November 22, Saturday
age statement the declared age of the youngest bourbon in a bottle
THE EXHAUSTION hit me before I even reached the van, a bone-deep weariness that came from smiling through another full day of tours while my life crumbled beneath the surface.
I'd managed to keep my voice steady, my accent consistent, my bourbon facts accurate.
But the moment the last tourist departed, the mask slipped completely.
I was fantasizing about collapsing onto my narrow bed when I spotted Poppy hurrying across the gravel toward me. She clutched a white envelope in her hand, waving it like a flag.
"Bernadette! This came for you today!" Her face glowed with excitement. "It's from Arizona!"
My heart stuttered. I'd almost forgotten about the application I'd submitted months ago—back when finding my father had seemed like a straightforward quest, before Boyd Biggs and DNA tests and devastating revelations.
I took the envelope from Poppy's outstretched hand. The return address confirmed it: Tucson Community College, Office of Admissions.
"Well?" Poppy bounced on her toes. "Open it!"
My fingers trembled as I tore open the envelope, pulling out the folded letter inside. The words swam before my eyes for a moment before coming into focus:
Dear Ms. Waters,
We are pleased to inform you that your application to complete your undergraduate degree has been accepted...
Accepted. They'd accepted me.
...classes begin the first week of January. Your previous credits have been evaluated and you will enter as a junior with standing...
January. Less than six weeks away. A fresh start, a return to the life I'd abandoned when my mother got sick, a chance to finish something I'd started.
"Well?" Poppy demanded again, her hands clasped together. "Good news?"
"I got in." The words felt surreal. "They accepted me. I start in January."
"Oh, yay!" Poppy pulled me into a tight hug that smelled of bubble gum and little girl. "I'm so happy for you!"
I hugged her back, feeling tears prick my eyes. Finally, some good news. After weeks of crushing disappointments, here was something simple and straightforward. Something I'd earned through my own effort, not tangled up in someone else's history or DNA.
Poppy pulled back, holding me at arm's length. Her expression shifted, pleasure mixing with sadness. "But you'll be leaving us. Going back to Arizona."
"That's right."
"Won't you miss your friends here?" Poppy's eyes searched my face.
"I'll miss a few people," I admitted. "You," I said, pulling a pigtail. And Jett, my mind whispered. "But I need to get back to reality."
Poppy tilted her head. "What's not real about Kentucky?"
How could I explain? That Kentucky had been a temporary escape, a detour driven by grief and desperation. That I'd built a fantasy here—finding my father, belonging somewhere.
"This was never permanent," I said carefully.
"But you have a job here and a place to stay." Poppy gestured around the campground. "You've made a life here, Bernadette. That's real too."
I looked at the acceptance letter again, at the crisp university letterhead and formal language promising a future. Classes. A degree. Credentials that would open doors beyond tour buses and bourbon trails.
"I can't make a career out of wearing a barmaid costume and explaining fermentation," I said. "And I can't live in my van forever."
Poppy sighed. "I suppose that's true."
She headed back toward the office, leaving me standing beside my van with the acceptance letter clutched in my hand. The November wind cut through my jacket, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and approaching winter.
January I'd be back in Arizona, starting classes, finishing the degree I'd abandoned. Everything would be different. Better, hopefully.
I climbed into my van and sat in the driver's seat, reading the letter again. The professional language, the outlined requirements, the promise of structure and forward momentum—it all should have filled me with pure joy.
Instead, I felt the complicated tangle of relief and loss that came with closing a chapter before I was entirely ready.
I had six weeks left to resolve whatever could be resolved.