Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,45
to Shine Prison, Ms. Wake. And I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Warden Dale signs off. Last meals and inventorying knives. This is going to be an interesting day. I beep my cell phone off and stand up. I get dressed, throw my wet hair up into a ponytail, and head to a hard-core German butcher I know is open in New Braunfels. Even on the Fourth of July that German flag flies high. I’ll grab some chicken to fry up tonight, as well as a brisket for tomorrow’s supper. I’ll have to smoke it all night, and even with the time I’ve got, it can always go longer. This’ll have to do. I swipe my keys off the table by the door and head out. I’m already listing appetizers and desserts in my head as I pull out of Merry Carole’s driveway and past all the meandering citizens of North Star, the live music still floating through town.
11
Gentleman Jack Bourbon
“Why would you make a decision like that without even talking with me first?” Merry Carole asks as I appear in the kitchen fully clothed and exhausted after a night of checking on my twelve-pound brisket. After a whole night of smoking, I packaged it up and the brisket and I are finally ready to head over to Shine this morning.
“I did talk with you about it,” I say, pouring coffee into a mug. I open up the refrigerator to get some creamer.
“You didn’t say you were going to take it,” Merry Carole says.
“I know, but I did,” I say, pouring the creamer into the mug.
“I can see that.”
“Don’t you like that I’m staying?” I ask, checking the time: 9:00 AM. I have to get going.
“I do,” Merry Carole says, cinching her robe tightly around her body.
“Then let’s focus on that,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing my canvas bag that’s filled with the foil-wrapped brisket and my list of ingredients for the day’s menu. I head for the front door.
“This isn’t over,” Merry Carole says, calling out to me.
“I know,” I say, closing the door behind me.
I walk quickly to my car, before the early morning humidity wreaks havoc on my hair. I open the hatch, lovingly set the brisket inside, and close it up. The brisket smells delicious. I have a shopping list for today that I’ll have to take care of once I check in. I hop into my car and drive through the town’s center. I pass the alley where I was with Everett just yesterday. There’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t wait for him anymore. I’ve waited twenty years and nothing’s changed. I did the right thing. I know I did. Now all I have to do is convince myself that this ache will go away in time. That I’ll feel like myself again. That this newfound lightness won’t begin to feel terrifying. I’m not alone—I have Merry Carole and Cal, just like always. The key is to take the little nugget I learned at the very end in New York. Just as finding adventure in a new city can’t be about not being in North Star, finding love with a new man can’t be about not being with Everett. Remember, I want to be happy. On my terms. I speed onto the highway and turn the radio up full blast.
I was told to park in Lot D. I scan the expanse around the prison and wonder how I thought I could just keep parking in the visitors’ lot. I find Lot D, park, grab my knife case, my shopping list, and the brisket. I walk the interminable distance to the prison with a side of beef worthy of the opening credits of The Flintstones. The golden hills, silvery barbed wire, and the big sky are broken up only by the depressing puce color of the prison’s outer walls.
I walk into the front office and find myself, once again, following Juanita and her sensible, squeaky shoes back down the Hall of Echoes. We settle into the anteroom where I sign contracts, waivers, and far too much paperwork. I’m sure I signed something where I wouldn’t sue if I was injured in the line of duty. I don’t think about any of it. I just read and sign. Juanita inventories my knives, I get my name badge and a key card. Then Juanita walks me through the various protocols and safety measures.