Page 97 of Within These County Lines

I remove one of my earbuds. “What?”

“You have a guest.”

My brow furrows. “Who?”

He shrugs with a smirk, like it’s a joke I don’t get.

My heart rate spikes, equal to the pace of a stampede of deer running through Penango’s fields. I picture Murray in my dad’s armchair, holding a response to my letter, waiting for me.

I barrel through the front door and trip over a laundry basket in the foyer, my eyes locked on the living room. When I pass the threshold, I freeze. Every muscle contracts. My breath catches in my throat.

Murray stands under the archway between the kitchen and dining room.

Has he finally received my texts?

He holds a brown box with two milkshakes and a basket of curly fries from the Bean. His nails are covered in dirt, and his fingers are taped fresh from football practice. I focus on the food before meeting his eyes. His buzz cut is so overgrown that his hair is nearly slicked back against the sides of his head. Sunburned, pink skin peels across the bridge of his nose.

For the first time in a long time, I’m happy to see him. I know he misses seeing me. I wonder if he can right now.

He stares up at the chandelier with a blank face. I steady my feet and release the breath I was holding. I almost don’t want to speak. Because once I do, I’ll know for sure.

“Murray,” I say, digging my fingernails into my palm.

He tilts his head and looks at me like a dog hearing a new sound. His lips part as if he’s about to say something.

He coughs. I jump.

“Murray,” I repeat, stepping closer. His body odor covers me in nostalgia, thick as a morning fog.

Then, “Hi, Stetson,” he says. “I haven’t heard from you and wanted to check if you’re all right.”

I clap my hand over my mouth. Warmth spreads down my legs and up into my head. My whole body shakes with a sob. His image blurs.

The curse is broken.

He smiles. “I applied for that off-campus apartment by Penango College,” he says. “I told Whitley. I don’t know if the message reached you. We can live there if you don’t go to Tennessee. It’s basically free since I’m on the football team. It’s not that far, but it could still be something different.” The box of food trembles in his hands. “I can show you I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Murray.” I sigh. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“And I think you have a point about getting away from here and seeing new places. My family’s been in Penango for a hundred years and I don’t think it’s done us any favors.” He licks his lips. “We could transfer together after two years at the community college.”

“Please.” I step toward him. “You’re never going to believe what’s happened to me.”

He frowns. His shoulders slump and for the first time maybe ever, his lean muscles appear weak and deflated.

“Two years?” He scratches his head. “Or just one year?”

“Huh?” I question, dropping my chin.

“We could transfer after one year.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, that sounds better.” He beats his chest. “I got this.”

“Murray,” I say firmly.

I stop breathing. Not this again. I know this conversation, how it goes and how it ends. My tears dry up faster than they came.

“God, where is he?” Murray huffs. He looks past me out the bay window.

“Stop!” I yell. “I’m here.” My voice breaks. “I’m here. I’m here.” I try to drown out his words. “Please stop talking.”