Almost Perfect

ONE I am a rotten person. Biting her lip, Cleo Alyssum painstakingly printed this fact into her journal. She thought the whole idea of a journal of emotions about as silly as it got, but if the counselor wanted honesty, that's what he would get. She would do anything to transform herself into the kind of mother Matty needed. Anything. Of course, that's how she'd got into this situation in the first place. Sitting back in her desk chair, she gazed out the sagging windowpanes of the old house she was restoring. She missed Matty so desperately, her teeth ached, but the court had set December as the deadline for his returnprovided she danced to the steps the counselor called. Matty needed security and stability, they said, and her sister provided it. She'd tried suburban life with Maya, but she just couldn't hack it. Trouble found her too easily in crowds. Out here on the island she could get her head together without too many people in her face. She was far less apt to jeopardize Matty's return if she stayed away from people. These last few years she'd learned to restore old buildings, turning decrepit dumps into useful, viable businesses and homes, and she loved the satisfaction of seeing the visible results of her hard work. Too bad the difference she was supposed to be making in herself wasn't as obvious. The opportunity to buy a small-town hardware store had opened up just as she'd run out of buildings to restore, and at the time, it had seemed ideal. She knew the business inside and out, loved the isolation of the South Carolina coast, and when she'd found this run-down island farmhouse for a steal, she'd known she'd found a home. The beach cottage down by the shore might be beyond hope, but she hadn't given up on it yet. Maya and the kids might visit more often if she could fix it up. In the meantime, she was diligently turning the main house into the home she'd never known. She hoped. If she could only convince her federal supervisor she was a fine, upstanding citizen, she'd be free and clear soon, and almost in a normal world for the first time in her life. Having a job she could do without hassles from any boss, and a home where she could lock the doors against the world, she thought she finally had a chance of living a civilized life. She wasn't doing this for the feds, though. Matty deserved a sane mother, and she was doing her best, if the process didn't kill her first. At least now when he visited on weekends, she could give him her entire attention, and he seemed to be blossoming into a new kid with the change. Even Maya had noted how much happier he was. Cleo ran her fingers through her stubby hair and returned to staring at the almost empty page of the notebook. She didn't think she was capable of verbalizing all her conflicting emotions about her sister. Maya could have written an entire essay on how Cleo felt about her. Cleo would rather hammer nails. If she compared her mothering skills to Perfect Maya's, she was destined for failure. The muffled noise of a car engine diverted her attention. A fresh breeze off the ocean blew through the windows in the back of the house, but the only things coming through the floor-to-ceiling front windows were flies. Thickets of spindly pines, palmettos, and wax myrtle prevented her from seeing the driveway entrance or the rough shell road beyond. She didn't encourage visitors and wasn't expecting anyone. A lost tourist would turn around soon enough. She returned to the blank page of her journal and printed: People are pains in the a . . . She struck out the "a" and substituted "butt." She crinkled her nose at tRice, Patricia is the author of 'Almost Perfect' with ISBN 9780449006030 and ISBN 0449006034.