Page 11 of The Wreckage of Us


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“Hazel, before you go, how’s your mom? With the whole pregnant thing?” he asked, stomping out the cigarette. “Is Charlie treating her right? Making sure she’s eating and shit?”

I shook my head. “You know Charlie only has a one-track mind. And it’s not on my mother. I was the one making sure she was being cared for, not him. And somehow he managed to have her turn on me.”

Garrett pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I swore, the guy smoked like a chimney. “I’ll check in on her for you, to make sure she’s not missing her vitamins and shit.”

Well, that’s nice and extremely out of character.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. My mom will probably want to make sure she’s good too.”

Garrett’s mother, Sadie, had been Mama’s best friend through the good and the bad. Sadie wasn’t a bad person. She’d just been placed in bad situations.

Like a lot of people, I supposed.

Garrett flipped his lighter on and off in his free hand. “You should get lost, though, before Charlie finds you here and gives you and me hell.”

I left, passing teenagers being rowdy on the streets and adults being rowdier inside Carl’s Bar due to the freedom of Friday night.

I kept going even though my feet burned from walking so much. I couldn’t wear my combat boots, seeing as how I’d ruined them in the pigpens, so I was stuck wearing stupid, uncomfortable flip-flops that I’d taken from my mother without her knowing.

Without much thought, I found myself back at the ranch. It seemed like the only place I could think of going. The barn house was lit up with music blasting, probably from Ian’s band, and for the most part it sounded amazing—minus the crappy lyrics.

Don’t get me wrong; Ian could sing. The lyrics were just piles of crap.

Behind the barn house, through the wooded area, was a small abandoned shed that I’d found a few days ago while trying to release a cramp in my hip. I walked in that direction and opened the door.

There wasn’t much inside, but there was a beat-up old rug that I rolled out. It would serve well as a bed for the night. “It’s just like camping, Hazel. Just like camping,” I told myself. There was a big hole in the roof of the shed that showcased the star-filled sky. Whenever I looked up at the sky, I felt at peace. The galaxy made me feel small, and oddly enough, that made me feel better about things. Almost as if there was so much to the world that my current situation wasn’t too dire. Things would turn around. They had to at some point. Life wasn’t meant to be this sad, and I was certain I’d find my way out of this godforsaken town sooner or later. I’d hoped that Mama would join me, but it was clear she’d chosen her side and I was no longer on her team.

I laid one of the bags with my clothes in them on the rug and used it as a pillow. I stared up through the hole toward the sky and listened to the Wreckage create sounds that were worth hearing. I may have hated their lead singer, but it was no lie that as a whole their sound was breathtaking.

Now, if only those lyrics were better ...

I closed my eyes that night to the sounds of Ian Parker’s voice, and I tried my best to not think about anything else.

Tomorrow would be better, and the sun would rise again.

History seemed to be on my side, because the sun did rise the following morning. I was having a hard time shaking off the feeling of betrayal from Mama, but at least I had work to keep me busy. Even though I was supposed to have the day off, I still showed up to work around the ranch. If I was working, I couldn’t think about my current homeless situation. When you were shoveling manure, it was hard to think about anything other than the fact that you wanted to vomit.

Plus, now that I was squatting in the broken-down shed, I didn’t have to walk thirty minutes to and from work every night. Silver linings.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a raspy voice boomed as I sat in the stables, brushing Dottie, the most beautiful horse I’d ever set my eyes on. Dottie and I had shared an apple not too long ago, and since then, we’d been engaging in girl talk, because my life was now at the stage where I talked to animals to feel less alone.

Groovy.

Truthfully, animals were a lot kinder than humans, so I counted my newfound friendship with Dottie as the ultimate win.

“I thought I’d stop in to help around today,” I replied to the Grumpy McGrump Ian standing in the doorframe.

I wondered if he knew what a smile was ... I was certain he had more reasons to smile than I did, and still, I found enough reasons to do it.

“You aren’t on the schedule,” he scolded.

“I know. I was in the neighborhood.”

“Well, get out of the neighborhood.”

“Why does it matter? The guys hardly brush Dottie and the others the way they should be brushed. If anything, you should be happy that I’m helping.”

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