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I step out of the car, grab my suitcase from the back, and stop for a moment just to take a deep breath, savoring it: wet earth and pine needles, air cold enough I can feel it in my lungs. If I can’t get into the house, maybe I’ll just bathe in it for a while before I go find a place to sleep. I may have always hated this town—I’ve never cared much for its politics or the people in it—but beyond that, there’s a purity that lies in the places society hasn’t touched that can’t be matched or imitated. That’s what I miss.
The house is dark and quiet, but they haven’t changed the locks. My key turns the deadbolt and instead of waking them, I go upstairs and find my old room.
I’m shocked to find it clean and dusted; not a damn thing has changed since the day I moved out. I set my bag down and approach the old vanity lined with photos. Ty and Lisa smile back at me, and I swallow a lump in my throat.
I begin removing the photos, sliding them from where they’re wedged between the mirror and its frame, and then I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at one after another.
Do I still smile like this? I think I know the answer. What does this version of me know that I don’t?
But I know it’s the other way around—it’s what she doesn’t know. God, I was an idiot.
Next up is a picture of me and Ty at the lake. I think I’d give just about anything to have someone look at me like that again. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s something that can happen twice in a lifetime.
Maybe I was an idiot, but I did know what it felt like to be loved. I did.
I slip off my shoes and pants, then crawl under my covers. And I could almost swear, again, that I can still smell him.
I wake up the next morning in my old bed with old photographs clutched in my hands and puffy eyes.
It’s after 10:00 AM. I guess once I did finally sleep, I really slept.
I stretch, pull myself out of bed, and then put on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt from my suitcase. I take a few deep breaths and prepare myself for what waits outside that door. This late in the morning, they’ve surely realized I’m here.
I hear the TV downstairs as I approach the door, confirming my suspicions, then I turn the knob.
“So it’s true!” my mom shouts dramatically from downstairs. “The prodigal daughter has returned! Guess we didn’t win some kind of BMW sweepstakes after all, Emma. Although, I think that would be less surprising.”
“Good morning,” I say dully as I descend the staircase.
“Did you find the accommodations up to your standards?”
“They were fine,” I reply. “Hi, Emma.”
“Hi,” she says nervously as she leans against the counter. She smiles a little, barely enough for me to see that my mom got her braces. Good.
“Look at you,” I say. “You’re almost taller than me now.”
“I’m 5’6”,” she says.
“Well, then, you are taller than me.”
“Well?” my mom says.
“Well, what?”
“To what do we owe this great honor?” she asks. “You realize it’s been almost two years since I’ve even heard your voice.”
“I met someone,” I tell them.
As if knowing, she reaches for my left hand. “Yes, you did,” she says, inspecting the ring. “Good for you.”
“He wants to meet you—both of you. I told him I thought it was better if I came up here and…told you about him first.”
“Well, between the car in the driveway and the ice skating rink on your finger, he already has my approval. But—tell us about him. Who is this man that you respect enough to drag your ass home to tell us about him?”
“His name is James Ridgeway. He’s thirty-one, and he’s a lawyer. I met him through my boss, and we’ve been together for a year now. Um, I have some pictures on my phone,” I say, pulling it from my pocket. “And I leased the car, actually. It’s mine.”
“And she has a camera phone, Emma,” she says with a nod. “Isn’t that cool?”
