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He laughed loudly this time. “Home? I don’t have a fucking home.”
I winced. I hadn’t meant to say that. I wasn’t thinking. Then he grabbed my face with both his hands and looked at me. “You could be my home. I’d be happy then.”
I stood frozen a moment, then grabbed his wrists and eased his hands off my face. “Uh, okay, yeah, you need to get back in the truck,” I told him.
He looked around and then back at me. “Why are you out here alone?” he asked. “It’s late.”
“I went for a run,” I told him. “Now get in the truck. Let me help you.”
He grabbed my hand. “Come with me,” he slurred.
I chuckled. “Can’t do that. You need sleep. You’ll feel differently in the morning.”
“Yeah, like shit,” he agreed. “I’ll feel like shit.”
I had never been drunk, but I was positive he was correct.
Asa climbed back into the truck then. I didn’t have to help him, though I doubted I could do much. He outweighed me significantly. When he was seated, I pointed at his seat belt. “Put that on.”
He gave me a drunken grin. “I think I love you, Ezmita Ramos.”
I said nothing. I just stood there.
He was drunk and leaving tomorrow. He’d not texted, called, or come by in over a week. Asa didn’t love me, but hearing him say the words hurt. It hurt because when I heard those words from someone I loved, I wanted them to be special. Used with a respect for the power that those words held.
“Oh boy,” the guy driving said. “It’s time to get you to Nash’s. You need a bed, dude.”
Asa let his head fall back on the car seat. “Yeah. I do.”
I closed the truck door and then walked away. My heart hurting yet again because of Asa Griffith. I was ready to let him go. I wanted to not get hurt by him anymore. I thought I was making progress this week, but then he sliced me open with three words that should have never been said.
The truck drove away, but I didn’t turn to see it go. Tomorrow that truck would drive out of Lawton and head to Mississippi. I wouldn’t see it at the gas pump, or see it driving down the street. I didn’t know when he’d come back here. Where he’d go when school was out.
He was starting a new life. I had been the last part of his old life. The realization made the sadness worse. When I reached the store, I didn’t walk around to the house. I wasn’t in the mood to go home just yet. I headed for the bench in the back where Papa hid during the day to read. If he thought Momma didn’t know he was hiding to read instead of working, then he was delusional.
Just as I sat down, the back door to the store opened and out walked Malecon. Not who I wanted to see. I wanted quiet, and he was not quiet or peaceful.
“You hiding from your mom?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
“Because this is where your dad hides, so I figured you were doing the same.”
“Oh,” I replied, hoping he’d go away now.
He started breaking down the cardboard boxes piled up by the garbage.
“Can you do that tomorrow?” I asked.
He looked back at me. “Have you met your mom?” he replied.
Good point. I sighed, then stood back up. If he was going to be out here, I might as well go inside.
“He’s not worth it,” Malecon said as I began to walk away.
“Who?” I asked him, sounding as annoyed as I felt.
“The guy. The one that has you looking like your heart is broken. Guys aren’t worth it. Trust me. I am one.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop acting like you know me. You don’t.”
He slid a flattened box into the recycle container, then glanced back over his shoulder again. “I don’t have to know you to know that some guy, probably the snake handler, has you in a funk. I have three sisters. I know that look.”
“Good night, Malecon,” I said, then started walking toward the house.
“You can’t trust those religious sorts that handle snakes. They’re crazy as hell,” he called out after me.
And… I laughed.
JULY 31, 2020 Go Give ’Em Hell
CHAPTER 41
ASA
I parked my truck for the last time in the driveway of the place I used to live. Boxes were sitting on the cement in front of me. My father had sent a text message that he had my things boxed up and waiting on me to come get them before I left. Nash pulled up in the old farm truck I’d bought from his dad with the money I’d made working this summer. He’d refused to take money for letting me stay at their house, but he said he’d sell me the truck for two grand.
