Page 31 of My Better Life

That’s when my world screeches to a halt.

“Kids?”

“Course. Elijah, Tanner, and Shay. Lord almighty, Billy. How hard did you hit your head?”

She leans forward and brushes her fingers, cool as a spring morning, over my forehead.

I stare at her with rapidly expanding horror.

We’re married?

We have kids?

I’m…Billy?

I grasp my pounding head in my hands.

“I’m Billy?”

The woman, Jamie, drops a sharp peck on my cheek. Her innocent smile has a jagged edge.

“Always the jokester. Come on, honey, you’ve got work in the morning. Pumping the poo outta the outhouses.”

And that’s when I know. The reason I can’t remember who I am is because I don’t want to. An unattractive wife? A station wagon? A horde of snotty-nosed kids? Pumping poop?

Apparently, my life is hell.

And by the stubborn look on the woman’s face, this nightmare life of mine, it’s not going away.