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“Alright little lady, where you headed?” says the Grayhound rep, snapping his gum. “What’s your final destination?”
That’s a good question. The truth is I don’t know. The Double H has always been my home, I’ve never even left Kansas before. So gulping again, I say what comes to mind.
“Far away,” comes my choked voice, while wiping tears. All the crying has made my eyes puffy and irritated, but the old man takes pity on me then. Glancing over black framed glasses, he taps on his computer, swirling his mouse, and then speaks.
“Well we can’t get you to the North Pole, but how about Colorado? That’s mighty far from here.”
I nod, sobs rising in my throat again, air passage painfully tight. The rep looks at me pityingly again, and pushes a button. The machine whirs to life, and a white ticket pops out in the slot.
“There you go,” he says, clearing his throat. “You’ll love Colorado, it’s beautiful with majestic mountains and blue skies. Plus, cool this time of year,” he adds fanning himself. “Not like Kansas.”
I take the ticket numbly, murmuring thanks, and plod through the station, eyeing the fleet of Greyhound buses. They’re huge, steel-grey machines, all lined-up and ready to go at the curb. I board my bus, snagging a window seat. But it doesn’t matter because I won’t be seeing a thing. My heart is destroyed, soul shattered in pieces. And despite everything, all I can see is Tyler’s handsome mug, those gleaming blue eyes and cocky, confident grin.
He’s the enemy, chants my mind.
He’s your husband, another voice says.
He’s your lover, a third voice intones.
Oh god, have I gone insane? Am I a schizophrenic now, with all sorts of babbling voices running in my head, crossing over each other and driving me crazy?
But the thing is, the voices are right. Tyler means so much to me that he’s every one of those things, and more. He’s the man whom I’m legally bound to before the eyes of the law. He’s the man who took my virginity, who stroked my secret spaces until I shattered. He’s also man who betrayed my loyalty and trust, the cause of my collapse.
I burrow deeper into my seat, choking back sobs as the bus pulls from the station. Covering my eyes, hopefully no one will notice the pain, but fortunately, there aren’t too many people on this ride. The closest person is three rows away and I tilt my head back, lids brimming with tears. Oh god! Tyler, Tyler!
My heart aches, a physical ache radiating through my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut against the sunshine, I will my lungs to keep breathing. The exertion distracts me, because in a matter of minutes, there’s a rough shake at my shoulder.
“Miss, Miss,” the voice says insistently, coming from far away.
What? No, leave me in my misery.
But the voice comes again.
“Miss,” it says firmly this time. “We’re here. Final stop.”
Reluctantly, my eyes open, bleary and fuzzy. What in the world? Half-heartedly, I scrub my cheeks, crusts of tears coming away with my fingers. Holy cow, I must have fallen asleep, my muscles are tight and sore, forcing me to stretch just to wake them up. And when my vision clears I recognize the heavyset bus driver. He doesn’t look too happy.
“This is our last stop,” he grunts before turning away. What? Really? Bolting up straight, I turn to look out the window. But there’s nothing to see but an anonymous bus depot, all gleaming steel and gray concrete.
“Hello Colorado,” is my soft whisper and sad smile. “Hi, I’m Maisie.”
Fear flows through me as I make my way off the bus on unsteady feet. This is my new life now. My new home. I have to forget the Double H, and at that, another wave of sadness overwhelms my frame, almost bringing me to my knees. Oh god, how am I supposed to forget? I’ve never known anything but the farm, so what am I supposed to do now?
But survival instinct forces my feet forwards.
“Hi, do you know of any hotels nearby?” I ask a lady at the information desk and she points me towards a motel just one mile up the road.
With my backpack and duffle bag in tow, I plod through the night until I’m at the door of the front office. There’s a light in the window flashing the word ‘vacancy’, so I make my way inside, bone-tired with circles under my eyes.
“Hi, I wanted to know if you have any rooms available?” I ask the lady behind the counter. She’s slim with weird-colored hair, a flat and monochromatic brown. Plus, her eyebrows are filled in with a dark pencil, and she seems to have used the same color to outline her thin lips.
But her voice is warm, stirring me out of my funk.
