To finally put down some roots somewhere where children grew up the way I’d always wanted to.
It wasn’t like I was destitute. Things would work out. I knew that. I just had to think of it as part of the ride, and if the people in Wynne were anything like the woman I’d met at the diner, offering half her meal to me without expecting anything in return, I was in the right place.
Some days I thought I missed Rachelle, then I’d think maybe it was just the idea of her. Other days, the harder days like today, I was angry I’d tricked myself into believing someone else might actually want what I did.
When I pulled up at the house, and saw the mess I’d left, out in the open for anyone to take, I wanted to give up for the night and just go to bed.
Then I remembered the furniture we’d picked out and paid for wasn’t there yet. I’d had to reschedule the delivery, and it still wouldn’t be there for a few more days.
I opened the garage and unloaded the rest of the trailer, sorting boxes by room. After I had every piece out and organized to move into the house as I’d need them, I opened the back hatch to my SUV, pulled out my sleeping bag and the duffel I’d packed for myself, and went inside.
Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.
I woke up early after dreaming about the wavy haired girl from the restaurant. It was one of those dreams I couldn’t really remember, but I was sure I’d looked at her face all night. Remarkably, I woke up feeling pretty good about the day.
I’d moved all of my things across part of the country by myself.
I had a new house.
A new job.
And it was a new day.
I wasn’t going to start my new life in Wynne with a chip on my shoulder. It didn’t feel right unpacking all of the last month’s baggage from Cleveland here. So I chose to let it go the best I could.
I showered in my empty upstairs bathroom, put on the clothes I’d packed, and headed to the garage in search of my coffee maker.
All I needed was water and power, and even if I didn’t have much more than that in the house, I did have those.
I could drink it black.
My coffee mug, a few coffee pods, and the maker found, I made my first cup of coffee in my new home and listened to a light rain shower pass over through the screen door.
As I waited for the rain to stop, I took out my phone and made a list of things I had to accomplish in the next few days.
It was a long list.
It would have been much easier if I’d had more time, like the original plan. And it would have been easier if I’d had a partner to help, but nonetheless, it was my list and the only way to work my way down it was to start.
I found my radio in the garage, plugged it into an outlet in the living room, and opened all of the windows.
At only nine in the morning, I decided painting the laundry room was my first task. It was the smallest room to tackle, and if I could accomplish at least one whole room, it would be the momentum I needed to confidently attack the rest.
As I hauled out the old washer and dryer—which wouldn’t ever go back inside—and cleaned the floors and walls, I listened to the country music that filled my house.
Little by little, I saw progress, and little by little, I got excited.
If Wynne was anything like the people and places in the music on the radio, I had a lot to look forward to. No more looking back.
I was right. The books at the shop were even more screwed than I’d thought.
Why had he let it get so bad?
That morning Dad went to a farm sale with Dub, not to buy anything, but because they were both nosy like that. They’d poke around through the tools and parts, and stick around to see what someone’s old shit went for—all just to see what their crap at home was worth. I’d left right after he did, so I wasn’t worried about him asking me why I was working on a Sunday.
He hadn’t mailed anything out? or deposited anything for weeks. I was sure the account was messed up at the bank, but I’d deal with that on Monday. At the moment, my biggest concern was getting all of the invoices out and sorting through the payments we’d received that he hadn’t marked as paid. After I dug in, though, it wasn’t too confusing. It was like he just stopped doing it one day, so I started from there.
When I finished with the invoices, I went through all of the open purchase orders and noted some of them weren’t marked as received, but I knew that Dean could help me with that next week. I’d get those paid and we’d be fine.
It wasn’t a talk I wanted to have with my dad, but it was time he let me handle the billing. Also, it was a good time to get Dean into the habit of doing the ordering. We could use a new computer or two, and that would be an easy way to make my dad walk away from it.
Dad’s mechanical work was still great. Maybe he just needed a break from the other stuff. And let’s be honest, I had plenty of spare time at work to help him with bookkeeping. It just wasn’t until then I’d noticed he’d needed it.