Nashville didn’t feel like home, neither did the studio or the live music circuit. Home wasn’t a different girl in my bed every weekend or the case of beer it took to forget the one thing I couldn’t get off my mind, ever. It wasn’t the bars, the clubs, the social media influencers who staged dates with me, and hookups for likes and shares. I didn’t feel at home when my head hit the pillow at night, and my heart called to be somewhere else.
And when the plane touched down on Georgia’s red clay soil for the first time in ten years, it didn’t feel like coming home as I thought it would—it felt like I was an outsider, visiting a city I no longer knew.
Because to me, home was lounging by the river, sharing pralines with my best friends. It was curling up in Magnolia’s full-sized bed, hiding under the covers, pressing kisses to her freckled skin, trying to keep quiet so we didn’t wake her brother. It was stealing kisses from Maggie in my momma’s kitchen, arms wrapped around her curvy hips, face buried in her long, curly red hair.
And I’d long since been evicted from that home.
I nudged Ryan, deep in an all-you-can-drink first class mimosa coma, and pointed to the front of the plane where the flight attendant opened the door,letting in a cascade of humidity that enveloped the cabin. He stretched out, nodded, and stood up to grab his bags, banging his head on the plane’s low ceiling.?
“You good, pal?” I stifled a laugh, standing up slowly and cautiously, as I watched my friend struggling to get his luggage from the overhead compartment.?
“Not off to the best start here. I think I need a heavy brunch and a good nap. What time’s the party?”?
“I know a good spot, and you’ll have time to get some beauty sleep, and hopefully shower, before the festivities.”?
We wandered into the terminal, and I glanced around, searching for a sign pointing me toward the Uber pickup—or better yet, a giant neon sign telling me to get my ass back on the plane because this was a bad idea.
As we drove through the tree-lined streets, making our way toward the river, I looked out the window for any hint that this place might have changed. As if the new restaurants and storefronts would give me a clue as to the kind of person Magnolia was now.?
Of course, since she didn’t have social media, I had to keep tabs on her through the bar’s Instagram. Charlie, on the other hand, had a very active digital life, mostly for his art, but every now and again, I got a glimpse of the gang all together, a fleeting snapshot into what life might be like for them.?
When Dane visited Nashville a few months back—he hadn’t been home in a while either—he’d brought me up to speed as best he could. Never asking why the cord had been severed between all of us, but likely assuming with his critical, legal trained mind that time and circumstance did the trick.?
After all, he was just as much an outlier these days as I was. Last we spoke, it was as if Magnolia, Sutton, and Charlie had lost his number, too. Guilty by blood-association, I’d assumed.
I sent him a text to let him know we were about to check into the hotel, which he read but did not reply to. Momma told me he’d lost his job in Atlanta and was now working with our father, which meant he was probably sitting in that big old white building on Bull Street wasting an entire Saturday working on some brief or argument my father would ultimately take credit for.?
The life that Dane, the golden child, was groomed for and the life I pushed away every chance I got. The life I walked away from, getting me cut off—not just financially from my parents, but socially, from most of my friends as well.
Ryan and I checked into the hotel and made our way on foot toward the restaurant. We took a slight detour down Jones Street and stopped in front of my parents’ sprawling corner-lot home.?
“Let’s just run in quickly and see if Momma’s home. She probably caught wind that I’ve been in the city for fifteen minutes and is already stewing because I haven’t stopped by yet.”
“This is quite the house, Wilder,” Ryan mused, as we walked up the staircase and onto the porch. I reached for the doorknob to let myself in but hesitated for a moment and decided to knock.?
“Leland! Oh, darlin’, it’s so good to see you,” my parents’ long-time house-assistant, Dottie, said, as she wrapped me in a warm hug.?
“Hey, Ms. Dottie, it’s good to see you, too. I’m glad you’re still here, working with my parents.” I smiled, stepping over the threshold into a home that felt foreign to me. Ryan, eyes trying to adjust to the dark foyer, bumped into me. “This my buddy Ryan, Ms. Dottie. Ryan, Ms. Dottie has been keeping the Wilder house running like clockwork since before I was born.”?
“Ah, the good old days when you kids were running around. You, Dane, Charlie, and Magnolia. I miss all the noise,” she sighed, running her hands over her apron, extending her arm and leading us down the hallway and into my parents’ grand sitting room. “I’m only here two days a week since life is a little less chaotic for your parents now that you boys are grown. Can I get you two something to drink? You look like you could use an aspirin—Ryan, is it?”?
We both laughed, and I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary, but we sure appreciate it. Is Momma home?”?
She sighed again. “I’m afraid not, Leland. She expected you home last night, and I haven’t seen her yet today. Probably left early to get ready for tonight. We’ll see you at the party, won’t we? I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing all your old friends.”?
“Absolutely, of course I am,” I lied through my wide smile. “We’re heading to brunch, but will you tell her I stopped by? I’m staying at the River Street Inn.”?
Dottie leaned in and gave me another tight squeeze. “I will, dear. And I will see you tonight, too. So much excitement, and so many great things to celebrate! I’m looking forward to it.”?
“What else are we celebrating?” Ryan asked, padding down the stairs andback onto the street.
I shrugged and led the way to the restaurant, my stomach growling at the thought of pancakes the size of a table and a hot, fresh coffee. “My brother probably won some big case with my father, who’s retired but still breathing down his neck. Vance Wilder uses every occasion, related directly to him or not, to boast about his success in the courtroom.”?
“Sounds like a massive dick,” Ryan blurted out.?
“He can be,” I broke into a grin. “Listen, I know everyone says their family is crazy, but mine is beyond nuts. They’re the stereotypical southern assholes who only care about what other people think above anything else. Even the feelings of the other members of the family.”?
“Sounds like the plot of a shitty movie. Do you think you need therapy, Wilder? Must be hard being the black sheep.”?
