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The darkness I carry hangs heavy over my head. My carefree football days are long gone, so I don’t need to be here any longer. “I’m heading out.”
“Going to see your ma?” McGilley asks.
“Heading there now.” I tap the bar top and head for the door. “See you around, gentlemen.”
The sun is setting when I head down Main Street and take the curve out to the small two-bedroom house with faded blue wood siding. It’s dark when I pull up the dirt drive but can tell it’s not changed. I cut the engine, surprised the sound of the Harley didn’t drag my mom to the window. The lights are on inside, and a few of the shades are still open. The TV is muffled but heard through the thin walls of the old house. It needs some care. If I stay more than a day or two, I can help her out, make sure things are in good working order before I leave again.
I think about walking in the back door like I always have but then decide against it. She hasn’t heard from me in a few months and hasn’t seen me for years, so I head to the front and knock like a stranger.
The dented metal door opens, and she pushes the screen door with her hand before leaning against the frame. A mischievous smile appears, tipping up one side. I’ve been told I smile the same way. Guess I learned from the best. Her hair is pinned back, but some strands from a long day of work have fallen. She’s dressed like she has someplace to go, but I know better. She’s a homebody by choice. Meredith Koster just likes to look good. Crossing her arms, she says, “Well, if it isn’t my long-lost son. What brings you to town, kid?”
The kid reference makes me smile. It also makes me miss the innocence that the name suggests. “Just thought it was time for a visit.”
She drops the hard-ass act and opens her arms. “Come here.” Hugging me tight, she adds, “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know why you like to worry me like you do.”
One front door. Two deadbolts. One chain. A screen door.
Back door. Three small windows. Two locks. Fourteen windows in total.
It feels good to hug her again. I’m way bigger than she is, having grown taller than her by the eighth grade, but she still hugs me as if I’m her baby. Backing into the house, she says, “Get on in here and close the door behind you. You’re letting bugs in.”
The screen door screeches closed, and I shut the front door, locking it behind me even though I’ve never considered myself the paranoid type. I probably should be, considering what I’ve been up to, but I’ve never felt unsafe being here.
She moves into the kitchen as I drop my backpack on the floor. Peeking out, she says, “You sure are traveling light these days.”
“A couple of changes of clothes. The basics are all I need.” I leave the rest out and start for the kitchen. Sidetracked by the framed photos on a bookcase, I take in my graduation photo. It’s hard to miss, being she ordered the largest size. Another photo of me as the quarterback my senior year and one from my Little League days stand beside it. I don’t linger too long since it reminds me of breaking my arm in college, which ended my glory days.
Bending down, I see a smaller five-by-seven from prom. I touch the glass, wishing I could caress her face again. Delilah Noelle. The belle of the ball. The queen of my heart. The town darling. We made a good-looking couple, a match in every way—good grades, big dreamers, determined to leave this town. On the surface, she was the head cheerleader who fell for the football star. So unoriginal. We were so much more than that to each other.
People used to say we were so sweet together we gave them a toothache. Chuckling, I lower my hand and take a breath.
“I can’t seem to pack it away,” my mom says.
Sounds a lot like my feelings for Delilah, despite how hard I’ve tried to outgrow them.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see my mom coming with two glasses of iced tea. “How long are you staying?”
She respects my privacy, homing in on the fact that I have no intention of talking about the girl in the photo or the woman across town.
I take a glass. “How long will you have me?”
“As long as you need.” She curls up on the couch and takes a sip.
“I’m not hiding out, Mom.”
“Okay, as long as you want then. I’ve cleaned your room, and you have plenty of clothes in the closet and in the dresser. I can take you out shopping tomorrow for anything else you might need.”
