Passion » Max Regnery

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I wonder, just how many others were like me? How many stayed up until the late hours of the night, staring into the darkness while they thought about all of their life choices? I wonder...

Blake Whitmore, a girl of only twenty-three, laid tangled in her sheets with one arm behind her head and the other casually resting on her stomach. She laid there, here mind going slightly blank as she finally closed her eyes. Of course, she would feel the sudden urge to sleep now. Wasn't that how it usually went? She would stay up all night anxious for what was to come the next day only to find herself tired and ready to sleep minutes before she had to get up.

She inhaled deeply, opening her eyes again. Perhaps she was better off just getting out of bed. She wanted to take a shower anyway, may as well get one in while she had forty minutes of sleep left.

Slowly, Blake removed the cover from atop her body, she then sat up in her bed and swung her legs over the edge. The cool faux fur rug that laid beside her bed, tickled the bottom of her feet as she sat them down. As she sat there, she felt the chilly air nipping at her exposed legs. Thank goodness she had made the decision to place the rug directly by her bed, she could only imagine just how cold the wooden floors would be. 

Behind her, Blake felt the slight tugging of her sheets and a faint jingling could be heard. Out popped a small four-legged pup with large ears and a stub for a tail as she fought her way free from her prison so that she could see what was going on.

Her human mother, Blake, reached over toward the nightstand where a lamp sat in the dark waiting to be tapped on. Blake tapped the metal part of the lamp and then turned around once the light was on to see a tan and white corgi with large twinkling brown eyes staring back at her.

She smiled as she extended a hand out to her furry child and scratched between the pup's ears. "Morning Valeera," she said, slowly standing up, her mattress creaking as the springs set back into place. 

Now standing, Blake reached down beside her night table to pull on her faux fur booties and then reached toward the chair beside the table to pull on a long, thick wool cardigan. Back on her bed, Valeera stood up and stretched. Once the two-year-old corgi was done stretching, she shook her entire body and then hurried to the edge of the bed where she wiggled her butt while waiting for Blake's next movement. 

But before Blake could even reach the door to open it for the little dog, it opened itself to reveal a short, plump, wild-haired woman in her late fifties. She wore a bright red trench coat, beige jeans, and dark leather riding boots. On her left, stood a small bat eared silver French Bulldog named Daisy and on her right a large bloodhound by the name of Boris. Blake's blue eyes then traveled back up to see her mother cross her arms over her chest and cock her hip to the side. 

"Good," Blake could tell by her mother's tone of voice she was not happy about something. "You're awake."

Confused as to why she wouldn't be awake, she said, "Yes?" Blake then reached out for her dog only to find that the corgi had left the room the moment the door had opened, leaving Blake to grab at the air. 

"Well," the elder woman uncrossed her arms and stood up perfectly straight, her intense gaze piercing Blake as if her eyes were daggers. "What are you waiting for? Get dressed." She turned on her heel to leave, but then stopped. "You didn't plan on eating, did you?"

"Uhm?" Blake stared at her mother while she scratched the back of her hand and thought long and hard about her mother's question. If she was being honest, she had completely forgotten about eating due to being so anxious about today. "Maybe I'll make a smoothie to take along with after my shower."

"You don't have time to take a shower," the older woman barked. "I have to be into town by six, so if you want me to take you to Pine Hollow, be in the car by five!"

Without another word, Blake nodded her head slowly. When she could no longer see her mother's flaming red coat or hear the clicking of dog nails on wood, she tilted her head back and tried hard to blink back the tears. Why did her mother have to be such a bitch?

Taking a deep breath, Blake turned around to face her closet. So showering wasn't an option this time? Perhaps it was for the best, after all, she was going to work in a barn. Barns exactly weren't the cleanest of places. So showering before did seem a little silly. 

Blake walked over to her closet, opened the door with one hand since she was scratching her head with the other, and she peered inside the dimly lit area. What exactly did one wear to the barn? Certainly, they preferred old clothing that they didn't mind getting dirty. If that was the case, Blake's closet was filled with old clothes, but did she mind them getting dirty?

After what seemed like an eternity of deciding, Blake selected a pair of old dark denim pants and casually tossed them over to her bed where they had landed perfectly until they slid off onto the floor 

Great, now they will be covered in dog hair, she thought to herself as she turned back to her closet. 

It was winter here in Virginia, which meant a long sleeve was more than necessary for her to wear. Her problem? She actually liked her long sleeves, so which one did she wear that she wouldn't mind getting dirty?

After carefully selecting a blue Salt Life shirt she bought years back when she lived in Florida, Blake too, tossed that over toward her bed. She didn't care at this point if that shirt made it to the bed or the floor, she was already digging through her sock bucket to find thick enough socks that could protect her feet and keep them warm in her boots. Except, what kind of boots would she wear? Her's weren't exactly horse material. Well, the cowboy boots were, but she wasn't trying to look like a total noob, especially when she would be wearing jeggings.

So instead of the most obvious choice of shoes, Blake selected a pair of worn black sneakers that she didn't mind if a little horse manure got stuck between the grooves. They were comfortable on her feet and gave her some protection that she would need if she were to work with horses today.

Outfit now selected, Blake removed her previous clothing and got dressed. By the time she was done, it was nearly four fifty and she could already imagine her mother impatiently tapping her foot in the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest and an irritated look on her aged face.

Before leaving her room, Blake reached for her old camouflage hoodie  -given to her as a Christmas gift from her ex's parents years ago- and collected her purse before turning off the light and walking out of her room.

"There you are!" Was the first thing said to Blake as she entered the kitchen and set her purse down.

"Here I am," she smiled awkwardly as she opened the fridge to pull out a bag of frozen fruit.

"What are you doing?" Squeaked her mother as she turned around to find Blake in the fridge pulling out the carton of almond milk.

"Making a smoothie?" She replied slower than she wanted, making it sound more like a question as she turned to look at her mother.

"No! No! No!" Her mother crossed the floor in a matter of seconds, snatching the carton and frozen fruit from Blake's hands and then shoving them back in the fridge. "You should have gotten up earlier if you wanted food. We're going to be late, now come on!"

Her mother picked up her keys and purse and quickly stormed out of the kitchen, the garage door banging against the concrete wall as she opened it. Blake looked around the kitchen, forcing herself to remain calm and not to cry as she reached for her own bag and followed her mother.

Why did things have to turn out this way?