Page 6 of Your Love

A lump forms in my throat as I embrace her, clinging onto her like a lifeline. “I’m going to miss you both so much,” I whisper, unable to hold back my tears. “But Nana and Papa need me.” At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I think I might need them more.

As we pull away, my mother meets my gaze with a determined look. “Are you sure this isn’t just an escape? Running away?”

I take a deep breath before answering, letting go of all my fears and doubts. “I may be running away from something, but I know I’m also running toward something better. This place, the memories, the looks—it’s too much.”

“Who cares what people in this town think? They’re all hat, no cattle,” she says, causing me to chuckle. No matter how many miles I travel away from Texas, these roots will remain firmly planted within me.

I’m prepared to leave this town and the pain it holds behind and start anew somewhere I can be whoever I want to be. It doesn’t matter that my new classmates may view me as some kind of naive country hick. For the first time in a long while, I’ll be safe, which is something that has been missing from this place for far too long.

As dawn breaks, I rise with the roosters, eager to catch the Greyhound bus to my future. Mama said she couldn’t come and see me off because she had to tend to the animals, but I know it’s because she didn’t want to add more tears to this already emotional goodbye. So it’s just Daddy and I on our way to the station.

“Your grandparents are truly blessed to have you, Kerri Ann,” my father remarks with a fond smile. He only uses my full name when he’s serious, and it makes my heart clench in my chest.

“I’m happy to help them in any way I can.” My heart is filled with nothing but love for my aging grandparents. They have been rocks in the tumultuous storm of the past twelve months. And now, they’re offering me a safe haven to finish out my senior year of high school. The least I can do is help them in any way possible.

As we pull into the deserted parking lot of the bus station, my father turns to me and gives me a reassuring look. “I’ll take care of things here. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

I place my hand over his and give it a gentle squeeze, overwhelmed with emotion. “Thank you, Daddy. Your support and understanding mean everything to me.”

A rumble in the distance catches my attention, and I turn to see a large bus approaching. My stomach churns with dread as I know this will be my mode of transportation for the next day and a half. I sigh, preparing myself for the long journey ahead.

Thankfully, my trusty tape case is filled with all my favorite cassettes, and my Walkman has fresh batteries. I also packed a few books and magazines, hoping they will help pass the time. It may not be the most comfortable journey, but at least I’ll have some entertainment.

“It’s time to go.” Daddy’s voice breaks through the moment of silence. My father is an oak, and I need to take comfort in that strength right now. I launch into his arms and bury my face in the scruff of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent—grass, dirt, hay, and Old Spice after shave. It brings back happy memories of my childhood.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tease in an attempt to hold back tears.

“Call me when you get there,” he says with a gentle pat on my back.

“Of course,” I reply. “I have some change to call you from the bus stop if there’s time.”

“We’d like that. Now you go and enjoy being a kid.” His words hit me hard, reminding me that this moment is fleeting and I need to make the most of it.

I nod, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. With a deep breath, I tighten my backpack straps and start walking towards the bus stop.

“Talk to you soon, Daddy. I love you,” I call out before turning one last time to see him waving goodbye with a proud smile on his face.

I turn and ascend the narrow bus stairs, my footsteps echoing against the metal steps. A few weary eyes follow me as I walk toward the middle of the left side, strategically choosing a seat equidistant from any other person.

I hate that I’m not as trusting as I used to be. It angers me to the point of boiling over that I can no longer rely on my instincts. But I have a long journey ahead of me, and it’s time to start sorting through the turmoil of my past and preparing for the healing that awaits in my future.

As I settle into my seat, the faint stench of stale cigarettes and sweat fills my nostrils, but I ignore it as I close my eyes and steady my breath. The music drifts through my ears and into my daydreams of a different future, and I slip into sleep. My head rests against the cool glass of the bus window, and when the squeak of the bus brakes wakes me with a start, a trail of drool runs down my chin.

I slowly blink awake and rub my sleeve across my face, wiping away the evidence of my sleep. Looking around with a sheepish grin, I notice a few new passengers have gotten on the bus. Everyone seems to be lost in their own worlds, not paying any attention to anything but the long road ahead.

Yawning and stretching my neck from side to side, I debate using the bathroom on the bus, but Mama told me it likely wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, so I decide to hold it until our next stop.

As I gaze out the window, the beauty of twilight settles over me. It’s always been my favorite time of day. The sun is beginning its descent behind the distant mountains, the sky a canvas of pinks and oranges, a striking contrast against the darkening blue of nightfall.

The flat, barren ground shows signs of the harsh winter with no plants other than tumbleweeds. That sight never used to bother me, but now I find myself longing for the vitality of spring. I’m anxious for mountains, hills, and greenery. I long to witness the time when everything comes back to life after the long, dead winter.

The air has become chilly, and my skin prickles in response, causing goosebumps to form on my arms. I reach into my bag for the sweater Mama had packed for me, grateful for her thoughtfulness. Most of my belongings are stowed away in its luggage compartment under the bus, but I made sure to have some money and snacks in my bag.

With a gentle rustle, I reach in and retrieve my dinner. The crinkle of aluminum foil echoes in the quiet space, and a few faces turn my way. I offer a sheepish smile and try to unwrap my turkey sandwich with care so as not to cause a disturbance.

I take a sip from my water bottle and feel a burst of refreshment as it hits my lips. But my heart swells when I discover a couple of Capri Suns tucked away, most likely placed there by Daddy. Amazingly, I’ve been so strong through this entire ordeal, and here, on a Greyhound bus in the middle of nowhere, amongst a group of strangers, I begin to cry.

Fighting back sobs, I try to regain control of myself through deep breaths. Suddenly, I sense someone beside me and turn to see an elderly woman with a kind smile on her face. Her paperback Harlequin romance novel lies open on her abandoned seat, showcasing a shirtless Fabio staring into a distant sunset, and it makes me smile.