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Rose Wright
Everything I owned was in my 2004 Nissan Altima.
And when I say everything, I literally mean everything.
My clothes. My accessories. My movies, electronics, and memorabilia.
And, in the front seat, most importantly, Shiloh.
My German Shepherd.
Technically, I had more things back in Utah, but as far as I was concerned, I was never going to see those items again, so they didn’t really count. I didn’t want to see them again, anyway. To go back and get them would mean going back to the lowest point in my life, and I’d already made an enormous step forward by leaving that hell. I didn’t need to return to it just so I could have a pillow or a TV or something else that would ultimately prove unnecessary or replaceable.
Sitting in the front seat, with Shiloh panting beside me, I looked at him and smiled.
“I know you want some,” I said, nodding to the In-n-Out fries in my lap. “But I don’t think this salt is good for you, buddy.”
Shiloh whimpered, which made me laugh and roll my eyes. Shiloh could be a dramatic doggy, but he was my doggy, and if he wanted to be dramatic, well, damnit, he could be as dramatic as he wanted to.
If it made me a little less crazy and a little less stressed, all the better.
Shiloh then put his paw on my shoulder, scratching me and demanding fries.
“Dude!” I said with a laugh. “Okay, fine, you get one fry.”
I gave him the one fry. He sniffed it, opened his mouth slowly, as if expecting me to pull it back at the last second, and then chewed it, dropping it to the floor. It was so silly, and I couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably.
The ridiculousness and lighthearted fun reminded me...
It reminded me of the good times an old flame and I used to have.
A flame that, I believed, was still living in Springsville.
Unfortunately, for as good as the relationship had been in certain spots, there was also no denying the fact it had ended in utter chaos and drama. There were faults on both sides, but much of the fault laid in the fact we were both immature and unwilling to have tough conversations. Chaos in my life didn’t make things any better and, looking back on it, it was small wonder that it ended.
That didn’t mean that now, though, with the benefit of maturity, I could see if we had both grown up, it could be something great. I could only speak for myself, but the way life had kicked me in the ass the last few years, I felt pretty sure I could say I was in a much more mature place than I was before. I just hoped LeCharles was too.
I decided I had nothing to lose. I still had his phone number saved in my phone for no reason other than I had held out hope that we could someday be friends again. That day, I prayed, was now.
I sent off two quick text messages before finishing my food. Shiloh continued to beg, and I couldn’t help but further spoil him. It was a welcome distraction from thinking about the alternative.
Eventually, with no food left to finish, I crumpled up the In-n-Out bag and leaned over to hug Shiloh before kissing him.
“We’re almost there, buddy,” I said. “And when we get there, I’m going to take you on a long walk through my old town.”
It may be in a more ghetto part of town than before, but it’s still my roots. It’s still home.
I drove to the address I had listed on the southeast side of town, with Shiloh curling up into a ball as best as he could in the front seat. He was not the kind of dog that liked to hang his head out of the window. On the contrary, he loathed car rides. I think given the option between a visit to the vet and an hour-long car ride, he would choose the vet visit. At least the vet could be friendly and give him scratches on the ear.
When I pulled up, the apartment complex looked even worse than it had in the photos—and let’s just say the photos weren’t promising either. It felt symbolic of my entire return to this town, really. I was only here because no place else would take me in after my past, although I really hoped that didn’t mean it was going to be all bad.
Even with my car engine on, I could hear the sound of multiple motorcycles just a few blocks over, driving up and down the streets, their engines crackling and popping. It was just the kind of obnoxious noise I hadn’t had in Utah—and the kind of noise I had failed to appreciate being absent.
“Wait here, buddy,” I said as I parked the car, even though Shiloh started barking at me to stay with him.
I checked my phone when I got out. LeCharles had sent no reply yet. I suppose I shouldn’t read too much into that. After all, if I had gotten a message like that from one of my exes, I didn’t know how I would have responded. It probably would have made me wonder if he wanted something other than to just chat.
