So. Long(214)

He held me away from him and looked me right in the eyes. “Look, you and me, we’re on separate paths. It’s not like it was before. We always knew this wasn’t going to last forever.”

“But it could, Buck. Couldn’t it?”

His face went through a myriad of expressions—happiness, confusion, anger—finally settling on determination.

But then his eyes hardened. “Look, Lou. We were never meant to stay together. If we do, it’ll be a nail in the coffin of my career. I have to leave. You go to college and use that scholarship you worked so hard for. Someday you’ll thank me for this.”

Thank him? For ripping my soul to shreds and lighting a match to it? Not likely. It’s been damn near five years, and I’ve never felt gratitude for what he did. Not once.




Evening brings a cool breeze and the longing to get outside and enjoy it while it lasts.

But Buck’s next door. Do I really want to deal with him if he comes around?

Fuck him. After last night, I doubt he’ll show up over here again anytime soon.

Bastard.

Letting myself out of the house, I slide my flip-flops onto my feet. I slowly make my way to the north side of Aunt Delores’s place, instead of going south toward the Buckners’.

My ankle still aches, but if the military taught me anything it was to push past the pain. I tramp through the unkempt path through the little strip of trees that used to separate the Dubois’ from the Fontaines’ place—my mom’s place.

Aunt Delores and Uncle Manny bought my old house three or four years ago. My childhood home, if anyone could call it a home, still stands—if the term stands is used loosely. It’d be more accurate to say it leans…collapses…disintegrates at a low rate of speed—too slowly, in my opinion.

I push clingy weeds from my path and cross into the clearing that surrounds the decaying single-wide trailer where, more times than not, I spent the night hungry, alone, or scared. Or all of the above.

I wander to the place under the Bois d’Arc tree where I first met Aunt Delores. I was thirteen, and she had a basket filled with warm blueberry muffins and a smile.

She walked into the yard with her basket over her arm, picking her way through the brambles and brush.

I carefully scrambled down from the horse-apple tree. But, even though I was careful, one of the three-inch-long thorns still caught my top as I made my way from limb to limb. It tore the fabric and sent a streak of stinging pain through me. I jumped down, holding my side.

The woman rushed over, set her towel-covered basket on the ground, and knelt beside me. “You all right?”

An angry scratch leaked droplets of blood from my hip to my ribcage. I dashed the tears escaping from my eyes. “I’m okay.”

Her kind eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen. “Darlin’, that doesn’t look okay to me. Let’s tell your momma, so she can fix you up.”

She turned toward the rickety front steps.

I latched onto her hand, pulling her to a stop. “No. No. Momma’s not home right now. I know where the bandages are, I’ll fetch one.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve been watching the road for your momma or daddy to get home. I want to introduce myself to my new neighbors. And not thirty minutes ago, I saw that brown car right there pull into your driveway. You sure your momma’s not home? Maybe your daddy’s here.”

Busted.

I stood to my fullest height, five-foot-four the last time Buck got out his Pop’s tape measure. I looked her in the eye and swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “I lied. I’m sorry. Momma’s home, but she’s sleeping and doesn’t like to be woke up. I ain’t got no daddy.”

“Next time, just tell me the truth. If we’re going to be friends, friends don’t lie to each other.”

I bit my bottom lip, twisting my fingers behind me as I nodded.

She offered her hand. “I’m Delores Dubois. And you are?”

I placed my hand in hers. “Lou.”

“Well, I’m just tickled to meet you, Lou.”

She went home, but returned a few minutes later with some ointment and bandages.

After she fixed me up, I said, “Thank you. Momma woulda whooped me good. She’s told me not to climb that tree at least a hundred times.”

She patted my cheek. “Then why climb that one? Especially when there are so many other good climbing trees around?”

I shrugged. “I like that tree, it’s the safest.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed. “I don’t think so. Look at your side, Young’un. How can you say it’s the safest?”

“No one would ever follow me up it. I like to practice, just in case I ever need to get away from someone.”