Chapter 1 #2
It was three hours before I was called to see my social worker, Verna Pressley.
Mrs. Pressley was a woman about her job, and I respected that.
She was a civilian who was the spouse of a fallen soldier.
After his death, she dedicated her life to the betterment of other soldiers. It was what gave her purpose.
“Minnow, I really think you should open up to going to therapy. I know you said you don’t think you need it, but your psychiatrist thinks otherwise,” she said in her motherly voice. Her eyes were filled with concern, and her smile was soft.
I had no idea why we had to go through this every visit. It didn’t interest me to sit in a room with a bunch of other veterans to reminisce about some of the worst days of my life. A good day in my mind was when I didn’t have to squeeze. A bad day was when I did.
“Mrs. Pressley, how about we just not. I’m thinking about moving. Atlanta is becoming too much for me. I need something different . . . something quiet.” My shoulders lifted to my ears. “I don’t know.”
My fingers rubbed along my short, blonde hairline.
I kept my hair short, natural with a little curl at the top, and tapered.
It was easy to maintain without the need of a hairstylist. All I had to do was take my ass to the barbershop, and I was good.
Men understood when you didn’t want to engage, but most women were too nosy to not try to engage.
I wasn’t interested in having female friends—well, friends, period. Friends equaled explanations.
“Okay, Minnow, one last thing, and we can leave it alone. There are programs like K9 Battle Buddies for Vets. I think you could benefit from that possibly. I’m going to leave that alone for now.
As far as you leaving Atlanta, you’re not the first that I’ve heard say that.
It can be a lot and a place that’s not very accommodating for individuals who suffer from PTSD. ”
She got quiet for a minute. While she thought, I scanned her office from my seat. She didn’t have too much going on in here. We didn’t have personal family conversations. I knew about her husband because I'd heard someone mention it in the waiting room once.
Her voice interrupted my thoughts. “Have you ever heard of Plasters, Georgia? It’s about an hour and twenty minutes away from here.
It’s a small town. I’m talking a few stop lights, one major grocery store, which is a Piggly Wiggly.
They don’t have a hotel, but they have a bed-and-breakfast. Have you heard of it? ”
“No, I’m not familiar, but it sounds peaceful.
I bet they have clear skies.” The last part came out in a mumble.
I spent a lot of time on the rooftop of my apartment building.
There was a special spot that I found just for me.
My apartment was on the fourth floor, but the building in front of it obscured the view of pretty much everything.
I wanted a higher floor, but it was out of my price range.
She smiled. “Well, there is a family farm business and butcher shop, Dawson Premium Cuts Butcher Shop, which is Black, veteran owned. Victor, or Vic, hires vets often.”
“How do you know about the place? It seems like a golden gem. I couldn’t imagine you just giving it out like that. It would be flooded with veterans.” When people heard about a good thing, they wanted to take advantage of it. Plasters sounded like a good thing.
Mrs. Pressley smiled. “Well, I don’t tell everyone about Plasters. I know about it because I was born and raised there. It is, in fact, one of the best golden gems. When you have time, why don’t you go down there and check it out. I think it’s just what you need.”
I wasn’t sure if she was right. It did sound like something that would intrigue me.
I loved to be intrigued. There really was nothing that I could lose if I checked it out.
I could do my job anywhere, so I could stay a week.
If I didn’t like it, then I would come back to Atlanta.
If I did like it, then I would pivot. Let’s see if a pivot is needed.
The Next Day
Let’s See What This Is About . . .
Mrs. Pressley was right about Plasters, Georgia. There wasn’t shit here, and my heart loved that. On the drive here, I saw so much land for sale. I never thought myself to be a country kind of girl, but I had grown to be. It probably came from some of my deployments if I had to guess.
The first place that I needed to go was to the bed-and-breakfast to secure a room. Rosebuds Bed & Breakfast was a quaint little establishment. It was a gorgeous house, and the landscaping was immaculate. I understood the name because there were roses everywhere. It was breathtaking.
I parked in the gravel parking lot, turned my SUV off, checked my mirrors, then opened my driver’s side door.
I grabbed my duffel and book bag from the back seat before I headed to the front door.
My eyes scanned the perimeter of the porch and front door before I went up the stairs.
I paused for a second before I opened the door and walked in.
“Welcome to Rosebuds Bed & Breakfast,” the woman at the front desk greeted. She wore a huge smile. If I had to guess, she was in her late forties or early fifties.
I walked up to the counter. I kept my bag in my duffel bag in my hand and my book bag on my back. “Yes, I would like to rent a room for a week if there is one available, please.”
“I sure do have one available, sweetie. Since you’re staying for a week, I’ll put you in our cozy king at the rate of our standard double. Are you new to town?” she asked me.
This was what I spoke about. Women talked too much. Would it be too much for her to just check me in and keep it moving? I was in a small town now, so I knew it would be worse. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Well, it’s nice to see new blood in Plasters, especially when the blood is so pretty. Oh, the boys are going to do double takes at you. My name is Mrs. Cook. I’m the owner here and the Rosebuds Diner in town.”
She’s still talking and hasn’t given me a price or asked for payment yet. Am I smiling too much? “Oh, okay. I’ve never stayed at a bed-and-breakfast. For the breakfast part of it, how does that work?”
“Oh, yes. Well, it’s served in our great room, buffet style, or for a nominal fee, we can deliver a plate of your choice from the menu to your room. Let me get your ID and your credit card, sweetie.” Finally.
I reached into my fanny pack, pulled out what I needed, and handed it over.
She looked at my ID and smiled but didn’t say anything.
She told me that my total for the week was $897.
That wasn’t bad at all in my opinion. After she was finished, she handed me back my things and an old-fashioned room key. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you for your service, Ms. Winters. To get to your room, go to the right at the top of the stairs, and 203 is at the end of the hall,” she told me.
My head snapped to the right at the sound of footsteps. Instinctively, my hand went to my waist. Three teenage boys walked in from a back hall. They laughed with each other loudly.
“Kevin, James, and Chris, what did I tell y’all about being so loud!” Mrs. Cook yelled. “Y’all better not be out there causing any trouble. Sheriff Crawford already told y’all he would lock y’all lil asses up.”
Yeah, this is definitely a small town because professionalism is out the window.
The mannerism of the boys told me that her words went in one ear and out of the other.
When one of them told her to shut up as they walked out of the door, I knew for a fact that they didn’t give a damn about what she said.
I didn’t want anything to do with it. More than that, I didn’t want to engage in a conversation about adolescent boys.
I turned and made my way up the stairs to my room.
My room may have been to the right, but that didn’t stop my leftward glance.
Four doors. I wouldn’t assume that they were all rooms. I walked toward my room. The layout on this side was the same.
Scan the frame . . . key in lock . . . pause.
I turned the key, paused again, then opened the door.
“Oh, wow!” I was very impressed with the room.
I had a preconceived notion that it would be a little dated, but it was anything but.
It rivaled the inside of five-star hotels.
I did my normal checks inside of the room before I ventured to the bathroom.
The bathroom was just as impressive. The claw-foot tub was to die for, and I loved the glass shower as well. I opened the sealed, full size bodywash, lotion, shampoo, and conditioner. They all had a citrus smell that I liked.
After I finished checking my room, I unpacked, then tried out the bed.
The way the mattress engulfed me in its fluffy love should have been studied, then told to the world.
I lifted my arm to glance at my watch. A little nap couldn’t hurt.
I set my alarm to wake up in three hours.
Let’s see if this mattress can handle the way I toss and turn.