I laugh freely now, feeling a little lighter. “Okay, Freak, I’m leaving now.”
“Byyyye,” she says with a twang, and pulls her dark sunglasses down off her head to cover her watery eyes. She steps back as I pull away from the curb.
I try not to look back as I drive away, but my traitorous eyes steal a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. She steps out into the street and begins waving her hands back and forth wildly, and I come to an abrupt stop. Did I forget something?
She bends over laughing and waves me on to go.
“Freak!” I shake my head and narrow my teary eyes at her. I’m really going to miss you.
* * *
The sun is shining and my stomach is full as I make the final leg of my trip home. I hold my phone to my ear for the two seconds it takes Trisha to pick up.
“Hey!”
“Guess where I just ate,” I say to her.
“Um...can you narrow it down to a city for me?”
“Savannah.”
She pulls in an audible breath. “The café where we had brunch last summer?”
I smile, thinking of the weekend she and I spent in Savannah, shopping and eating our way through the historic town. “I did.”
“Did you get the shrimp and grits?”
“Of course. And I devoured it while gazing out at the Intracoastal Waterway.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so jealous.”
“It definitely wasn’t the same without you.”
“Did you get the fried green tomatoes?”
“I was stuffed, but I got some for my dad. They’re his favorite.”
“Okay, well now that my mouth is watering, I’m going to go grab some lunch. Call me when you get there!”
“I will.”
I end the call, turn my radio up, and roll down my windows. The farther away I get from Raleigh, the better I seem to feel. I catch a smile on my face in the rearview mirror and stretch my hand out of my window to feel the warm summer air rushing against my palm. It swirls through my fingers. I raise my hand and lower it again, surfing through the waves of wind.
I breathe in the familiar smell of brackish water as I cross the first bridge over the salt marsh that stretches between the Georgia coast and St. Simons Island, and my eyes scan everything, eager to see the view that was just a memory until now.
The water snakes around the gold and green grass, and sparkles under the sun. There are a couple of small sailboats docked near the shore, rocking gently in the calm water, and two white egrets perched on a tangled branch that’s sticking up out of the water. My heart swells. If I could hug this view I would.
Driving across the Island is somewhat surreal. Everything seems different, though nothing has really changed. I’m guessing it’s probably me who is different.
It doesn’t take me more than fifteen minutes to get to my parents’ neighborhood. As I drive along the familiar streets, I survey the houses. Ms. Baker’s house is just as beautiful as it always was. The traditional southern style ranch, with its wide front porch and big white columns, has always been my favorite house in the neighborhood. Black rocking chairs, hanging green ferns, and an American flag add to its timeless charm. My parents’ house is a traditional two story with a wraparound porch and a covered walkway that leads to the detached garage.
I see my mom and dad waiting for me on the front steps when I pull up the bricked driveway and I wave at them out of my window.
“There’s my girl!” my dad says, hurrying over to open my car door.
“Hey, Daddy!”
“I can’t believe my baby girl is finally home.” He opens my door and pulls me out of my car and into his arms.
“I’m practically an old maid now.”
“You’ll always be my baby girl,” he says, squeezing me tight.
“Hi, Momma,” I mumble over his shoulder.
She squeezes in and my dad wraps his arm around her too. “Both my girls back under one roof.”
It’s hard not to smile at his excitement, but when he releases me, I see a familiar sadness in his eyes. He quickly masks it and grabs a few of my bags from the car, and then we head inside.
When I walk through the front door, I breathe in the familiar scent of the house and it comforts me and saddens me at the same time. How can one bad year overshadow twenty-one good ones? It doesn’t seem fair. I sigh quietly and try not to think about those difficult months as I follow my mom to the kitchen.
“Made your favorite,” she says, pointing to the cake stand that held all of our birthday cakes growing up. “Coconut cake.”
“Oh, wow, that looks amazing.” I squeeze her hand and smile softly. “Let’s have a piece,” I say, knowing how happy it makes her to feed us.
“Don’t you want to get unpacked first?”
“Nope.” I shake my head and lean over the counter to look at it.
She smiles and lifts the glass lid off the beautiful, fluffy white cake.
My dad opens his fried green tomatoes and gobbles them up before she even makes the first cut. “Oh, man. Thank you, baby,” he says to me, throwing the box away.
I give him a one-armed hug around his wide waist. “You’re welcome.”
The three of us sit around the kitchen table, trying to enjoy the delicious cake that my mother made, but not even my father can hide how much it hurts to be back together without Brandon. I place my hand over his and he smiles softly over his sadness. “You don’t have to be strong for me, Daddy.”
He lowers his head and then looks at me with weary eyes. “We’ll always miss him, won’t we?”
I get up and wrap my arms around his neck. “Yes.”
I feel my mom’s hand on mine. “Come on, honey. Brandon wouldn’t want us to be sad today. Today is a day to celebrate. You’re finally home!”
I look up at her smiling face, awed by her strength, and pull myself away from my father. I hug her on my way to the kitchen sink and then I rinse my plate off. “I’m going to head upstairs and start unpacking.”
“Want some help?” she asks.
“No. I won’t be too long. You got all of the fish hooks out of my bed, right?” I smile softly.
“Ha...Ha,” my dad says, getting up from the table, and my mom and I both grin. “I’ll go get the rest of your things from the car, baby.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I smile and head over to the stairs, pausing to look at the framed pictures on the wall as I climb them. I stare at Brandon in his black tuxedo. Even all dressed up for his senior picture, he looked like a surfer, with his sandy blond hair combed to the side and the sun-kissed freckles on his tan face.
He was so young. He still had so much life in front of him. He’ll never graduate from college. He’ll never get married or have kids. He’ll never be an uncle to my kids, if I ever have any.
You’re thirty, jobless, and living with your parents, my conscience reminds me. Don’t count on it.
“Almost thirty,” I grumble quietly. And I won’t be staying here long. Only until I find a place to rent.
When my heavy feet reach the top step, I see a small framed picture sitting on the hall table that stops me in my tracks. Gabe and Brandon are sitting on the tailgate of a truck after one of their hunting trips. I pick it up and hold it out in front of me. They must be twelve or thirteen. I touch their young faces and think, Why couldn’t it have stayed like that?