I didn’t dare go back in and ask for that bus ticket.
It’d be like admitting defeat. And I wasn’t a fucking quitter.
Far from it, actually.
With no other recourse, I started to walk.
The duffel bag I had in my arms was heavier than hell.
It held fifteen books, two pairs of clothes and photos.
My whole entire life was packed into that one single bag.
As I got to the main road, I turned left, noting the buildings off in the distance.
That would be the way to go then. The other way only had trees.
About a mile and a half into my walk, I lost my books, dumping them into the first trashcan I came to right at the edge of town.
Even though it killed me to do it, I walked away and didn’t look back.
The first restaurant that I came to was a Whataburger, and I immediately turned into the parking lot and walked inside and straight up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” The woman behind the register asked.
I nodded, and bit my lip as I looked over the menu boards above her head.
“Umm, I want a number one with cheese and ketchup only, please. Large fries and a Coke,” I said softly.
The woman blinked, looking me up and down, and I just knew she was thinking ‘how are you going to fit all of that into your tiny body?’
Luckily, she didn’t say it aloud. Instead, she handed me a number on a little orange triangle.
“Have a seat, we’ll bring it out to you shortly,” she said, smiling.
I wondered if she knew I was coming directly from the prison?
Did the duffle bag give me away?
It was fairly simple. Just a black canvas bag with a black zipper.
I could be anyone, I decided.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
She nodded and handed me a cup that was the size of my head.
I blinked, taking the cup.
Holy shit! The cup was freakin’ massive.
Shrugging my shoulders, I walked over to the drink fountain and stared at it.
“It’s new,” a little girl, probably about twelve, said.
She was wearing pink capri pants and a pink flowered shirt.
I watched her as she filled her cup up with ice, then started punching buttons on the screen.
“You can put whatever you want into it. It’s pretty stinkin’ cool, if you ask me,” she chattered as she filled her drink up with at least seven different flavored drinks.
A suicide.
I hadn’t had one of those in years.
So what did I do?
I followed suit, filling up my massive head-sized cup with grape flavored soda, Dr. Pepper, and a cherry vanilla Coca-Cola.
“That’s gross,” I heard said from behind me.
At first I didn’t comprehend what I was hearing, but it didn’t take long for my brain to come back on line.
“Bristol,” I said breathlessly. “You came.”
She smiled. “I did. I was late, I’m so sorry. I meant to get there earlier, but my kids had a meltdown this morning before I left, and it made me late. I got to the parking lot I was supposed to be picking you up in, and the guard at the gate pointed in this direction to where she saw you walk. It’s only understandable that you’d want something to eat.”
A tear slipped from my eye as I placed my drink and bag on the closest table, and then I walked right into my best friend’s arms for the first time in eight years.
She smelled like strawberries.
She always had.
She loved strawberries.
And I’d forgotten.
Bristol had visited with me hundreds of times in the last eight years, but I’d never hugged her.
We weren’t allowed to touch.
For the visitor’s safety, I sneered.
“I’m so glad you’re out, honey,” Bristol whispered roughly, her throat clogging with tears as she did.
I nodded. “Not that I’m not happy that you’re here,” I said, pulling away from her when my food arrived. “But what are you doing here? I thought Isaac was picking me up. At least that’s what his last letter said.”
Bristol looked down at her hands.
“Isaac,” she hesitated. “Isaac has a lot of stuff to explain.”
I blinked.
“What do you mean?” I asked as we both took our seats. “Is he having trouble at work again?”
Isaac worked with his father. His father owned an oil business that allowed him the free reign to be the big boss, living large on the money his men made for him.
His son was also privileged that way as well.
Not that Isaac saw it that way. He didn’t like that his daddy was the boss of him. He wanted to be his own boss.
The problem was that his father dominated the market in our small community.
Anybody who was anybody knew who Doral Roans was.
Nobody would cross Doral for Isaac. He wasn’t worth it.
Something I’d been trying to tell Isaac for years. No one was going to leave Doral and start doing business with him just because he’s a nice guy. Doral had been the dominant supplier in this market for years. Not to mention that he was not a nice man, and he was definitely not a man you’d stop doing business with to do it with his son instead.