Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: FERHOODLE (confuse or mix-up) (03/03/16)
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TITLE: Flummoxed | Previous Challenge Entry
By Hannah Gaudette
03/09/16 -
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My edgy anxiety pricked at my nerves like Mom's ancient sewing pins. If I hadn't been so entangled in worry, I might have actually processed the words she was saying beside me.
Her clear, classical voice knifed through my haze. “What do you think of that, dearest?”
I snapped to attention and glanced at her from behind the steering wheel. “What?”
She frowned, her wrinkles knitting together. “Haven't you been listening, Naomi? I was just saying that we should get something special for dinner tonight. Maybe fish?”
An invisible spider crept up my spine. We'd had this conversation twice today already. Just answer, girl. “Good idea.” I turned the car inside the Hannaford parking lot.
“Have I thanked you yet for asking me to come along?”
I cringed at her words. Here we go. For starters, I hadn't asked her to come – she had begged me. Secondly, she'd already thanked me about half a dozen times. If she was slipping back into her realm of forgetfulness this early in the morning, what should I anticipate inside the store?
We entered the sparsely populated establishment, and Mom quickly zoomed away with a cart. I had to hand it to her, she walked pretty good for a seventy-six year old.
“Meet me at the check-out in an hour!” She gave a wave of her hand and disappeared.
I released a small groan. One whole hour? I was a twenty-minute shopper. Get in, get food, get out. The opposite of Mom. Pouting, I started toward the deli, silently ruing the moment of my own weakness that brought her along. Sure, I was very glad she was here to visit and I knew I was acting a bit mean, but didn't I have enough stuff in my life to worry about?
Lord, what have I gotten myself into this time?
As predicted, I completed my methodical shopping venture in less than twenty minutes. I checked out, paid, and put the grocery bags in the car, moving with snail-like motions to bide my time.
When I returned to the store to search for my mother, I found her exactly where I'd feared – the soda aisle. Mom hates soda. She claims the devil invented it. My heart dropped like a bag of rocks from a skyscraper. I was sunk.
Keeping my best genial expression, I strode toward her, catching the look of puzzlement on her face. “Looking for something?”
She glanced my way, a bit of relief lighting her eyes. “This is a peculiar store, Naomi. How do you find your way around? I need some breakfast cereal.”
“That's a few aisles back. I'll go get it.”
“Oh, no, dear. I'll get it. You finish your shopping.”
I held back a sigh. “Uh, that's okay, Mom. I'll go get the cereal.”
I hurried to the correct aisle, grabbed two boxes of no one brand in particular, and returned to the soda. Mom wasn't there. I glowered at the ceiling in exasperation.
For the next half hour, I trailed my mother through the store, occasionally jogging to ensure I didn't lose her again. She looked for the cheese in the freezers, the bread in the meats, and the cocoa in the produce. She stopped every ten feet to remind me in her sweet way that she didn't need any help.
“Mom,” I said as she started looking for the jam in the juice aisle, “I think we need to get going.” My voice barely restrained my frustration. I was a balloon ready to pop.
“Oh, you go on out to the car, Naomi. I'll be with you directly.”
I shouldn't have been so relieved at being dismissed. Even though I knew she shouldn't be left alone, I bolted out of the store and into the car. Freedom!
I'd had no idea two years ago how fast Mom's mind would go. I really did miss her.
I opened the vehicle's door and sank with a deep sigh onto the seat, calming my nerves. As I settled in to wait, a cold shiver of incomprehensible panic overtook me.
I was in the wrong car.
Mom tapped on the window, her brow furrowing as she stared at me. “Naomi, what are you doing in that car?”
Fiction
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