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Sure, they'd give you a friendly smile, even call you over. But make no mistake, there was always an ulterior motive.
In towns like these, gossip was the sole fodder for the people.
There was little else to thrive on except the enduring drone of their nine-to-five jobs, calls from family and office, and reruns ofOuter Banks,The Walking Dead, or, if you were feeling soppy enough,The Vampire Diaries.
I, for one, loved my reruns ofOzark. But I came from a different world.
A world where there the balance between survival and wonder was woven with the most delicate thread.
I had lived a literal action film with all the works, stomach-roiling suspense and back-breaking action included.
Even I craved the delicious ease of lazy afternoon gossip on some days.
Right now, though, it was the last thing I wanted.
So, when Mrs.What’s-Her-Name-With-Her-Vegetable-Stewimmediately appeared, my features scrunched with more ferociousness than a letter crumpled by its angry recipient.
It didn't help that she had more eyes than a potato. It was like she lived within the wind of any and all gossip.
"Boy, what's the deal with that little girl and you? Is she your daughter?
"You live with them two other boys, right? Ain't no harm in that, 'cause this is a free country, but you got a child too?
"Where's her mama, God rest her soul? You know how to cook for her? That girl needs plenty of good food to grow up strong and healthy."
These moments were not my finest, but a bit of the Southern blood in me definitely played a role in my response.
"Well, you sure do seem curiouser than a cat in a crawdad hole.
"I reckon that little girl ain't none of your concern, but since you're asking, yes, she's my daughter. That makes her all my business, and none of yours."
That sent her right back to her front porch, her face contorted and purple.
I went into the house, frustrated beyond measure. Why did Ellie keep doing this? Yes, we'd married on a whim.
We were young and stubborn, and at the time, love was different. It existed on the plane of appearances and heady, animalistic sex.
It took us an entire year to see we had less in common than a rooster at a hen party.
I rubbed my temple to thwart the beginnings of a stubborn headache.
What next?
Okay, maybe don't call her. She'll just make you angrier.
Of course, I called her.
And in her typical style, she answered my tenth attempt—probably because she realized I wasn't about to give up.
"Ellie, what the hell?"
"What?"
"I left you a message saying I was going on a mission, right? And I gave you the address for emergencies! Why would you leave Leia here with no warning?
"I've literally asked you to let her come live with me a hundred times—and you choose this moment?"
"Are you really asking me why I sent your own daughter to spend some time with her dad? And does she need anemergencyto spend time with you?"
