Magical Midlife Madness (Leveling Up, #1)

by K.F. Breene

Then again, I was a great lover of Halloween and Diana was more of a Christmas person. Scary movies didn’t scare me. I could watch The Gremlins or The Exorcist without batting an eye. New horror flicks? I condescendingly judged the effects and the often-shoddy work of the director.

“While you were paralyzed with fear, your happiness suffered. That’s a call to courage if I ever heard one.”

Why punch me in the face with your wine when you can caress me, know what I mean?”

My instinct was to keep quiet. Like every woman I knew, I’d been taught to go with the flow. To suffer in silence. But guys like Austin needed to start thinking about how their actions affected others. Bad guys kept winning because good guys didn’t understand they were part of the problem.

“Unhand me, you fiend,” I mumbled, wondering which movie that was from. Or if it was from a movie at all. I suspected it was, if only because I felt certain a sword would have completed the scene.

When Jessie’s life had fallen apart, she hadn’t crawled under a rock in a puddle of tears. She’d risen up, grabbed life by the balls, and said, “Screw this. I’ll find something better.”

“Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table,” I replied. “Huh?” “He only recognizes the element of surprise.”

“I’m crazy?” I asked. “You started it! You started it, and I plan on finishing it. That’s just responsible fighting. That’s what a mother does, finishes things. Then tidies up. Trash can, unmarked grave, whatever. Garbage goes where I put it, and that’s that.”

“Really? Sensible? You idiots just about rumbled for no reason a moment ago. You’re all—I have a penis weee.” I waved my hands around. “No, it’s because you don’t listen to women. You pretend women are these mysterious creatures. And sure, when you don’t give a crap about something, it does remain a mystery. But it wouldn’t be so hard if you’d put half the effort into learning about us as we put into trying to learn about you. It’s your negligence that creates the problems.”

“What do you think it does to future men when you teach boys that being weak is being a pussy? Pussy meaning female, obviously. Or yelling at men who are doing poorly that they’re being girls? Or ladies? Had enough, ladies?” I squinted one eye at him. It was all my brain could muster for a glare. “Men are teaching boys that they are equivalent to ladies, to girls, when they’re at their worst. At their absolute weakest. And you wonder why we’re from different planets? You wonder why men so often disrespect women?”

“A good ol’ tap on the arm wouldn’t go amiss.” I tore my gaze away from the images, which almost looked like they were turning and twisting within the frame. Flying through the air, or galloping through the fields. It sort of reminded me of those posters of computer-generated patterns back in the day—when you looked through them, an image popped up. Except this was carved wood.

Magic eye books!

The signs of age didn’t diminish the bright intelligence in her sunburst eyes, the hazel flaring between long black lashes. Nor could it diminish the easy confidence in her bearing. Jessie clearly knew who and what she was, and liked herself more for it. She must’ve been a beauty in her youth, and her loveliness had blossomed with age.

“That’s the style of the doll. She has those lovely red-haired pigtails and quite the mean temper. She’s a tough one. The gingers always are.”

I had become fiercer, too. Being a mom really taught you the meaning of self-sacrifice and absolute courage. I would run into fire for my son. I’d step in front of a bullet. I’d throw myself at any danger, no matter how terrifying, just to see him to safety. And I’d do it all without blinking. The courage of a mother could not be measured. We toiled in the background, day in and day out, without thanks, so our children could become their best selves. We sacrificed ourselves for our loved ones, and we did it silently. Gladly. Full of love.

“Often we don’t see things about ourselves that everyone else finds apparent.

But the truth was, I didn’t feel accepted. I didn’t feel acknowledged for my service in raising the next generation, for my active role in the community, or even for being human sometimes. I felt utterly ignored. I felt invisible or, worse, frowned upon. Most of the time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw only my flaws. I saw all the things that advertisements and social media said was wrong with me. I wanted to focus on what was right about this version of myself, like the way I’d learned to take life a little slower and enjoy each moment. Like my appreciation for people’s differences, and for beauty found in unlikely places. For my friendships, new and old. I wanted it to be okay that I wasn’t worried about beauty anymore, or worried about looking young. I just wanted to look like me, however me looked in any given year.

Raise your voice until you are heard. Look however you want, be whoever you want, and demand people pay attention to you. Stop taking what you’re given, and demand the space in life you want.”