Instead of laughing and posing for pictures on the beach, I was now walking through the most rinky-dink airport I had ever seen. I was used to the large expanse of Tampa International. There, you had to ride a monorail just to get to the different terminals. Here? Well, this airport had a sign that boasted Boise asThe City ofTrees.
Obviously, it wasn’t the city of major airlinetravel.
As I walked with my fellow travelers toward the other side of the security checkpoint where everyone was waiting, I watched the faces of the people near me light up with excitement. The lady next to me ran,actually ran, to a guy waiting for her. He immediately picked her up and swung her around. There were words of greeting, laughs, hugs and handshakes allaroundme.
As I looked around, I realized I was relieved not to see my dad just yet. I wasn’t sure how I would react to seeing him. Obviously, it wouldn’t be with all the fuss I saw around me. There would be no running, most likely no hugging. What did you do when you saw the man who helped create you, but you hadn’t seen in fiveyears?
For now, my stomach was growling and my bags were waiting. I decided to head down to baggage claim after finding a place to get a quick bite. Then, I’d facemydad.
Ispottedmy dad almost immediately after grabbing my bags off the conveyor belt. He looked the same as he did in my memory, just slightly older. He wore a button down shirt and jeans. His hair was light brown with a few more strands of gray from the last time I saw him. A mustache practically took over the bottom half of his face covering his top lip. Even with that monstrosity, I could see the tentative smile touchinghislips.
I forced a smile in return, positive it came out more like agrimace.
His smile began to falter and the oh-so familiar look of pity began to take over. Lips pulled back in a tight line. Well, the lip I could see anyway. His eyebrows turned up in the center as his eyes found mine. It was the same expression anyone I talked to these days had. Oh, how I hated that look, was so ridiculously tired ofthatlook.
Pity.
“How are you,kiddo?”
“I'm fine. It's fine. Can we just go?” I spat out just as he finished getting the question out. It was rude, but I couldn't listen to that voice too. Not now. There was a special voice that went with the look he had just given me. It was as if people forgot how to speak normally once it crossedtheirface.
That voice was worse thanthelook.
He must have seen something in my eyes, because he didn’t try to speak to me again as we walked out the exit doors and toward the parking garage. He produced a set of keys with his free hand to unlock his truck. The pickup was red and dusty. A far cry from the sedan I remembered from my youth, but certainly appropriate for the West. It was exactly what one would expect to see in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, the man next to me could play the part he was given when he wanted too. Frustration flared in my chest, threatening to come out in a growl. He started to drive us home before I could second-guess why Iwashere.
No,nothome.
My new house, which was technically my old house. Even though I had a house ofmyown.
I wasn’t quite sure what to callityet.
We drove out through the city, slowly making our way to two lane roads that seemingly went to the middle of nowhere. The roads were empty, save for the occasional truck driving the opposite direction. Those were few and far between. I rested my forehead against the glass of the window; my gaze stayed solidly fixedoutit.
I watched the mountains on the horizon. They were visible even in the city and I hadn't taken my eyes off them the entire drive. They were majestic and powerful. Soon, I thought, they would be white-peaked with snow. A sight I hadn’t seen insolong.
There was such beauty here, beauty I hadn't realized I missed this much. I had become accustomed to flat horizons and greenery everywhere. What I was seeing now was foreign to me. And yet, I found it strangely comforting at the same time. The drive took less than an hour. I was sad when it was over because it meant I’d be expected to face realityoncemore.
My dad pulled up the driveway to a one-story ranch style home. The giant maple trees on either side were still there. I could hear the sound of horses neighing from the neighbor's property. But I didn't stay outside long enough to take it all in. Instead I went straight to the house. I walked to myoldroom.
Setting my bag on the floor next to the bed, I laid down, not bothering to pull the bedspread down. I stared at the ceiling, thinking how much my life had changed in the last few months. Not sure of how long I lay there, I finally fell asleep. I hadn’t even eatendinner.
This room, this bed, is where I stayed the remainder of thesummer.
My pillow constantly soaked withtears.
I mourned the death of my mother, the loss of my home, and the old life I couldn't gobackto.
I wasn't sure how I would make it back tonormal.
ChapterTwo
Julian
“Julian Alvarado,do not walk out of this house while I’m talking to you!” My mom’s voice carried through the hall as I walked awayfromher.
I didn’t look back as I stepped out the front door. I loved my mom, but it was getting to be unbearable just to be under the same roof as her. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the one who brought a total shitstorm to ourlives.
It didn’t seem to matter at all thatIwas the one making honor roll and being the model freaking citizen before Marco ran off. Or, that I had earned a full ride to Boise State. Even the fact I put my dream on holdto make sure bills were paid and food was in the fridge didn’t seem to be enough for my momthesedays.
