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Well, fine. I had just gotten my heart broken and lost my brother, all from the actions of one night. It wasn’t fun, but as I’d just insisted to Morgan, I was an adult.
I would find a way to handle it. Somehow.
3
Pike
For the first time in four years I set foot in the town of Canyon, Texas.
My contract with the army—the standard four years—was up and although I could’ve signed on for another tour, in fact my superior officers had told me I’d done good work and they would be glad to have me stay on, I was ready for something new. And, well, I found myself unexpectedly homesick.
I appreciated the opportunity that the military had given me, but I didn’t actually like the military. I wasn’t in there because I wanted to make a career out of it. I was there to gain a sense of discipline, to not have to wonder about what I’m doing, to take the chance to step out of the real world where I had to make all the decisions and I could really figure out who I was and what I wanted for myself.
And I was fucking tired of traveling to foreign countries and only going there to fight, to cause death, not to enjoy the country or the culture. I wanted to settle back into the place that I had known as home, that I had always felt comfortable in. I’d wondered if I fit in here, I’d run away from here specifically to find myself, and it turned out that the place that I wanted to be was the place that I’d been all along.
That is, if that place still wanted me.
I’d been the bad boy of the town. I’d been tearing it up in my car for years, egging houses, TPing houses, pulling pranks, turning the community swimming pool purple, smoking out back of the gym at high school and running several small smugging rings in said school for things like banned candy, cigarettes, and booze. I hadn’t ever done anything that would really get me in major trouble. I’d never driven drunk, had never robbed a place, had never vandalized someone’s store or house beyond a quick clean up job. I’d been in fights, but I’d never jumped a guy for no reason or just because I wanted to beat the shit out of him.
The Sheriff knew me by first name though, and he’d always had a stink eye for me.
Now that I was back, would people want me back? Would they enjoy my presence? Would they be willing to see that I had changed, that I wanted to settle down into a quiet life and pursue the sense of community and belonging that I had missed while being shipped around abroad and treated like cannon fodder?
As I walked around town, I noticed that little had changed. I got off at the Greyhound bus station and then walked towards the Adams house, my first stop. Morgan had offered to look after my car for me while I was gone, and I’d been grateful to him for it, so it was the place I was headed so that I could have a home. Even if I couldn’t quite find a place to rent or buy just yet, I could always sleep in my car, and I could drive to and from work wherever I ended up getting a job. A car was freedom, here in the U.S.
Yup, the storefronts were all the same. The school looked the same. Same park benches dedicated to dead loved ones, same signs up about babysitting and dog walking, same reliable bar that we all used to go to with fake IDs only to get turned away because the bouncers and bartenders all knew our parents and weren’t fooled so easily.
One thing that had changed was that now there were a lot of artisanal coffee shops around. I knew this was a college town so I supposed that made sense but really? Lavender & Honey. Bricks and Scones. Go Get ‘Em Tiger. Aroma. Addiction Coffeehouse. What the hell guys, what was wrong with just getting a cup of coffee from your local diner or something?
The closer I got to the Adams house, the more nervous I became.
I had never heard back from Billie after I sent her that letter. I probably should’ve seen it coming, given that I’d run away after our night together, and hadn’t given her any warning about it. She probably felt abandoned. But it had hurt, and it still made me nervous to think about what kind of welcome I would get at their house as a result.
I sent a message to Morgan too, letting him know that I was coming back home and would be stopping by to pick up my car. I hadn’t heard back from him either. Morgan had once been my best friend but I hadn’t heard anything from him, and I’d tried to contact him a few times. I’d sent my one letter to Billie and had stated that if she didn’t reply, I’d know how she felt. She hadn’t replied, so I left it at that. I didn’t want to make her feel pressured. But Morgan I’d tried a few times, thinking that surely even if I had just up and left, he would eventually forgive me.
