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LENNON
We leave the lake early on Monday morning. Colt drives. Luke rides shotgun. I’m squished between Caleb and Jake in the middle seat, but I don’t really mind.
I rest my head against Caleb’s shoulder, taking advantage of the opportunity to lean against him. His hand rests on my knee, occasionally drawing circles on the bare skin.
I feel closer to him than I have in a while. Not just physically, although there’s a pleasant ache between my legs that reminds me we had more sex in the past two days than the last six months.
Caleb hasn’t mentioned me attending Clarkson again since our canoe trip, but I know he’s probably thinking about it.
I am, too.
I’m completely conflicted about what I really want.
He told me I’m his home last night.
Home can be a lot of things, I’m learning.
Landry is home.
Gramps is home.
But Caleb is my home now, too.
And I can’t have all three at once besides these small snippets of time when Caleb comes back.
This trip is longer than we’ve spent together in nearly a year, and he’s leaving in two days for a baseball camp back at Clarkson before senior year starts.
Icouldgo with him, but I’m not sure if I can.
If I should.
I don’t know who a Lennon Matthews, who doesn’t live in Landry, Kentucky, is. I’ve never been her.
Throughout the loss and upheaval I’ve experienced, my home address always stayed the same.
I spent high school knowing I wouldn’t be able to leave for college. I made my peace with missing out on that experience years ago. Part of me was relieved, honestly. I’m comfortable taking care of Gramps and the horses. They need me. Rely on me.
Caleb doesn’t. He already has far more than I could ever offer him.
I stare out the window at the countryside flashing past, dreading the upcoming conversation I need to have with him. I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to say, but I have to tell Caleb I got into Clarkson.
Purposefully keeping it from him isn’t fair. I don’t need to tell him to know how he’s going to react, though. He’ll say he understands why I’m not going, and that we’ll make it work.
There’s no other option to change our current situation besides me transferring. I know hardly anything about baseball, but I know Caleb is good. Really good. I know he will be able to play professionally if he wants to. Clarkson is a three-hour drive, but it’s the closest school to Landry with a decent baseball program. I can take journalism classes anywhere. What I can’t do is take care of the farm and look after Gramps.
I’m disappointed when the green Landry sign flashes by, meaning we’re back in the town limits. Not only because I’m happy leaning against Caleb in the close confines of the backseat, but because I’m dreading the coming conversation.
We drop off Luke first, Jake next, then head toward Matthews Farm. There’s more room to spread out now, but I remain pressed against Caleb.
I stare out at the lush green fields as Colt drives up the familiar pothole-ridden lane that leads to the farmhouse, studying the trees that need to be pruned and the sagging fence rails that need to be replaced.
Sometimes—a lot of the time—it feels like I’m failing on all fronts.
I’m an absentee girlfriend.
An underachieving granddaughter.
An abysmal farmer.
