3. Chapter 3
three
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. Saying it out loud makes it real.
Starting over.
I don’t even know what that means. I just know I can’t go back. Not to him. Not to who I became with him—and in the same way the flood of memories washed over me last night—I’m struck by an awakening.
It wasn’t who I became with Grant. It’s who I’ve been all my life. A person who yields to the demands of the man in her life.
First my father and then my husband.
Well, no more.
Then a harder truth washes over me—the only one who never demanded anything from me—the one who meant the most—I didn’t yield to him at all. I walked away, because I couldn’t disappoint my parents.
“You may change your min—” She stops herself, studying me like she’s trying to read the parts I’m not saying. The bruised places. The tired places. The places I hid so well, I almost convinced myself they weren’t there.
Or maybe she simply sees anger flash in my eyes. “I won’t.”
“Laurel, you haven’t taught in three years.”
“I’ll do something else if I have to. But I won’t do that anymore.”
Slowly, she nods, transitioning to a big smile. “Bowie, what do you want to do today? Grammy is all yours.”
“Blippi!” Bowie wiggles in his booster seat. “Blippi fire truck!”
“It’s been three days.” I roll my eyes and wipe a drip of milk from his chin.
“I want Blippi,” he insists, like a tiny king with a spoon for his scepter, convinced three days without his show is a lifetime.
He was such a trooper on that long drive. Better than I dreamed he’d be. “What channel?” My mother already has the TV remote in hand, clicking through her channel guide.
“It’s not on a channel, Mom. It’s on his tablet.”
“A three-year-old with his own tablet. What is the world coming to? You’ll have to teach me how to get that for him.”
After retrieving his charged tablet and clicking on his show, I tell them, “I’m going to clean up while you two watch Blippi.” I could use a few free minutes. Alone. Totally alone.
“Not until you eat. You are skin and bones, Laurel.” She shoves a plate of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs in front of me and points at the table. “I’m serious. You’re too thin.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat or I’ll force feed you.”
“Fine.”
“And after you eat, I want you to take a nap. You’ve been driving for days and I know you’re exhausted. Bowie and I will have fun while you pamper yourself. Take a hot, soaking bath and relax. Then sleep.”
“I am tired,” I hate to admit.
More than tired. Worn through.
“Then it’s decided. Eat and nap.”
I’m little again. My legs don’t reach the floor, and I’m perched on Daddy’s knee, his big hand smoothing my hair like I’m something precious. He smells like coffee and aftershave, and the whole world feels warm and golden because he’s smiling at me like I hung the moon.
“You’re the smartest and prettiest girl in this whole town,” he says, tapping my nose. “No. In the world. And someday, you’ll go to Rice like your daddy. You can change the world, Laurel Elizabeth Hayes. You’ll be an astronaut. You’ll cure cancer. You’ll do something great. Something big.”
I glow under it. I want to make him proud. I want to be everything he says I am.
The dream shifts, and so does the look in his eyes. Daddy’s voice hasn’t changed, but the warmth is gone. The praise has been replaced by something new. Disappointment.
“You can’t keep seeing that boy,” he says in that way that means there’s no point arguing. “He’ll never amount to anything. You’re meant for more than this place, Laurel. I won’t let you throw your future away.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I just… stand there, nodding like always, an odd pressure settling in my chest, the one that makes me feel small and grateful and ashamed all at once.
His hand lands on my shoulder—heavy, certain, final.
I sit upright in the bed.
“No more, Daddy.” My voice is barely a whisper. I reach for my phone, waiting as the line trills.
“Bennett Realty, this is Mercedes. How can I help you?”
“Mercy?”
“Hey! Are you here?” My bestie squeals, and I can see her doing her happy dance.
“We got in last night.”
“Woo-hoo! What are we doing first, now that you’re free?
“I’m not free, Mercy, not yet.”
Will I ever be? I can’t imagine it—me—not married, free to do whatever I please.
“You will be soon enough. Why stand on formalities—you finally left his sorry ass. Get dolled up and we’ll go out tonight.”
“Maybe tomorrow. I’ve…” Got to put this off. I’m not ready. “I have to go to the grocery store. Bowie’s out of everything he eats. I just wanted to let you know I’m here if you want to come over.”
“Since when are you chicken?”
“Since I was born.”
Heavy sigh. “Okay. Tomorrow.” She starts to hang up, then adds, “Wait. Laurel. I’m so glad your back.”
My best friend of life.
Hearing her say that takes me straight back to who we were.
People always said we looked like sisters—same coloring, same size, only Mercy’s hair is all wild chestnut-brown waves while mine is heavy and straight.
Her eyes are brown, mine hazel. We swapped everything growing up—clothes, shoes, whatever we felt like.
After a while, I couldn’t tell what belonged to who.
I want to tell her, “Me, too,” but I can’t. Not yet. “Thanks, Mercy. It’s good to hear your voice and know you’re nearby.”
Washing the sleep out of my eyes—I slept so deeply—I head for the den.
No one.
Panic crawls up my throat. Where’s Bowie?
I swallow it down.
With Mom, of course.
Okay. Shower time. Then Bowie will get his first tour of Ladera, Texas, in all its glory.
I wonder—is my hometown as tired as I am?