Underestimated (59 page)

your house as soon as he dropped me off, didn’t he?”

I ran my fingers through my long hair and looked

up to the sun with closed eyes. Of course we were going

to go there. I give the fuck up. “Yeah, he stopped by,” I

tried.

“Did he spend the night or just stop by?”

“Does it really matter? You told me that you were

going to step out of the picture so that I could see if it was

him that I wanted. How am I supposed to do that if I’m not

around him?”

“So he did spend the night. You fucked him too,

didn’t you?”

“Really Drew?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I won’t bother you

anymore. You drive safe, okay.”

“Drew,” was all that I was able to get out before I

heard the silence and looked to see his name blinking on

my phone.

Fuck…

I wasn’t going to have to worry about choosing.

They were both pissed off now. Fine, I was better off. I

could go anywhere I wanted to go. I wouldn’t live in

Misty Bay or Vegas. They could both go to hell.

I went straight to my room, packed a bag, and got

into my new car and headed south. I stopped at the coffee

shop, had a cup of coffee and a pastry with Starlight

before heading out.

“I wish there was something that I could do to

help. I hate it that you are going through this, Ry,” Star

said, sympathetically.

“I’ll be fine, Star. I have had a life that tends to

make you pretty strong. I’ll get through it, one way or

another.”

Star hugged me and told me that if I needed

anything to call.

I put in the address for Rodanthe, North Carolina. I

didn’t even groan when the robotic voice told me that I

would be driving for almost fifteen hours. I was actually

looking forward to it. I hoped that neither Drew nor

Dawson called. I listened to Lauren and Levi on my

satellite radio all the way until they signed off, and then

changed it to an oldies rock station. It brought back

memories of living in West Virginia.

I thought about my cousins that I hadn’t seen in

years, my dad, who wasn’t my dad after all, and my

grandma who passed away when I was only sixteen. I

thought about my friends from school, which was really

only Julie Waybright. She was as poor as me, and was just

as much of an outcast as I was. She got herself pregnant

when she was fifteen and had two kids living on welfare

by the time she was eighteen. I wondered how she was,

and hoped that she wasn’t another statistic, popping out

kids and living with an alcoholic.

For some stupid reason, I reprogrammed my GPS

and headed right to my old hometown. I wasn’t sure why.

It was going to add eight hours to my destination, but what

the hell. I had time. I wouldn’t stay. I just wanted to drive

through, just for old times’ sake, not that the old times

were pleasant but still.

I stopped and got a hotel in New York around nine

at night, taking a pizza with me. I know I said that I hoped

that Drew or Dawson didn’t call, but I was surprised that

either of them hadn’t. Weren’t they worried about me or

wondered where I was? Of course, they both did think that

I wasn’t leaving until the next day. I still couldn’t believe

that one of them hadn’t called. They didn’t, and when I

checked my phone at seven the next morning, there was

nothing from either of them. I know, I know, that’s what I

wanted. Whatever.

It only took me four hours to make it to my old

roots. Not a lot had changed. It looked as poor and

rundown as it had the day I was forced to leave. It almost

made me happy that Drew had bought me. I bought me. I

laughed, saying that out loud. I turned down the old dirt

road to the trailer. It was abandoned. The aluminum had

been ripped off, probably for scrap, and the windows

were all broken out. I’m not sure why, but I parked my

expensive car in the drive. I looked around, nervously.

This wasn’t the place for a female in a fancy car to be

poking around. The closest house was barely visible from

our old trailer. I didn’t see anything that warned me not to

go in, so I got out, locked the door with the two beeps, and

walked up the old steps.

“Fuck,” I called out when my foot went through the

rotten plywood on the little porch. It hurt. I felt the burn up

my calf from the wood scrape. Of course my shoe had to

fall underneath when I tried to pull it out of the hole. That

should have been enough of a warning to get back in my

car and get the hell out of there, but determined me had to

go in. Once I retrieved my shoe, I walked along the edge

of the porch so that I didn’t fall through again.

I pushed the door. It was hard to push because it

was weathered and warped. It looked like some local kids

had been using it for a party pad, but not recently, I didn’t

think. There were ashtrays running over, beer bottles,

liquor bottles, decomposed food, and empty packs of

condoms strung about.

The same table, couch, and wood stove were still

there from when had I lived there. I walked into the

kitchen and opened the cabinets. Our mismatched dishes

were still in the cupboards. It was like my dad had just left

and left everything behind. I wondered where he was. Did

he die? Did he move? I walked back to mine and Justin’s

bedroom, and it too still had the same old mattress thrown

on the floor. My old dresser that wasn’t much of a dresser

when I used it was still in the corner. I got excited when I

saw it.

A couple of days before I was to leave with Drew

Kelly, I placed a square tin in the back, underneath the

bottom drawer. It was one of those tins that you get

cookies in at Christmas. I think the local church had

dropped it off for my brother and me one year. I slid the

dresser out and screamed to the top of my lungs. A hiding

cat jumped out with a squeal and darted right under my

legs out the door.

Jesus H Christ…

My heart was now beating out of my chest. I swear

it was. I held my hand on the corner of the nasty old

dresser and held my chest, trying to regain my bearings.

What the hell was I doing there? I pulled the thin sheet of

wood from behind the dresser and there it was, just where

I had left it. I picked it up and beat it on top of the dresser

to knock the mice shit off of it.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Awwww,” I let out a blood curdling scream.

There went my heart again. I turned to see a big burly man

with a beard clear down his chest. His head was wrapped

in a rebel flag do-wrap, and I could tell that he had long

hair in a ponytail hanging down his back. His arms were

covered in raunchy girl tattoos that were clearly

unprofessional.

“ Bobby?” I asked.

“Morgan?” my first cousin, Bobby said, and then

grabbed me up into a big bear hug.

“Where the hell you been chica?” he asked,

grinning his missing teeth smile.

“Oh, around,” I replied. “How the hell are you?

You grew up,” I stated. Bobbie must have been about

fifteen when I had left. He was a scrawny little, pimpled

face kid the last time that I had seen him.

“Is that your fancy ass car out there?”

“No. I just borrowed it for a few days. I drive a

1993 piece of shit.” It wasn’t a complete lie, and with my

cut off jean shorts and my ace of spades t-shirt, I thought

that I could pull it off.

“It’s sweet as hell,” he exclaimed. “How long you

in town for?”

“Just passing through, I’m not sure why I even

came here to tell you the truth.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” he smiled.

I talked to my cousin who really was no relation at

all now that I knew that my dad wasn’t my dad, but I

wasn’t about to tell him that. I hadn’t been around him in

years. I didn’t trust him at all. We walked around the

trailer poking around. There wasn’t really anything there

that I wanted. It was all pretty much trash. I did find a

couple of pictures that had seen their better day. I took

them and placed them on top of my tin box. I didn’t open

the box yet. I decided to wait until I was alone for that. I

really couldn’t even remember what was in it.

“Do you know where my dad is Bobby?” I asked,

plundering through a drawer in my parent’s room. There

was nothing there, some old bills, a penknife, and a

container of KY.

“He lives in town now, over top of the

Laundromat. He married Connie Patterson, you remember

her?”

“Yeah, she worked with my mom,” I replied. I

knew exactly who she was. She was the truck stop whore.

She’d broken the record for the most times being in the

bunk of a semi-truck.

“Where’s your mama?”

“She lives in North Carolina now. I don’t talk to

her much anymore.” That wasn’t a complete lie either.

Okay, I was a liar.

“You gonna go see your pop?” Bobbie asked.

Fuck no…bastard sold me.

“Nah, we didn’t really split on good terms,” I

smiled.

Bobby walked me out to my car, carrying my

treasures.

“You sure you don’t want stay the night. We’ll

probably end up over at Booner’s later on.”

I had no clue who Booner even was, and there was

no way in hell I was staying there.

“I’m meeting a friend. I can’t, but thanks for the

offer. It was good seeing you.”

Please don’t hug me.

“You come back and see me now, hear?” Bobby

said with a big brawny hug.

“I will. You take care.”

I had decided before I backed out of my old drive

that I wouldn’t go all the way that day. I didn’t think I

would go far at all. I felt dirty, and was kind of grossed

out from walking around my abandoned, childhood home.

My head itched, too. I knew I was just being paranoid, but

I wanted a shower. I was hungry and wasn’t about to touch

food until I had one.

I drove for eight hours. Not what I had planned on

doing at all. I was so hungry I almost perished. I drove all

the way to Point Harbor. All I needed to do was take the

ferry to I-165, and I would be at my mother’s. I got a room

at a rather expensive hotel. There was no reason for it to

be that expensive, except for the fact that it was a tourist

trap. I knew I didn’t need to be concerned with a hundred

and seventy five dollars. I could drop that all day long and

never put a dent in how much money I had. That part

would probably never change. When you grow up on

dented cans of donated baked beans, you tend to ration a

little.

I used lots of antibacterial soap and washed the

nastiness away from the tin. I smiled remembering the

scene on the top and around the sides. I had sat on the

couch with Justin when he was probably three or so. We

were alone and trying to stay warm. We sat on the couch

and ate the stale cookies as we observed the Norman

Rockwell painting.

“And we’ll live in this house, and play in the barn,

and walk along the dirt road by the stream.”

“And go pishen in dat pond,” Justin explained,

pointing his little finger to the painted pond.

I smiled running my fingers over the scene, the

scene that his little fingers had touched. I could hear his

little voice as plain as day. God, I missed that little man. I

still hadn’t opened the tin, and decided to shower and find

some food before I really did perish.

I walked along the sidewalks and tourist trap

vendors. I laughed when I saw the abundant amount of

jewelry hanging from hooks from one of the street

vendors. It was necklaces, bracelets, key chains, you name

it, and anything that could be hung from a chain, this guy

had it.

“Would you like a cheap piece of history,” the guy

asked.

“History?” I smirked.

“The finest sea glass around,” he smiled.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to do it. “Buddy, there

is not one thing here that is real sea glass.”

His expression changed. He knew that I knew my

shit. “Well, it was found on the beach,” he assured me.

“Yeah, from a spring break party maybe,” I

replied, and kept walking. I heard him ask the next naïve