshmen at Washington State are required to live in the dorms,” her father said, “at least when I went there.”
Bridget’s smile faded. The dorms. That would mean sharing a room and having to hide her bedwetting from a roommate. “It’s too late to change.”
“It’s not that bad,” said her father. “I met some friends I still hang out with in the dorms in college.”
“Are you worried about your nighttime problem?” asked her mother.
“Mother!” She couldn’t believe her mother had told her father.
“What problem?” he asked. He was probably just trying to find out to protect his daughter, but Bridget didn’t want him to know too.
“She’s just having stress about getting ready to graduate,” said her mother. “I just have been washing the sheets a bit more.”
She saw her father redden a bit. “Oh,” he said. “So what do you think of the Cougars?” He obviously tried to change the subject.
“Sounds like fun. I heard if Idaho State loses to the Cougars they have to walk all the way back to Idaho from Washington.”
“Watch out,” said her mother. “I recall seeing Washington State people walking back to their campus a few times. Idaho State sometimes wins.”
“One of the problems of a mixed marriage,” said her father. “My parents warned me about dating across school rivalries.” He put his arm around Bridget’s mother. The whole scene embarrassed her. Her real mother died when Bridget was still young, so she never remembered her father and mother flirting with one another. She just sat and ate her meal while her parents ignored her.
After lunch they drove home. Bridget changed into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working on her Spanish. It was hard reading through the entire Spanish book and her notes and remembering enough. She also looked over the conversation Lia and she had practiced until she could do it with her eyes closed. She still had no idea what she was saying, but at least the words were right.
She was about to put everything away in her bag and enjoy the rest of the evening when her cell phone rang. She flipped it open. “Hello?”
“It’s Lia,” said Lia, “You ready for our Spanish conversation?”
Bridget said her first line from memory. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Well we got to plan for Saturday,” she said. “I’m going to find a cute yet cool apartment in Moscow. It will be cool living right near campus and…” She went on and on.
“Moscow, Idaho might be a bit too far for me,” said Bridget. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am going to Washington State.”
“What?” asked Lia. “I thought we would be going to school together.”
“We’re still best friends,” said Bridget. “I don’t want to fight over the cute guys with you, so we’ll have to be on separate campuses.”
“But I’ll be alone. You’ve been my only friend since kindergarten. Who else will I be able to hang out with?”
Bridget sighed. “We’ll make new friends, and besides: we won’t be that far apart. Washington State and Idaho State are a little over seven miles apart. We go farther than that to go to the mall.”
“It just won’t be the same without you, Angela,” said Lia. “Well get rest for our Spanish conversation tomorrow.” She heard a click as Lia hung up.
She felt a little bad about upsetting Lia, because she had grown to like her over the past few days. She was great about the accidents she had witnessed as well, but Washington State was important in her quest to get the terrorist guy and keep him from hurting other people.
She took out a science fiction book she had gotten at the school library and read it.
Tonight, she realized what was going on earlier in the nightmare. She even managed to get the semi-truck stopped before it rammed the middle school. She steered hard to the left and the truck rolled to its side. It lost a lot of momentum as the metal screeched and groaned across the ground toward the school. It stopped right in front of the entrance to the school.
She had tumbled to the driver’s side window, her arm pinned between the ground and the overturned truck. The terrorist had fallen on top of her. The fuel tanks had rupture and she could smell fuel, but at least the students were safe. She felt the ground where her arm was pinned. It was wet from the spilt fuel. She tried to get up, but her arm was pinned.
The terrorist was still masked, but she could do something about that. She grabbed at the mask with her free hand and tried to expose the terrorist. He only laughed and reached into his jacket. Whatever he touched made a beeping sound. “Beep, beep, beep.” She grabbed at his hands, but he shook her off of him, but she revealed what he had exposed. A ticking time bomb strapped to his chest said, “0:02” seconds, then 0:01 second, then she woke up screaming.
When Bridget sat up she realized three things: first, she slept in her clothes, she saturated her pull-up, and she wet her jeans and her bed." Her hand brushed something hard. It was the book she had been reading the night before. She had fallen asleep reading. At least the book didn’t get wet or pee stained. She hoped the rest of her day would be much better.