Jill jammed a thumb toward the attendant. “My truck, my gas; you pay parking.”
Seth perched on one ass cheek to reach into his billfold, grumbling while digging out a twenty. Jill handed it to the attendant, smiling sweetly. “Keep the change.”
She floored the gas pedal, cutting off Seth’s, “Hey! I got fifteen bucks coming back!”
He’d never met this woman before and yet somehow had managed to piss her off—not that he’d ever understood women, particularly his dour, demanding grandmother (God rest her soul!). However, usually he had some inkling of his error whenever one grew physically violent with a vehicle or other inanimate object on his behalf.
Mulling over her words, he realized Jill was right on one account. He really could have made an attempt to call Auntie Irene. With his grandmother no longer around, he didn’t run the risk of unleashing her hysterics. Somehow her warnings of “You’ll end up like my daughter!” or “Please, please don’t go there!” hadn’t instilled confidence. Yet, for all her faults, she’d raised him. While lacking warmth, she had provided for him. He supposed she loved him, though she’d never been demonstrative about it. Yet she’d never once allowed him to call anyone with a Georgia area code.
Regardless of Nana’s talk about “Irene McDaniel doesn’t care about you,” Seth had memories of being sung to, read to, and being allowed to help bake cookies. And when Aunt Irene died, she’d left him everything. That hardly seemed like the behavior of someone who didn’t care.
Despite a handful of happy memories, why his aunt had never once contacted him remained a mystery. She’d told him she loved him the last time he’d seen her, and then… nothing.
“I—” he began, at a loss for words.
“Can’t hear you,” Jill yelled over the radio as she flipped it to full volume.
Seth winced but gathered that a forced discussion at this juncture might prove dangerous. With time on his hands and the ride having smoothed enough to allow letting go of his death grip on the grab handle, he pulled his iPhone from his pocket, desperate to communicate with someone familiar.
He punched the icon for his favorite site, sighing when he read message after message from his so-called cyber friends, congratulating Michael on the upcoming wedding. Adding insult to injury, Michael had hired a second-rate photographer to record the ceremony! A man who used a secondhand camera and hadn’t a clue about proper backlighting.
Seth scrolled through the list of well-wishers, finding no love. Traitors. He pulled up short at seeing his own name: “Better keep Seth from showing up to ruin things. What you ever saw in the loser is beyond me.”What? Oh, Michael’s sister, Angela. Michael’s socialclimbing sister hadn’t considered Seth good enough for her brother.
Disgusted, Seth tried another media site, one more devoted to who did whom, and sighed again at his “friends” boasting of hookups and near misses. Not a single person mentioned him or even seemed to notice he’d left. Didn’t he have any true friends? Thumbs clicking across the phone’s tiny keyboard, he wrote,In Georgia, back soon.
He let out the breath he’d been holding, relief washing through him when he received a response from some guy he knew only by a purple penguin icon, a screen name of “Squeaky,” and a penchant for online gaming.Nice hearing from u. Was worried.
I’m okay, he typed back.Settling aunt’s estate.
He received:O good. Worried u jumped off bridge after M’s engagement.
Did his friends think him that distraught over Michael?Michael’s getting married?he asked. No rejoinder came back, though he waited a few minutes.
Once the usual posters presumably assumed he’d moseyed off, they recommenced their prattle about who slept with whom, who wanted to sleep with whom, etcetera.
He shoved his phone into his pocket, more depressed than ever.
“You might try talking to somebody in the real world. You know, flesh-and-blood people. Folks who use actual words and not textspeak.”
Seth hadn’t even noticed the volume on the radio dropping enough for them to converse without yelling. And though Jill’s arctic tones didn’t actually approach anywhere near an open invitation to chat, at least she wasn’t hissing through clenched teeth now.
“Thought you weren’t talking to me.”
“I meant you should have called your aunt every once in a while.” “She never called me!”
“The phone works both ways. Did you ever even try calling her?”
No sense in denying the truth. “No, but maybe I should have. Happy now?”
“I don’t do happy.”
Seth wouldn’t argue the point. After turning off the interstate, they traveled a few miles on a state road, and then turned once again onto a much less cared for stretch of blacktop, weeds encroaching on either side. After a small eternity, they passed a town limit sign.Welcome to Possum Kingdom, population….Whatever number had once graced the sign now hid behind a blob of black spray paint, replaced by a smearily scrawled,How long you staying?
“The last get-together pretty much cleaned Irene’s kitchen out. If you plan to stay at her house, you’re going to need provisions.” Jill parked the truck in the parking lot of an unremarkable mom-and-pop grocery store. They still made those? A vague recollection tickled Seth’s memory—Auntie dropping quarters into the mechanical horse out front, Seth and his friend taking turns riding. Seth recalled red hair, crooked front teeth, and the laughing eyes of the best friend he’d ever had. His heart lurched. Could it be possible that Dustin still lived around these parts?
Before he could ask, Jill stormed out of the truck and into Phil’s Grocery and Sporting Goods. Supposing he ought to heed her advice and get some food, Seth scrambled to keep up with her, straining his legs to match her ambitious pace.
“Grab a cart,” Jill barked. She leaned beside the front door, appearing bored.
