I don’t know what greeting will come to me from anyone, my family included.
I speak to my mom and dad whenever I decide not to ignore their calls.
They’re too painful.
Speaking to them made the pull worse, as well as the guilt I feel. I know they wish that things turned out a lot different. That I was home. That the plan I always wanted for my life had actually played out.
I’ve not spoken to Jake in a while.
Although, whenever I do speak to him, he refuses to disclose any information I ask abouther.
“Leave it be, Mav’, you made your bed.”He says, the heartfelt disappointment through the phone being clear anytime I ask.
It broke me a little more each time, so our phone calls become more distant as the years went on.
He isn’t wrong.
It ismyfault.
And I’d made my bed, so now I need to die in it.
Turning the steering wheel, I drive through the main part of town.
Wow.
Why do I feel like my eyes are deceiving me? It’s certainly changed in the last thirteen years. Bustles of people fill the street.
This place thriving.
Some stores are the same, yet plenty are different. I spot coffee shops and café’s as well as a cowboy boot store and a female clothing store, just on the corner of one of the side streets.
I could name so many women I knew in this town who would be over the moon with that addition.
I wonder who owns the place.
Reaching the top of the street I notice McCoy’s to the left of me. The place still lives. That’s one place I’m head over boots to see hasn’t changed. Driving past the bar I see people already walking into my favourite dive bar in the whole of America.
I glance at the clock.
Five thirty-eight on Friday evening.
I let out a chuckle to myself. Some things change yet the best things don’t. I’m glad to see Friday nights are still the one around here.
They never were back in Cali; people would rather hit the town on Saturday nights, and I could never get behind it.
Growing up, Friday night was for drinking, the rest of the weekend was for spending time with family and friends, as well as fitting in any odd jobs that weren’t able to be accomplished during the week workload.
I wonder if Jake will be playing tonight.
Last time my brother and I spoke, he said he pretty much had the Friday night spot here. That conversation was a while ago, as brief as it was. Just checking in, I suppose. Again, no answers to my questions I long to know.
I carry on driving straight, long past the bar that I miss so much. As I look out on the horizon, pulling myself from my daydream which I often find myself having to do, I realise that I’ve missed my parent’s ranch turning and I’m heading straight towards the one place I told myself I wouldn’t go.
Turning right on the endless dirt road as if on instinct I see the sign I should be avoiding.
RIGGINS RANCH
What the hell am I doing?
