“Come back this weekend, honey,” she says, electric mixer humming in the background.
I stare at the empty spot, where the TV left behind loose screws. My apartment is so much quieter without Shane, and way cleaner, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t laid here remembering every nice thing he did for me in our two years together. I questioned my choices, wondering if I’d overreacted or fucked up by breaking it off. Maybe it was just a trash bag after all.
“I’m busy this weekend, Mom,” I say, sinking back into the pillows.
“No, you’re lying in bed because Friday, Saturday, Sunday are your days off,” she says briskly. “You’re probably going to cry inthe shower, eat ice cream for breakfast, and wonder if you made a mistake breaking it off with that loser.”
“Mom,” I grumble, annoyed at how right she is. “Stop it.”
“If you don’t drive your ass out here, I’m sending your dad.”
The phone clicks, and I roll my eyes, but inside, I have a feeling she’s right. When the night comes around, the city is pretty damn big now that I’m alone. Deep down, despite Shane being there or not, I’ve been a little homesick for a while. My chest aches sometimes, especially at night, when I can’t see the sunset through all the buildings or the stars through the streetlamps. After the disruption of Shane moving out, maybe it’d be good for me to go home, stare at the mountains for a while, and hit the reset button.
I pick up my phone and text her—I’ll pack my things and be back by noon.
My phone buzzes while I pack, and I know she’s back at the cabin on Ryder Ranch, yelling at my dad from the kitchen to throw my sheets in the wash before I get here. That puts a smile on my face and gives me the energy I need to get my things together and lock up the empty apartment.
Maybe I should get a dog, something to make it less lonely.
The streets are pretty quiet; it’s only seven. I stop by the coffee shop down the street and get myself a dirty chai and a cranberry scone. Then, balancing them in one hand, I drag my wheeled suitcase around the corner and through the entrance to the parking garage. It’s enormous, always packed with cars, and I never get a space except on the very top level.
Luckily, there’s an elevator. It takes forever as usual, groaning like it’s about to freefall. I have a sip of chai, ignoring the metallic scraping. The doors part, and I get off with a sigh of relief. I pull my suitcase to the far end, where my truck is parked. My dad insisted on me getting a truck with the sturdiest frame.I don’t trust those city drivers, always rushing this way and that, hegrumbled. So, I gave in, even though it’s ridiculous and far too big for most parking spaces around here.
I dump my suitcase in the back and get in, peeling open my scone and setting my chai down.
My shoulders sink in relief.
I’m going home, just for the weekend, and I’ve already got a smile on my face.
Luckily, the traffic isn’t terrible as I make my way out of the city and get on the highway. I glance back in the mirror, feeling a conflicting ache. There’s something so beautiful about the city, even though I get homesick. I got my degree here, and I was just starting to like my job. Then, of course, Shane had to ruin my groove by being a total loser, it turned out.
Fuck Shane.
I frown, taking another sip of chai. My dad hated Shane, and he was pretty vocal about it, but I thought all his reasons were silly at the time. Now that I’m looking back, Dad was right—Shane shouldn’t have raised his voice at me that night we went out to the movies a few months back, and he shouldn’t have poked fun at me in front of everyone at that company dinner either. That made me cry and call Mom, and she ratted me out to Dad in seconds, which prompted a phone call where he threatened to beat Shane’s ass.
I should’ve fucking let him. My wiry father packs a punch.
Rolling my eyes, I flick on the radio. It takes two hours to get to Knifely, the last town before Ryder Ranch. That’s about my limit before I need another shot of caffeine and a snack, so I pull over outside the diner. Everything is exactly the same, and I love it. Beside the diner is the same old hair salon, owned by Izzy, the only hairstylist in town. She’s standing in the door with a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her face lights up when I wave.
“Janie, you get yourself over here,” she hollers.
I scramble over the curb and climb up the two steps to the shop, giving her a hug. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Can’t complain. What are you doing out here?”
She’s a tall woman with dyed black hair piled on her head, a red stripe running up from her temple. Today, she’s in jeans with rhinestones on the pockets, cowboy boots, and a t-shirt that saysDaddy is a Cowboyacross the front. I don’t know what that means, but it’s very Izzy.
“I’m just visiting for the weekend,” I say. “Grabbing some coffee before I get to the ranch.”
She reaches out and starts fluffing my blonde hair with her fingers. It’s summer, so the highlights are bright, the tips fading into pale blonde. I know she’s cringing inside, wondering why I’m always forgetting my heat protectant.
“Damn, you have a lot of length,” she says.
I shrug, remembering how much Shane liked my hair long. Maybe I’m in the mood for a chop soon. A little thrill of rebelliousness runs through me.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to do a summer cut,” I say without thinking. “Just haven’t had the time.”
She glances at the clock, already pulling out the chair. “Let me do it. I can fit in a cut real quick.”
