Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,7
What happens then?
“It’s not the end of the world, but you can definitely see it from there. You’ve seen worse,” Merry Carole says.
“I know.” I tuck my legs underneath me as my mind darts around its darker recesses. As Merry Carole muffles the phone and directs Fawn through Mrs. Beauchamp’s color, I hate that it’s always about enduring and surviving. Crawling through and out of some muck to get to the other side.
Yes, I’ll survive this. Merry Carole’s right. I’ve seen worse. Much worse. But just once I’d like to simply . . . have something. Just . . . be. Get a job somewhere where someone isn’t “taking a chance on me.” I’m now officially pouting. My hangdog expression reflects back at me in the window. I look absolutely pathetic.
“I’m going to throw something out there and I need you to just think about it. Will you do that for me?” Merry Carole asks.
“Sure.”
“As you know, the big Fourth of July festival is next weekend.”
“Sure,” I say. North Star’s summer season is bookended by two big events: the Fourth of July festival starts it out with a literal bang and the North Star Stallions opening football game finishes it.
“Well, they’re going to announce that Cal will be the quarterback for the North Star Stallions. We’ll get our sign for the front yard and he’s going to be presented with his varsity jersey in front of God and everybody. I know he’d love it if you could come back to see him.”
“Next weekend?”
“That’s right.”
I look up and am met, once again, with my own reflection in the window. I stare back at myself.
THIS IS YOU. THIS IS NOW.
I don’t know how else to cut it. I’m a shadow of who I once was. I hang my head. It’s not as if anyone is going to mourn my departure. I never bonded with anyone in the kitchen—turns out people didn’t really take to a bossy know-it-all who hammered them with cooking tips and tricks while they tried to dice that day’s onion allotment. If I did hit it off with someone, it was still well within the boundaries of “work friend.” Even walking out of the kitchen after work turned labored when there wasn’t something cooking oriented we could talk about. It became clear that, unlike the other people in the kitchen, all I had was cooking. No family in the city. No history I cared to share. No hobbies. As long as I’ve been away from North Star I’ve been a cipher. And while I treasured the anonymity and the clean slate, it never dawned on me that I’d erased everything about me: good and bad.
I can’t stomach quitting, never could. This will be temporary until I plan my next move. I’ll recharge my batteries and really plan where to go—not just make another lateral move. I am also thirty-one years old and no longer believe the world begins and ends with North Star, Texas. I should be able to return without falling victim to the perception that I’m something to be hunted with torches and pitchforks. I will go back on my terms. It will not have the same power over me this time. I am older now. Smarter, I’d hope. Stronger.
“I think I can do that. It’d just be for a few weeks. Until I find a new job.”
“Oh, he’ll love it!”
“I can’t wait to see him. I can’t imagine how big he’s gotten.”
“He’s not in diapers anymore, that’s for sure.”
“Okay, well, I’ll settle things here and be there in a couple of days.”
“Oh Queenie . . . this is just . . . I love that you’re coming on home.” Merry Carole muffles the phone and continues, “I KNOW! She’s coming home! Can you believe it!? Well, where else has she got to go, though, bless her heart? Hahahahahahahaha . . . Who are you telling?! Yeah, she’s coming back to see Cal get his jersey! I know! That’s what I said, Fawn, aren’t you hearing me over here! Queenie, honey?”
“Yes?”
“You be sure to call when you’re on your way.”
“I will.”
“I just couldn’t be happier. I’ll see you soon then! Don’t you just love saying that?”
“I’ll see you soon. Bye,” I say.
“Bye-bye now,” Merry Carole signs off.
I beep my cell phone off and let it fall onto the bench. My haunted gaze stares back at me.