87. Not enough

Genre: Paranormal romance, drama

Type: Series

Characters: Tamsyn

Prompt: 55. Not enough

Word Count:  690+

Warning:  coarse language

Rating:  M- (coarse language, adult situations, nudity. N.B-Applies to the whole series)

Summary: And so it begins...Tamsyn returns home.

55. Not enough

________

Bridgeport, present day...

Tamsyn’s return to Bridgeport was as unobtrusive as her departure had been almost a year earlier. She saw no point in looking up old friends since she wasn’t planning on staying long. In fact if it all went well, three months from now, she will be in Barnacle Bay, enjoying her new life.

She wasn’t looking to start trouble; she just came to pick up what was rightfully hers. What should have been hers a long time ago!

Her first day back she rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town, under a false ID made out in the name of a Sasha Nielsen, her new ‘self’.

Once settled, she applied for filing clerk positions through an agency she knew recruited for hospital administrative staff. She knew she was taking a huge chance, and she might not get placed where she wanted, but she could only cross her fingers, and pray feverishly about it. Securing a job at Bridgeport’s Medical Center was crucial. Without the admin job, she might as well squash her maternal urges and return to Twinbrook.

By the end of her second week in Bridgeport, and still no reply from the employment agency, Tamsyn was growing restless, and she knew it was time to start working on her plan.

The job at the hospital would have made things so much easier for her, but without it, the plan was still doable.

Her first stop was at Avis Car Hire right at the center of town, a block away from City hall. She paid cash for the rental car and all her other amenities. She didn’t have to watch crime shows to know for a scheme like hers, credit cards were a big no-no.  She didn’t want to leave a paper trail.

Her next stop was a seedy internet cafe, tucked between Greg’s grocery store and Mike’s video shop on

Third Street. 

 

She quickly accessed Bridgeport’s Medical Center’s website, printed the visitors’ map, and tucked it safely in her hand bag. She’d go over it in the comfort of her tiny apartment.

She wandered the crowded streets, unfazed by the icy weather, until a Consignment store at the corner of third and Adam Street caught her eye.

“Can I help you?” The sales assistant asked as soon as she walked through the door.

Tamsyn shook her head, and made her way to the back of the shop, where she remembered the wigs used to be. She picked several different colors and styles, and dumped them on the counter. The same sales assistant quickly rang up her purchase, his curious stare fleeting from Tamsyn’s face to the wigs.

"That’s a lot of hair,” he mumbled, a small smile frozen in place on his thin lips. Tamsyn ignored his wisecrack. But as she left the shop she wished she hadn’t. She wished she’d said something, anything, just to erase the assistant’s suspicious smile.

The sound of happy laughter drew her to a rundown playground.  The place was filthy, the play sets were falling apart, and the few remaining trees stood barren, their long branches protruding forlornly, as if reaching out to someone to release them from their emptiness.

She sat on the cold iron bench and watched the small kids with mild interest. There were a few mothers pushing baby strollers, and a handful sat in a group, no doubt exchanging gossip, and paying little attention to their toddlers playing in the sandbox.

She remembered another park, in a different part of town, where Devon used to take her picnicking. They’d watch the happy families milling about the park, and she’d tell him how much she wanted a family of her own, and he’d artfully ignore the wistful look in her eyes, telling her they had enough time in the world for babies.

Yeah right, look how that turned out. She thought bitterly.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, oblivious to life passing her by and the handsome stranger sitting behind her, checking her out; she was deep in thought, planning and reworking her plan…

The plan made her nervous; it required too much work and too many trips to the hospital under different identities…And no matter how many times she went over the scheme, she felt it was not enough; she was depending on too many variables for her success. But she had two months to fine tune everything; two months to make it work… 

Continued in next prompt...Read more!