One good thing came from that hot, miserable day. We got to explore Ms. Lacey’s property. We discovered if you followed the rolling hills away from the subdivision about a quarter mile, you’d come to a tree line. Beyond the tree line was river access with a mossy bank. It was perfectly out of sight from any of the houses.
That little section of river became our paradise.
We’d sneak out late at night to meet there. It was an entire operation. We even swiped some old patio furniture off an always-traveling neighbor’s porch to make the riverbank more cozy. “Homey” is the word Gracie used. Boy, was that a job. Gracie wasn’t one for hard labor. Trying to get her to help carry some patio chairs through the field almost ruined our friendship.
But it was worth it. The nights there with her were magical. We talked, laughed, went swimming, fished, and studied for big tests. We read through the booklet for our permits, and I massaged her neck when it was sore from stressing out.
As we grew, our relationship caught fire. The line between friendship and love blurred. It took me weeks to drum up the gumption to kiss her. On Gracie’s sixteenth birthday, I risked it all and planted one on her lips. But she kissed me back. Hungrily. Like she’d been waiting a long time for it. She said as much.
It was by the river we made love for the first time, and started talking about the future, making plans. I worked more hours in the garage with Danny, saving up cash and learning the trade. I had every intention of marrying her young.
I told her what I wanted as we swung in the hammock one night. She was happy. So was I. We were always happy together. There was no one in our world but the two of us.
But now it was just me.
I opened my eyes and allowed the light to flood in. I wasn’t sure what was more painful—facing the day or facing the past. The fan spun full-blast over my head. A clock on the wall read 7:45 a.m.
I was lying on the couch. Didn’t remember moving there.
Shaye reappeared and caught me with my eyes open. A light gasp escaped from her lips. Her voice was soft. “Patrick?”
I lifted my hand off my chest to let her know I was alive.
She sniffled and lowered herself onto the ottoman. “Are you okay?”
Her naïve question was good intentioned. It took all my strength to summon up a “yeah” for her.
She had emerged from her room dressed in slacks and a tucked-in white blouse. Her bedroom shoes were gone. She was wearing tan flats and had pulled her hair back. Someone was coming.
“I talked to my pastor. He wanted to come see you.”
Heck no. I was done being a fish in a bowl. I’d been there for almost fourteen hours with Shaye pacing and crying and worrying herself to death. And I didn’t remember half of it. It was time for me to go. Nashville held no appeal to me, but at least I could shut my bedroom door and disappear. Not have to see pastors or answer any questions.
I sat up, and a fuzzy blanket rolled off my chest. She must’ve covered me in the night.
“I gotta—” Words scraped against my raw vocal chords. I cleared my throat. “I gotta go, Shaye.”
“You can stay as long as you want. I have space.”
As kind as the offer was, I wanted to be alone above all else. My muscles protested as I rose. “I’m going home.” The word felt foreign coming out of my mouth. Nashville was supposed to be a temporary landing spot for me. Not home. “Home” conjured up images of comfort, love, happiness, and togetherness. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have those things again.
“Are you sure? You could at least stay for a bit. Eat. Shower. I’m worried about you driving. I can’t drive far these days because of my back, but I can have my neighbor drive you—”
I held up a hand and shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
She sighed and nodded. “Okay, wait just a minute. Let me grab you a few things.” She scurried off into the kitchen. The unmistakable groan and release of a Keurig sounded and a few cabinets opened and closed. I located my keys, phone, and wallet on the table in the foyer. My hands were numb as I shoved them into my pockets.
Shaye reappeared with a paper to-go cup and a bag of homemade muffins. “I made you some coffee. Do you take cream or sugar?”
“No ma’am.”
She pushed the coffee cup into my hands and dropped the bag into Gracie’s cardboard box on the couch. She picked up the box and said, “I’ll follow you out.”
My feet were like cement. The thin coffee cup burned my palm. The sun was already high, and the humidity was higher. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I fumbled with the rental keys. Making it back to the apartment would be a herculean feat.
I slid into the driver’s seat, and Shaye handed me the box. I averted my eyes from its contents, placing it in the passenger’s seat.
She gripped my forearm. “I put my phone number in the box. Sweetie, call me anytime you need someone to talk to. Let me know how you’re doing at some point, or I’ll be worrying myself to death.”
