“Down by the bayou, I saw you last / Beer in my hand, the past in the past / On one fine hell of a winnin’ streak / We made love by the river’s creek…”
Turning away from Mom to gaze out the window at the dark, sailing trees, I let myself finally experience the weight of the choice I’d made.
I did this for you, Trent, I thought to myself.
But it didn’t stop the tears from falling.
It was a couple of hours later before we arrived back home in our tiny little stain on the wooded Alabama wilderness. The familiarity of the small bridge over the tiny river – the single decent landmark here – awoke the faintest wisps of childhood memories…
I could almost see it. I experienced a small barrage of scattered visions in the shattered glass of my life before the accident.
Skipping and playing through the trees.
A solitary school bus, pulling up by the bridge every morning – bringing the kids a town over for elementary school.
A time before I knew of mountains and oceans.
Before I knew of great castles and bustling metropolises.
I swallowed the tension that appeared in my throat. This was a place that I never liked to dwell on, and it was the place to which I had resigned myself.
I was going to live here again.
No friends.
No job.
No nothing.
As if reading my gloomy mind, Mom chirped up. “Oh! My disability check should be in the mail again any day now. Until then, I’ve got some food in the fridge you can have. I picked up your favorites when I knew you were coming…got you some of those juice popsicles you used to like so much, some cherry Pop-Tarts, some Lunchables…”
“Mom, I never liked those popsicle things,” I told her. “And what about stuff like bread, or vegetables, or fruit? Can I go get some of that?”
“Nonsense!” She smiled toothily. “We’ve got some bread at home, some peanut butter…no jelly, though…and I think I still have some grapes or something. Let’s wait for that check, and then we’ll take a look at what we can get you.”
“Wait…did you say that you collect disability now?”
She glared at me.
As if I’d questioned her moral integrity.
“Of course I collect disability. My knees are so weak, I can barely get anywhere! Always hobbling around, I’d fall and hurt myself otherwise! And without that son of a bitch ex-husband of mine, I’ve got to support myself some way!”
I snuck a discreet glance down at her legs.
They looked fine.
“Okay, Mom,” I smiled faintly. “I’m sorry that I offended you. And thank you. For getting me, and everything else.”
“Of course, dear,” Mom sweetened slightly, pulling into our drive. We scattered gravel as we drove past concealing trees and foliage, finally exposing the green, barely livable, large shack of a house. “Anything for you, my sweet darling.”
I was wrong earlier.
THIS is when I resigned myself to my fate.
Well…at least Roger’s not here.
It was the only solace that I had now.
27
Trent
There was only place I could think to look for Angel, and that was where I’d met her.
The last time I was in Alabama, I’d been reduced to the resources that my tour had provided me with. Namely, we were given access to a sleek pair of fresh but ultimately cumbersome jeeps.
Not this time.
This time, I rode in style.
It was just the way I liked it.
I revved the handlebar of the motorcycle, feeling the engine rumble with satisfaction between my thighs.
This was the way to do it.
As I whizzed between cars on the interstate, whipping from lane to lane, I kept an eager eye out for the proper exit. At my last stop, I’d paused to re-evaluate the directions, and I knew my turn was coming up soon.
But not just yet.
Which gave me time to think.
Steven had crossed the fucking line. He had been a self-righteous loser and a pain in my ass from the start, but now he had interfered with my personal life.
And now, here I was.
Cleaning up his fucking mistakes.
Taking back what was rightfully mine.
And there had been co-conspirators.
After everything that I’d done for them, half my band had turned on me. Everyone from the manager to the drummer had been a part of this.
But not my bassist.
Nice to know there was someone I could trust.
I shook my head, clearing it for what was coming next. Because there were more pressing matters to attend to…
There it is.
Riverton.
When we’d left in one of those silly jeeps, I thought that was the last time I’d see this backwater scrape of a town. Nestled serenely between the sticks and the ass-crack of nowhere, I figured that was that.
Funny how life turns out, I guess.