by Colbie Kay
In my head, I hear the voice of my Pawpaw, "I'll take care of her now."
I lean against the moving truck, full of our belongings and ready to go. I’m just waiting and wishing Poppy would run out of her front door to tell me goodbye. I want one last hug, one last look, to hear her voice one last time. I understand she’s mad at me and I hurt her, but I don’t want this to be it. Doesn’t she want to see me too?
“Julien, it’s time to go.” Mom walks over and places her hand on my shoulder.
“Just a minute.” I meander over to Poppy’s bedroom window. She’s holding the curtain to the side, peeking out with her gaze fixated on the truck and tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. “Poppy.” Grimacing, I squeeze my eyes closed as my own tears escape. I lay my hand against her window and splay my fingers, waiting for her to reciprocate. Instead, she stares at my hand for a moment before closing the curtain. Stepping back around to the front, I wait for her to come out. My heart pounds in anxiousness, and I’m trying to be patient, but she never comes.
“Julien, we have to go,” My dad states in a sterner tone than my mom used. I can’t wait any longer.
Opening the door of my mom’s car, I look out the back window as we pull away and drive down the road. I keep watching until I can’t see her house any longer.
“You’ll make new friends,” Mom proclaims absently.
She doesn’t get it. It’s not about leaving my old friends or making new ones. It’s leaving Poppy. I don’t want to leave her! “I don’t want new friends.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You just didn’t want me having anything to do with Poppy, that’s why you’re taking me away.” I angrily swipe away a tear.
“You’re right, we didn’t, but as usual, you didn’t listen, did you?” Her eyes cut to mine in the rearview mirror for a moment before gazing at the road again. “Listen, I know you care about Poppy, but she isn’t someone you should hang around. She’s a bad influence.”
“A bad influence?” I chuckle, snorting at the stupidity of my mother’s words. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know she’s about to have a baby, and she’s not even in high school yet. Her parents should have kept a better eye on her than they did.”
My parents have the same ignorant thoughts as everyone else in Wishing. No one has ever taken the time to ask Poppy her side of the story except for me. I know what happened to her last summer, but that’s not for me to tell. However, I will defend her with my last breath. “Mom, please, just stop. You don’t know anything about Poppy or her situation, so don’t talk about her. You can take me away all you want, but one day, I’ll make it back to her, and when I do, I’m marrying her.”
“Julien—”
I cut her off by turning up the radio. I don’t want to hear any more of what she has to say. It’s going to be a long trip to California.
AS THE LIGHT turns into darkness, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months…I have given up hope that Poppy is going to speak to me. At one point, I called multiple times a day. After a time, I changed to once a day, then once a week, once a month, and now, I’ve stopped altogether.
I’m defeated and decide to give up. There’s always an excuse for why she can’t talk, and I even called on the day I knew she was supposed to have the baby. I tried phoning the hospital but got no information from them.
I finished my eighth-grade year here in California, and summer is coming to an end. I’ll be starting high school soon. I always pictured me and Poppy walking into our freshman year hand in hand together, but my parents ruined that.
Speaking of parents, they promised when we moved things would be better between them, but that’s a lie. It’s not better, in fact, I think it’s worse than it’s ever been. I no longer have my safe place where I can escape, therefore, all I can do is lie here and listen to the yelling. They fight over everything from my dad being gone all the time for work to mom not being the perfect housewife he expects and everything in between.
“You’re a liar!” Mom screams.
“Lying about what?”
“I called your office. They said you left hours ago. Where have you been?”
“I went for a few drinks.”
I shake my head. She’s not wrong, he’s lying.
“A few drinks? Why do you smell like a bottle of cheap perfume? Tell me the truth, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Fine, you want the truth? I’ve been seeing someone.”
Mom’s voice lowers to an unusual level. “Seeing someone? Your assistant?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” She squeals. All of a sudden, feet are pounding toward my door, there’s a knock, and it opens. "Julien, pack a suitcase," Mom orders me in a furious tone, her voice shaking as tears spill over.
I see the sadness in her eyes, but that’s not the only thing I see in her angry eyes. I see frustration, defeat, tiredness. My mom is like an open book she can’t hide, but out of everything I see while looking at her, I don’t see happiness. I haven’t seen happiness in a long time, way before we ever moved to California. She should have left him a long time ago. Maybe she would have if I would have told her I saw him in his office with his assistant one day after school.
My dad should have never cheated, but putting me in the position of holding such a secret, how could I have told her? I couldn’t be the one responsible for crushing her like that, and I feel guilty for hiding it, for helping him. Truly, I hate him for what he’s done to her. One thing I know is, I’ll never be like my father.
I sit up in my bed. "Where are we going?" I hope we go back to Kansas.
"We'll figure that out as we go." She shuts my door, and my dad’s voice follows her.
“Please don’t do this. I’m sorry. We can work it out. We can go to counseling.” His pleas are desperate, but they fall on the deaf ears of his scorned wife.
“Go to counseling with that whore!” Mom screams at him.
It doesn’t take long for either of us to be packed and ready to go.
“Julien, I love you. I’m sorry,” My dad speaks through the rolled-up window.
I have nothing to say. He could have ended it with Mom before he cheated. I’ve lost all respect for him. All I can hope now is she takes us back to Wishing.
T wo weeks ago, I had hoped Mom would take us back to Kansas, but she didn’t. Here I am at my third school in less than six months because my mother runs from her problems. Things were bad in Kansas ergo she was ready to run to California, things got worse, so we ran to Nashville, Tennessee. And here I am sauntering into another new school where I know no one.
Stepping through the doors ready to start ninth grade again, I feel even worse than in California. I’m nervous and anxious. My palms are sweaty as I hold onto my schedule. I look left, right, and up not knowing which direction to go. I search the halls too afraid to ask someone for help until I finally find the office. This school is huge. The secretary gives me quick instructions on where all my classes are, but by the time my first class is almost over, I’ve already forgotten where my next one is.
“You new?” Someone comes up beside me.
Darting my eyes to the boy with shaggy brown hair and jeans two sizes too big beside me, I nod. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
He laughs and flips his hair out of his eyes. “The only students who look at their schedules like you are doing are new and have been here less than two days,” He states the obvious.
“Right.” I spin the paper around in my hand.
“I’m Marley by the way. What’s your next class?”
“Julien and…” I peer down at my schedule. “English I with Mrs. Meyers.”
“Mine too. Follow me.”
Marley shows me around the first half of the day, and we’re getting ready for lunch. “Come meet my friends. You can hang with us.” I move outside with him to a tree where a group of students is sitting. “Everybody, this is Julien. He’s gonna hang with us.”
“Hey, Julie
n,” The group says, and they all have bloodshot eyes and bright smiles.
“Hey,” I reply and wave my hand around before sitting next to a girl with different colored dreadlocks.
She takes a drag off something that appears to be a rolled-up cigarette. She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I’m Hailey.” She holds the cigarette out for me to take. “Wanna hit?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t smoke.”
She laughs. “It’s weed. It’ll help you relax.”
Staring at the offering for a moment, I finally decide what the hell. I take it from her and put it to my lips. Inhaling, the back of my throat starts to burn, and I begin choking.
“Easy.” She laughs again, patting my back as if that will keep me from dying.
Over lunch, I learn that Marley and his friends are obsessed with skateboarding, which I know nothing about, and they are all potheads. I have nothing in common with them, but they’ve taken me in, and I won’t complain because I need to fit in somewhere. It all makes me miss Poppy even more.
WE’VE BEEN in Nashville for almost a year now, and while I’ve got my group of friends, Mom is lonely. Of course, it doesn’t help that since we’ve been here, she has been in and out of various jobs. She never had to work when she was married to Dad, but their divorce was finalized, and the money she’s getting for child support is barely making ends meet. Her latest employment to help bring in money is a waitressing job at a small twenty-four-hour diner. She works mostly at night, so I barely see her, and it gives me more time alone than a teenager should have. Hell, I won’t complain. Most of the time, I get to do what I want when I want unless it’s one of her nights off.
I’m sitting on the couch doing nothing when I hear a knock at the door. Opening it, I spot Hailey and smile. “What are you doing here?”
She jumps into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as her lips crash against mine. Shutting the door, I stagger over to the couch and sit down with her straddling my lap.
“I had to come and see you before you leave tomorrow.” Her fingers play with the back of my sandy-colored hair.
My palms run along her thighs. “I’m glad you did. I’m going to miss you, but I’ll see you when the summer is over.” That’s the agreement my parents have made. During the school year, I stay with Mom in Nashville, but once I’m free from classes, I fly out to California and am required to stay the whole summer with my dad and his new wife. Yep, the assistant.
“I’m going to miss you too. Do you love me, Julien?” Her big hazel eyes gaze down at me.
“You know I do.” Leaning up, I press my lips to the crook of her neck.
“I love you too. I don’t want you to forget about me.” She bites her bottom lip.
Reaching up with my thumb, I pull it from her teeth and press my lips against hers. My hand moves to the back of her neck and squeezes it gently. “Hey, I could never forget about you.”
“Let’s go to your room.” She stands and holds her hand out to me.
I take it, furrowing my brows in bewilderment. “Hailey?” I question.
She gazes down at me through her thick black lashes. “I want you to show me that you love me.”
My pulse races and my heart thunders in my chest. I’m losing my virginity, and it’s not Poppy.
I’m not lying about loving Hailey, I do love her, but she’s not the girl I was always meant to be with. She’s not Poppy Montgomery. Shaking my head to force the stupid thoughts away…
I shouldn’t still be thinking about Poppy. We haven’t spoken since the night before I moved to California, and she’s probably moved on.
“Hey? You here with me?” Hailey grins from inside my bedroom.
“I’m here.” I close my bedroom door with a small push.
Hailey moved away during the summer to go to college, and I was still stuck here in Nashville for my senior year of high school. I thought we would stay together, but she called out of the blue one night and said she didn’t want to be tied down, spouting some bullshit about this is the time of our lives, and we should be experiencing everything we could.
So, I did just that. I started experimenting with any girl who would drop her panties, and my senior year has been a blur due to all of the parties, but I’m having the time of my life now that I’m eighteen and about to graduate. I guess Hailey knew what she was talking about after all.
Another night, another party.
Stumbling into the house, I find my mom sitting at the kitchen table. Shit! I must have forgotten tonight was her night off. But I’m certain she went to work before I left. "Mom, I thought you were working? Why are you home?” I stagger toward the fridge to get a drink, but her angry tone stops me.
"Sit down," She demands harshly. I'm not sure I've ever heard her that furious. “Are you drunk?”
Frowning, I tilt my head to the side. "What's wrong?" My words come out slurred.
She stands and marches over to a drawer, pulling out my stash of weed in a Ziploc bag. "What’s this?"
I plop down in a chair. "It's nothing."
Her fist slams down on the table as her irate eyes bore into mine. Her face is so close to mine, I’m seeing double of her which means, I have four very displeased eyes on me. "Don't you dare lie to me. You're doing drugs?"
I rest my elbow on the table and prop my head on my palm. "Mom—"
"No!" She puts her hand up and waves it back and forth. "Get rid of it! As long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules.” She grabs the bag and shakes it in front of me. “How could you bring this into our home?"
I try to explain, "It's just weed, Mom."
"It's not just anything! Get rid of it!" She’s choosing not to listen while all I want to do is go to my bed and pass the fuck out.
I snort. "I'm not getting rid of it! Do you know how much that costs?"
She stares at me flabbergasted with big eyes and her mouth hanging open. "And how did you pay for it? You don't have a job." She shouts, her voice a higher pitch and almost a squeal. The sound hurts my ears.
I shrug my shoulders. "I help out a few friends."
Her hands slam down on the counter. "So, you're not only doing the drugs, you're selling them?"
"It's not as bad as it sounds." I attempt to make light of the situation because I really don’t think it is. It’s harmless pot.
She stomps over to me, her finger and thumb grab my chin, and she makes my eyes meet hers. "Make your choice, Julien. You're eighteen. Live here or get out, but you will not bring drugs into my home. I don’t care how innocent you think this is."
My eyes narrow, and I snarl in disbelief, "You would kick me out? Fine." Standing, I storm to my room and pack a bag with my clothes. When I get outside, I begin to walk and keep walking for a few miles until I get to Marley’s house.
OVER THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, I travel from house to house, sleeping on couches until I wear out my welcome, and then I move on to the next place. I’m selling enough weed to get me by, but it’s not enough. I need more so I can try to get my own place, and now that I dropped out of school, no one is going to hire me without a diploma. Poppy would be real proud of me right now. I almost laugh at the thought. It’s been years, and she’s still in my head. The only time I get relief from the pain is when my head is clouded with Mary Jane.
“Where are we going?” I ask Marley as he’s driving down the streets of Nashville while we smoke.
He replies, “We’re going to make this drop,” then passes me the pipe.
All of a sudden, red and blue lights flash behind us. “Shit!” I yell.
“Stay calm,” Marley instructs, but who can stay calm? The car is filled with weed smoke, we have other drugs in the car, and I’m holding the pipe. I toss it under the seat before the officer comes to the driver’s side window.
We are both immediately told to exit the vehicle while the officer calls for backup. Once more cops arrive on the scene, they begin searching Marley’s car. I’m thrown for a loop when he tell
s them everything is mine. Since the pipe is found under my seat, I am arrested for a slew of charges.
All this time, we’ve been friends, yet he pins it all on me. I guess we weren’t very good friends in his eyes.
I t’s been two years since I was released from jail after spending six months of my life locked in a cell for twenty-three hours a day. The day I was released, I stood outside the gates with nothing to my name except for the contents of the brown paper bag I held in my hand. I had nowhere to go, and no one willing to help me, not even my mother–her phone had been disconnected, and the house was abandoned. Once again, she ran because that’s what she’s good at. I have no idea where she is. My dad cut me off after I wound up in jail. And my so-called friends, none of them were willing to help since I mooched off of them before I landed in jail. I had no choice except to start walking and just kept moving. I wouldn’t give up.
For the last two years, I've been sleeping in shelters or on the streets. Somewhere along the way, I found an old guitar that was still usable. I tuned it myself and began practicing. Now, I stand on the streets of Nashville every day playing my guitar and singing covers of songs to make enough change to buy myself something to eat.
I begin Travis Tritt’s song Best of Intentions. It’s one of my favorites, and it’s a song I used to sing to Poppy to put her to sleep. Closing my eyes, I allow the music to take over. I picture lying next to her in her bed, my hand on her belly, and wishing I could stay there forever.
"Hey, you got a great voice."
I slowly open my eyes to see a man standing in front of me in a designer suit with a large happy grin on his face.
"Thanks." I glance at my cup sitting on the sidewalk. "All donations are appreciated."
He laughs. "I can do better than that. Name's Mitch Drover with Drover Management." He passes me a business card. "I could take you places, all you have to do is call me." I stare dumbfounded as the man strolls away. Is he for real? I look down at the business card before sticking it in my back pocket. Maybe later.