Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

And for my awful high school English teacher, Mr. C, who looked me in the eye at sixteen years old and told me I’d never be a good writer. Thanks for the motivation.

And that voice? It’s the furthest thing from girlish. That voice is all grown-up. It’s not giddy or overly bright. It’s all honey and spice, smooth with a hint of heat—borderline sensual without even trying.

The only thing he sent me into the world with was a defiant backbone, unfailing optimism, the desire to chase my dreams…and a few daddy issues. But none of those issues are actually him. Because I haven’t spoken to the man in eight years.

I can’t handle people not liking me. That’s the stuff that eats away at me and keeps me up at night.

My arms pump as I work my way farther down. This is me. I still want to be silly sometimes. I love to explore. I like to look at the glass as half-full. Hell, I will happily make lemonade.

“And I allow myself to acknowledge that I am not every person’s cup of tea. Maybe I am more than they can handle. And that’s okay because I’m quite fond of myself and no one can take that away from me. I’m at peace with who I am, so what you think of me doesn’t matter.”

If I live, I’m coming after you.

Gwen: In all those zombie movies and shows, I will never understand those people’s obsession with staying alive. For what? Living in a zombie world where everything sucks and all is lost? No, sir. Not for me. Peace out, bitches. It’s been a slice. On to the next.

“Or what? You might man up and take something for yourself for once?”

Sometimes things won’t just fall into your lap because the universe provides or whatever.”

If you want to be Gwen Dawson, mother of raccoons, then I won’t stand in your way. I support you in that venture. You can be seen and heard in my house. And

“Freaked out? Are you kidding me? This is amazing! And if I die?” I wink at him. “What a way to go.” He volleys back with my own words: “But what if you live?” I just shrug, letting a suggestive smile curve my lips. “Guess I’ll have to come up with a new great way to go.”

“My head’s been in the gutter since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

purpose. I won’t sign up for walking around on eggshells in my own home, trying to figure out what’s wrong or if I’ve offended you. It’s stressful and unhealthy, and I’ve lived that story already. I’m not doing it again. I deserve more than that. But most of all, Bash, you deserve more than that.”

“You’re a fucking wild card.