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I should be upset. Offended maybe. But I’m so damned hungry I wolf down the pie in three bites and savor the lukewarm coffee once I add some sugar from the glass bowl on the table.
Small town cheer?
I think that’s about as cheerful as this place gets, even on a good day but it’s better than nothing.
I nurse the last sips of my coffee for a time, considering everything I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, and compare it to the past four years.
I can’t even remember one single chemical formula now that finals are done, and my past?
Well. That’s where it belongs like I said.
Some things are better off forgotten altogether.
Michael’s voice in my mind, urging me to take a few extra days before I have to head home spurs me into action.
I take a deep breath, promising myself I won’t go into any details before I bring up ‘Home’ on my speed dial and hit the call button.
The phone rings out, which is odd.
Mama and Papa, the only names I’ve ever called them, could be out. Or maybe napping?
But something in my belly tells me otherwise.
Something isn’t right.
I flick through my phone until I find the cell phone I know I gave them before I left college, hoping Papa has it switched on.
He picks up after a few rings, sounding old. Tired. But there’s an edge in his voice I don’t like as he realizes it’s his Sheree calling.
“Aww, Sheree. How’s our baby girl doin’?” he asks, forcing cheerfulness.
“Hi ya Papa,” I drawl. Unable to help it whenever I talk to either of them. It always slows things down for me, especially when I’m wound up. Like I am today. Now.
That coffee was warm but Jesus Christ it packs a punch.
Before he can even ask another question or tell me everything’s fine on their end, I ask what’s happened.
“Something’s up, Papa. Don’t tell me it isn’t. I just called the house and—”
His long sigh stops me. Silences me in an instant.
In the background, I can hear the beep of medical equipment. The overhead announcements and busy sounds of the only place I know it could be.
“What happened?” I ask him again, my blood turning to ice.
“It’s your Ma, Sheree. She took a tumble yesterday. I’m with her now, down at the hospital…”
His voice cracks with emotion and I feel like a complete heel suddenly.
In the middle of the country, worrying about my tiny problems. Wondering how I could contrive to stay away for another week so I can have Professor Grayson fuck me senseless.
A dry croak is all I can manage, and Papa is quick to let me know it’s not as bad as I might think.
“She’ll be fine, dear. No bones broken. Just a scare is all but they wanna keep her in for a few more days. Just to be sure,” he says, sniffing as quietly as he can.
Keeping a lid on his emotions as best he can.
I can picture him. Holding the hand of the love of his life in one hand. The thin plastic handset carrying my voice to him.
The only two people I know mean anything to him, and one of them, maybe both of them just aren’t what they used to be anymore.
“I can fly back early,” I say, already confused enough about things with Michael. But this. This is more serious.
Isn’t it?
Papa is quick to remind me not to make a fuss. Neither of them ever liked a fuss over anything.
“You couldn’t do any more here than anywhere else, I’m sad to say, Sheree baby,” he says mournfully.
I thought it wasn’t that bad?
“Plus. Haven’t you heard? There’s a snowstorm headed your way. Airports might be closed for the rest of next week…”
I ask him to repeat everything he’s just said.
Mama is gonna be fine, she really is and there’s a snowstorm coming. The airport is closed for at least a week.
Destiny.
Fate.
Whatever you wanna call it.
I feel its guiding hand as I make small talk with my adoptive dad, my real dad at heart, helping take his mind off things as I stare out the window.
He asks how things have been for me here and I tell him everything I know he wants to hear.
I’m fine. Nothing new. I’ll be home soon.
A little bird bounces on a twig in a tree not far from me outside. The snow that’s been holding off starts to drift down as if on cue.
The tiny bird shakes its little head, cocking it at me, freeing itself from the unexpected flakes as it puffs its reddened chest out.
It darts off the branch.
Fearless. Knowing just where it’s headed, even though it knows there’s a storm coming.
Chapter Twelve
Michael
Zoe calls as I’m driving and I pick up straight away from the button on the steering wheel.
“Hey honey, I’m just on my—” I start, but she’s already talking over me.
