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Hit the Road, Cowboy

Page 103

by Raya Morris Edwards

“Tell me, right now,” Mom says, handing me a glass.

I do, catching her up to where I left Hugh. When I stop, her jaw is slack.

“Okay,” she says. “Why don’t you call him?”

“Don’t have his number.”

“What?”

“Mom, we were in the same truck and tent for days. It wasn’t like we needed to call each other, so it didn’t occur to me.”

She studies me for a long moment. “Honey, are you wearing airport clothes?”

Looking down, I nod. “Yeah, it’s all I had.”

“Alright,” she says, placing her palms on the counter. “You go up to your room, and I’ll bring you some clothes. I bought you a new sweatsuit the other day when I was out shopping, I think it’s in the dryer still. Shower up. Hugh, order dinner. Then, we’ll talk.”

“Good idea,” Hugh says, stepping in.

Derry follows me up the stairs. I can hear them talking down below as I make my way through the enormous hall. My room is the way I left it last Christmas, except I can tell it’s been cleaned. Mom decorates our rooms the way she wants to, which is fine by me. It’s her house. Serena’s is bright pink with gauze, and mine is cream with a canopy bed covered in light blue curtains. The carpet is so thick, it comes up over my toes as I cross the room to turn on the bathroom light.

Wow, I look like I’ve been on a plane and then cried in the car.

I flip on the shower and strip down. The shower is enormous, the exact opposite of the shower in the motel.

My heart hurts.

I’ve been gone a handful of hours, but I already miss him. Stepping beneath the water, I close my eyes and let it all flood back. How solid he is, how his hair feels in my fingers, how warm his arms are.

It’s more than that, though.

My nervous system heals when he’s near. I don’t worry so much. It feels like being anchored safely in a harbor. Without him, I’m drifting, wondering who I am.

I can’t believe I did that.

I left the ranch. I saw and did so many new things. I thought I was brave enough to see this all the way through and go home. But I’m not.

“Honey!”

Mom’s knocking on the bathroom door. Startled, I lean my head through the curtain.

“Yeah?”

“I'm leaving your clothes on the bed.”

“Okay, thanks!”

Her footsteps recede. I wash everything and get out, wrapping up in a towel while I dry my hair. The clothes Mom left for me are a cream and pink sweatsuit. Everything is color coordinated with her. Smiling, I slip into the soft fabric, pull my hair up, and head downstairs. Everything smells faintly of food, so I guess delivery is already here.

“We got Italian,” Mom sings. “Oh, and I texted your sister.”

Guilty, I realize I forgot. Taking my phone out, I send a quick message to let her know I’m at Mom’s trying to figure things out. Hugh appears with a bottle of red in one hand. Mom already has three plates of pasta, bread, and veggies on the island.

“Alright, start talking,” Mom says.

“There’s not a lot more to say,” I admit.

Knock-knock.