Wednesday, November 11, 2015

99. A Kid Driving a Tank
A week later, Tara decided to leave treatment to take care of business and her husband. He had gotten lost in his own housing plan.  A neighbor kid had found him crying on the swing set in the park and brought him home. She wanted to work from home to be with him and her son.
The dentist she’d had the affair with offered to let her continue managing his practice if they resumed their sexual relationship.  She counter-offered not to forward the dentist’s erotic texts to his wife and/or his wife’s attorney if he never mentioned the affair again. Tara could still play hardball.
 “When I was drunk, I was a train,” Tara said. “Powerful, but stuck on a rigid track.  I would have ignored my husband, plowed ahead with my life without him.  The dentist’s wife would have had those texts a minute after he threatened me.”
“What are you now?” I asked.
“I’m a tank, driven by a kid.  I’m still powerful, I work hard and get things done, but I can change direction. I can go new places.  The kid in me gets out of the tank and plays, mostly with my family.  I like being a kid driving a tank.”

Today I will be a kid driving a tank.
Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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