“I want to go alone,” I said immediately and desperately when I hung up and turned to face Sal. I knew I was being completely irrational, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
He stalked over to me, his eyes assessing my expression. “Babe,” he began.
“I want to go alone,” I pleaded. “Please, Sal. Nothing will happen there,” I demanded desperately. “It’s just a bunch of white trash druggies. You can help everyone else. Look for Ettie here. I’ll be back before you know it,” I rambled as he gripped my upper arms, peering down at me.
“Birdie, what the fuck?”
I shook my head in an attempt to clear the roar in my ears at the sheer terror of having him see where I’d grown up.
Cal and Cole made themselves scarce as tears pooled in my eyes. “Please, Sal, I’m begging you,” I whimpered, my voice hoarse.
“You’re killin’ me, baby. What is it?” he asked, pulling me into his chest, his chin resting on my head.
“I promised myself I’d never go back there,” I whispered as he held me tight. “And I will, in a heartbeat for Ettie. But the thought of you coming too, of you seeing how I grew up. I don’t know if I can…” I stammered.
He pulled back slightly, holding me at arm’s length to look down at me. “Part of why I love you is knowing what you came from, you get that?” he asked.
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Well, then we got no problems.” He shrugged as though it was as simple as a trip to the grocery store. “We’ll be in and out, baby. You might have lived there a long time, but it’s not who you are. It never was,” he decreed, stooping slightly to meet me at eye level.
I pressed my forehead to his and nodded.
“Right,” I muttered.
We rode all day toward the outskirts of Eugene. We left the sun and sand and headed into the forested canopy and perpetual rain of my hometown. It felt as though the cloudy, desolate sky was sucking me in, making it hard to breathe as we drew closer to my childhood home.
My memories were filled with days and days of rain. I would never forget what that was like. It was either be trapped in the trailer with my drugged out parents or head out into the muck. When I was younger, I would pretend it was an adventure to slosh through the mud the rains brought cascading through our trailer park. As I got older, I simply found other places to hide, like the public library, a coffee shop. I would go anywhere within walking distance where I could dry out for a few hours before regretfully having to make my way home.
It was probably why Nevada called to me so strongly when I’d left home. The sun shown brilliantly most of the year.
My ass was sore as hell, but in a way, it worked. because by the time we pulled into the trailer park, part of me was relieved to get off the bike for a bit.
It was exactly as I remembered; the decrepit trailers standing on top of torn up cement that, in many cases, had simply turned to mud. It was all shrouded by trees so thick in some places you couldn’t see the sky. I looked up at those trees as we rode deeper through the park.
They’d always scared me for some reason, especially at night when they cast shadows no matter how far you ventured. Their limbs seemed to bend and stretch too close for comfort, as though they were determined to be a part of you.
Broken down trucks sat alongside many of the lots, serving as storage or extra bedrooms. Or, in some cases, playrooms depending on the circumstances.
That was one saving grace of childhood. Imagination was a beautiful thing. I would play with the other kids around the park for hours around some rusted out pickup, pretending we ruled the world. Our little hearts were so full of hopes and dreams.
The Harley rumbled up to the all too familiar white trailer, now rusted on all sides and sitting slightly sideways. My heart had picked up as soon as we’d crossed the state line, more so when we entered the park and was now in overdrive as the engine cut in front of my childhood home. Sal reached back and grabbed my thigh in a reassuring squeeze I desperately needed.
I swung off the bike, unclasping my helmet, and stood regarding the place as the sun dipped low in the sky. The rusted door swung open with a groan, and my mother stood there with a scowl.
Just remember Ettie, I coached myself.
“Hey, Ma,” I greeted. “You remember Sal,” I gestured to my beautiful man who had now divested himself of his helmet and came to stand at my side.
She scowled deeper as a balding man with a huge gray beard peered out from behind her. He had beady eyes and an accusatory stare.
What a winner, but really, was I surprised?
“This is Stu,” she responded, simply gesturing with a thumb.
“Brought some Jack, some smokes if you want to sit for a few. Been a long drive,” Sal spoke up gruffly. I’d told him how much my mother loved brown liquor. First, he’d play nice guy, if that didn’t work, and quickly, then things would deteriorate until something gave.
He threw his leg easily over the picnic bench nearby as though he’d lived there his entire life and took a slug of whiskey. I took a deep breath, which I hoped didn’t sound too shaky and sat alongside him.