“Why did you shut him out?”
“Because…” she says. “He…I…” She takes a breath and looks out the window. “It was too hard. The pain. It was just a text message,” she says meekly, sadly.
I look back at Maggie with a lifted brow.
“A text message?” Maggie asks. “Did you break up with him through a text?”
“I was driving. I…” She stares out the window as if what she’s saying is playing in front of her eyes. “He sent me a text telling me he missed me, and I looked down. I killed them.” Her voice cracks, and I see the shake in her shoulders, realizing she’s crying.
“Cynthia.” I put my hand on her leg.
“I killed them,” she repeats. “I killed them.” She brings her hands to her face. Her whole body shudders as she repeats those awful words. I get out of the car, and I hear Maggie do the same. I open Cynthia’s door when I make it around.
“It’s okay,” I tell her as I pull her to me. She gets out and clings to me.
“They’re dead because of me,” she cries. “My whole life.”
I rock her in my arms and look at Maggie with concern on my face. My best friend’s brows draw together, matching mine, I’m sure. This poor child. What has she been through?
“Come on,” I tell Cynthia. “Let’s go sit over here.” I move us toward the store, and we bend down and take a seat under the store awning. Maggie unzips her fanny pack and pulls out some tissue.
“Here,” she says. “Dry those tears and explain to me this nonsense about you killing someone.”
Cynthia sniffs, and her glossy eyes look ahead. Mascara runs down her baby-faced cheeks, and she pulls her dress down over her knees as she hugs them.
“It was the best and worst time of my life,” she says. “How can you feel two different emotions when thinking back on a memory?”
I think about Travis and how often I’ve thought about our time together when we were older with both a smile on my lips and painful tears in my eyes.
“I was driving, and my phone dinged. I looked down,” Cynthia says. “The boy I loved sent me a text and I looked down for one second, and in that one second my whole life changed. The sound of metal and glass. I’ll never be able to get it out of my mind.” She rubs her fingers over the scar on her neck, and everything falls into place. My eyes widen and shoot to Maggie’s. That scar, the reason she and Lit broke up, her parents and why she shuts out emotions when talking about them. They were in a car accident and this girl blames herself, and I think somewhere deep down, she blames him, too.
“Okay, it is that bad,” Maggie says to me.
“Cynthia, you know it wasn’t your fault or his. It was an accident,” I tell her.
“An accident,” Cynthia repeats. “An accident is something that happens by mistake. Me looking down was not a mistake. I did that. I chose to look down.”
I sigh and realize she has set this in her mind for so long she believes it.
“Sometimes things happen, and we don’t understand it. You can get mad, cry, scream to the top of your lungs even, but it doesn’t change the fact it happened. I’ve spent nearly the last eleven years doing that exact thing, and then you came into my life.”
She looks over at me with tear-filled eyes.
“Be a pelican, Cynthia.” I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “Don’t let the things you can’t control, control you. Don’t stop living like I did.”
Cynthia looks down at the old gravel parking lot. “I don’t know how to do that,” she says.
––––
After we leave Wayside, we drive on through the city of Gray, Georgia. It’s a quaint town with small shops and a railroad track running through it. The timeworn train station is still there, but it’s now a feed and seed store. I turn right onto Gray Highway, and we make our way to Clinton, passing by the enormous reddish pink courthouse that has been standing since the early 1900s.
Gray is a stretch of highway with a few fast-food restaurants scattered on both sides and two grocery stores. Enough convenience stores for people to choose their go-to items and a Fred’s. At one time, they thought they were going to get a Walmart, but that never took off.
I put my blinker on and turn right past the Old Clinton gas station onto Old Clinton Road. I point toward the small piece of land up on the hill that mine and Mama’s trailer used to sit on. There’s a beautiful home built there now, no sign that our trailer was ever there. I park in the small park area, and we all get out, Archie finding a spot to pee immediately.
Cynthia wanted to stop talking about her past earlier, so we got back in the car and made our way here. She mindlessly looks around at the place, which isn’t much to look at really. Just a bunch of old homes built back before the Civil War and a few fields spread out. She walks up to the history marker and squints her eyes as she tries to read the history of Clinton, and Maggie takes a seat at the picnic table. She inhales a deep breath and unzips her fanny pack while I walk to the edge of the road. My eyes roam down the street at the unincorporated community I spent a few of my teenage years in. It’s insignificant to most, but the memories bring a tear to my eye as a feeling of sweet nostalgia passes over me.
There’s an age-old, burned red barn a little ways down the road and houses from the 1800s with white picket fences that still stand. I smell a familiar scent and look back at Maggie seeing she’s lit up a joint. I shake my head at that crazy woman, and my mind wonders.
I think back on longish brown hair, that crooked smile, and the way my heart pounded when he looked at me. The first time I met him I was in nothing but baby doll pajamas, so young with my whole life ahead of me. If I’d known then what I know now…. Well, I’m not sure how my life would be. Maybe I could have gotten him help sooner before it went too far. Maybe I’d never have gotten back together with him. Maybe I’d be standing in this same exact spot thinking these same exact things. I’ve loved him nearly my whole life, and everything has changed but that. Time changes a lot. It makes the green leaves turn yellow, the warm air turn colder. It makes laugh lines deepen and wrinkles appear where smooth skin once was, but sometimes not even time can change the feelings of the heart.
____
I gaze ahead at the long stretch of road before me. It’s late in the evening now, and after our tour of Clinton, we four have driven on to Macon, grabbed some snacks, and jumped on the interstate south bound. Maggie drives, and Cynthia sits in the back seat with her newish baby blue vintage looking typewriter. The sound of the keys echoes through the car as she types away. The one her Aunt Marty bought her stopped working, so she got a travel-friendly lighter one. Maggie yawns, Archie sleeps on her lap, and I look out the window as The Rolling Stones croon sweet lyrics about a woman named Angie, and it takes me back to sitting in a car with tears running down my face.
Early October 1973
We sit in my car with the sun beaming through the windows, shining on his brown hair and showing me strands of natural golden highlights.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say to him as I rest my head back against the seat. They didn’t want us to drive alone, afraid we may take off, but Travis put his foot down. He told them if we were going to run away, we would have never come to Indiana, and so Beverly gave in. I’m glad because I wanted alone time with him before he left me. I bring my thumbnail to my lips and chew anxiously.
“You’ll be back in Florida before we know it.” He reaches over and takes my hand away from my mouth, linking our fingers together and rubbing his thumb across the skin on my thumb. “And I’ll be working, and we’ll be saving up for our own place. Your mama is going to let us be together now. There’s nothing to be sad about.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say, turning my attention to the front windshield. A slow, small smile spreads across my lips when I see snow flurries begin to fall.
“It’s snowing,” he says. I look over at him as he peers out the window, and I move closer, hooking my arm with his, resting my head on his s
houlder, breathing in his scent—Marlboro Lights and cologne mixed. I feel him kiss the top of my head, and I move back so his face is closer to mine. He kisses me, taking my breath away. I hold onto him because I have an uneasy feeling about all of this.
Once the bus drives up, I unwillingly let go and watch him get out of the car into the bitter cold. He turns back to me, showing me his dimples and that beautiful crooked smile. I crack the window, feeling the icy wind hit my face.
“I love you,” I say.
“I know,” he replies with a wink. I inhale a deep breath and watch him step onto the bus. I don’t leave until it is out of sight, and then I drive back to Beverly’s house.
The snow is coming down thicker now, and once I reach her house, I get out and lean back against the car. Looking up to the sky, I shove my hands into my coat pockets. Pieces of white icy flakes fall into my eyelashes and I close my eyes, imagining his handsome face and telling myself it is all going to be okay.
____
We pull up to a hotel around dinnertime, and after we check in, we scan the area for some quick, simple supper. Spotting a diner a little ways from our hotel, we leave Archie with the windows cracked and head inside. The evening sun sinks in the sky, and once our stomachs are full, we go back to the hotel room. There, Cynthia pulls out her notebook and pen, ready for more of my story.
“Once Travis left, I was so desperate to get back to Florida, I could hardly stand it,” I tell them as Cynthia sits cross-legged on the sofa bed and Maggie lies on the bed beside mine with Archie curled up near her. “The car ride was long, and the whole way I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing him again.” I look down at the comforter at the end of the bed and think back on when we pulled up to our house on the hill. With a deep sigh, I tell the second half of our story.
Chapter Sixteen
October 1973
I jump out of my car, not even looking back at Beverly, who’s pulled up behind me in her own vehicle. I still think it was dumb she followed me here. I mean, this is where Travis is. Why wouldn’t I come back?
Running up the steps, I smile when I hear the windows begin to rattle from the train coming down the tracks. I’ve missed this place, and now that we can be together, it’s like heaven on earth. Opening the door, I’m hit in the face with the sight of the living room. My eyes scan over the boxes stacked up in the middle of the floor and the now blank walls that once had photos on them. I take a step into the room, my feet echoing throughout the almost empty house.
“Mama,” I call out cautiously. I keep walking, making my way down the hall and seeing that the bedrooms are also empty. My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach as realization dawns on me. I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true. I shut my eyes when I hear her voice coming from the living room.
“Charlotte,” she says. I clinch my fists as I walk out of my vacant bedroom and into the hall, seeing her standing there by the door, alone. She smiles at the sight of me, but her happiness quickly fades when she sees the tears running down my face. Anger boils inside of me as my hands start to shake and my pulse quickens furiously against my neck. At this moment, I hate her more than I’ve ever hated anyone.
“Charlotte, this is what needs to be—”
“I hate you!” I yell acidly, cutting her off.
She flinches, and her mouth slams shut. The wrinkles beside her eyes deepen as she narrows them, and I see the pain I’ve caused set in her expression.
“Be careful with your words. They can be forgiven, but they can never be forgotten.” Her chest expands as she takes in a firm breath before straightening her shoulders. “Now dry those tears. We are leaving in the morning to head back to Georgia. We’ll stay at your Aunt Evelyn’s house tonight.”
“You packed up all of our things and are making us move back to Georgia because of him?” I ask bitterly.
“Charlotte, you ran away with the boy.” Frustration lines her tone.
“Because you won’t let us be together!” I yell, clearly shocking her. “You can’t control my life forever, Mama. I love him!”
“You’re too young to—”
“Oh, too young!” I interrupt her and look up at the ceiling in defeat. “I’m so sick of hearing those words. You know what I think?” I say, looking back at her. “I think you’re scared. You’re so scared that I’m going to move away with him and never come back.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Don’t you know I can love you both? Don’t you know that by keeping me away from him it only makes me want him more?”
I walk toward her and head for the door.
“Where are you going?”
I look over before I pass her. “I’m going to find him,” I say impertinently.
She grabs ahold of my arm. “Don’t be out too late.” I look at her with a fury I’ve never felt before, and without responding, I yank my arm away from her hold and walk out the door, wishing we had turned left.
____
We sit in the back of my car with the music playing low on the radio. I cry as he holds me, telling me over and over that it’s going to be okay. We will find a way, but I’m not sure anymore.
“We’ll be so far apart, Travis.”
“I’ll move up there, baby. If you can’t be here, then I’ll move there.”
I look up at him. “You will?” I ask.
“Of course, I will. I love you. I’ll do anything for you.” My heart feels like a heavy weight in my chest, and the pain of not being able to see him every day slices me in two. Why can’t they leave us alone? He leans down and kisses my tear-stained lips, and I savor every touch after and every feeling he gives me because I know it’ll be a while before we see each other again.
____
“Holy shit, your mom really did that?” Cynthia asks with a look of shock on her pretty face.
“She did,” I say sadly. “There was never a time I was madder at her than I was at that moment.”
“What happened next?” Cynthia asks, shifting on her bed.
“Yes,” Maggie says. “Tell us more.”
____
October 1973
A week passes by without seeing Travis. I get a job at the Bantam Chef up the road from our house, which serves hamburgers and hot dogs, so I spend my time there. To say I’m miserable without him would be an understatement. I’m downright depressed, and Mama notices it. How could she not?
The day that boy pulls up in his GTO she doesn’t even tell him to leave, although she doesn’t let him in either. I, on the other hand, run out of that house like a bat out of hell.
In worn jeans and a button-up jean shirt, he looks like perfection to me. I jump into his arms and kiss his lips, not even caring if Mama is watching. It’s only been a week, and I miss his lips like the moon misses the night.
“Come on,” he says to me. “Let’s go.”
“Mama, I need to grab something from the store. Travis is going to take me,” I call back to the house.
She walks out with a dishtowel in her hands, looking skeptical. “Hurry back.”
I jump into his car and let him drive us somewhere so we can be alone. We climb in the back seat and rip each other’s clothes off, frantically dying to be closer, desperately needing to feel each other. Young love is like a raging fire that can’t be tamed. It’s addictive and borderline obsessive. Satisfying in every way, yet never getting enough. I’m the flames, and he’s the fuel keeping me burning. We are perfect.
____
“Mama, just let him come in. It’s freezing out there,” I beg her.
“That boy is not staying in my house. He can go back to Florida if he’s cold.” She walks into the living room, and before she takes her seat, she calls out, “There are some clean blankets in the closet.”
She’s unrelenting about Travis coming in so late at night. I open my window, and he climbs inside. We quietly get tangled up in each other’s arms and stay like that until the sun starts coming up. Sadly, he later gets a job workin
g nights, so the sneaking in through the window comes to an end quickly, but we figure out other ways to be together.
About a week later, the weather has turned painfully cold, and finally Mama says, “Let him in. He’ll die of pneumonia out there.”
She sits Travis down at the kitchen table with a piece of paper.
“These are the rules,” she tells him. “You break any of them, you’re out. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Travis says. I hold my bottom lip between my teeth, peering over her shoulder at the paper she has on the table.
Rules:
Never go into Charlotte’s room.
You two will not be allowed in the house alone.
Never go into the bathroom if Charlotte is in there.
You will sleep in the back spare room.
You will pay rent.
And that’s that. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have Travis Cole living in my house! He has his own entrance and bathroom in the spare bedroom, so it’s nice for him to have some space. He gets a job right away, so he comes home after work and spends time with me until I have to go to work, then he sleeps until I come home. I sneak into his dark room with him sleeping and sit cross-legged with my knees under the bed, so I’m as close to him without being in the bed and Mama freaking out.
“Travis,” I say softly. He opens his eyes and always, always shows me that crooked smile.
“Hey,” he says. I lean up and kiss him, and we talk until he has to get up and get dressed for work. Life is good. Well, until it isn’t…
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