“Thanks for the help,” Tucker says, and I wonder if he’s talking to Minka. He doesn’t seem like he’s paying attention to either of us.
“Why does he look like he’ll cry?” Minka asks.
“He misses his woman and kid.”
“Aww, that’s adorable.”
“We’re leaving,” I say, turning her away from them. “Don’t look back,” I tell Minka.
Being the woman I love, she, of course, looks back and waves at the three men.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I mutter, opening the door for her.
“Hey, I was just gonna say that about you.”
I give her a quick yet deep kiss. A little reminder about who she belongs to and how I won’t be replaced. Minka smiles once my lips leave hers.
“Your insecurity is hot. Let’s find a hotel.”
“We’re leaving Redneck Paradise and heading north.”
Now pouting, Minka crosses her arms and ignores me as I join her in the car. We pull out of the parking lot while the bikers walk inside for breakfast. Driving as fast as I can, I dodge anyone going the speed limit until we reach the highway and I can finally put White Horse in the rearview.
30
Minka
For Fuck’s Sake
The green house doesn’t look much different than when I ran off years ago. Wind chimes hang from the too-low screened porch. A cat sleeps on the old rocking chair Gilda got at a yard sale when I was in eighth grade. I remember how she conned the owner into basically giving it away. Like many men, he’d been a sucker for a woman’s tears.
“I think I might vomit,” I admit, standing stuck at the fence.
“I’ll hold your hair.”
Even wanting to smile, I don’t manage. “I could freak out. What then?”
“I’ll make a video, and we’ll laugh about it later. Now get going. That cat is watching us, and it doesn’t look friendly.”
“I don’t know that cat.”
“It’s been a long time since you lived here.”
Leaning back against him, I whisper, “Doesn’t feel so long ago.”
“Because you’re half stuck in the past. Time to cut that shit loose and be fully in the now.”
“What if it doesn’t go well?”
“It probably won’t. That’s not the point, and you know it. Now stop stalling.”
I walk past the raggedy wooden fence. I remember when my brother painted it white the last summer he lived in Salem. Taz told me the fence was his goodbye gift to our mother. She hadn’t appreciated it, regularly complaining that white fences were ugly and showed dirt too easily. I think she was really just angry about Taz leaving. Just like Verina left. Everyone left her because staying was fucking suffocating.
I stop at the porch steps and look at the sleeping cat. My dog, Baby, didn’t like cats. I knew he was long dead, but seeing the cat brings the reality home.
“I wish I took my dog with me.”
“You couldn’t take care of it.”
“No, but he was mine.”
Dino leans into my ear and whispers, “Then why leave him?”
I realize my cheeks are wet. Wiping them angrily, I sigh. “I didn’t want her to be alone, and he was a good dog.”
Taking my hand, he walks up to the door and knocks. I’m surprised Gilda hasn’t already appeared. She always knew when people were around the house. The woman can simply sense trespassers. It was her gift. Like crying on cue and having sticky fingers.
“Who’s there?” Gilda says even though she knows we’re coming.
“It’s Minka.”
“Oh!” she cries.
The big wooden door opens, and my mother’s face appears. She isn’t as old as I imagined. For a moment, I don’t recognize her, though. I think it’s the curly red hair.
“You came back,” she says, hugging me tightly.
Despite everything I promised myself, I hug her back and begin crying. My mommy loves and misses me!
Gilda looks at Dino and smiles sheepishly. Wiping away my tears, I continue to cry, but my brain is desperate to run the show. Don’t trust her! Gilda lies! It’s all she knows how to do! Run!
My heart only wants to make nice with the lady who gave me life.
“Hello,” Gilda says, shaking Dino’s hand.
“Hello, ma’am.”
“Call me Gilda.”
Dino flashes a heavenly smile at her, and my brain again screams for me to wake the fuck up. She’s flirting with him! Punch her in the face and run!
We walk inside the house, and I’m overwhelmed with nostalgia. The potpourri scent fills my nostrils, and I hear the sad melody of the grandmother clock ticking. This house was where Taz, Verina, and I played before we were old enough to know where the toys came from. I still remember the last time Santa visited and how angry I was about the necklace in my stocking. Weeks earlier, I’d seen the nice woman at the food bank wearing it.
“What are you doing these days?” Gilda asks as we sit across from her.