Chaos and Control(33)

“I thought you’d be proud of me, Bennie.” I kick at a pebble and watch it go bouncing into the grass. “I wanted to find my independence, and I knew I’d never do it here. Not like you did.”

“You left,” Bennie slurs. “And now you’re back. And all is forgiven.”

She reaches for me. Her fingers brush my bangs to the side and slide down my face, wiping my tears. Snap. I hear a loud noise from the tree line and look into the darkness. The park lights don’t reach that far, so I see nothing but leafy blackness.

“Come on, Bennie.”

She wipes the tears from her face and starts walking. I follow behind her quietly, checking over my shoulder every few minutes. We don’t say another word to each other. I help her up the stairs and wait for her to unlock the door. I linger in front of Preston’s door and wonder what he’s doing in there, why he didn’t show up tonight.

When we’re inside, I try to help Bennie to bed, but she tells me no.

“Catch you on the flip side. And stay out of my room,” is all she says, closing the door in my face.





Each footstep toward her A kid toward Christmas This new routine suits me Walk alone

Wait

Walk together

Tonight I stand

Toes at the edge of a gravel lot And see them

Her and him

A them that stops me dead I scroll through

The list of known emotions And discover something new Filed right between

Happiness and joy sits jealousy It covers me like a lead weight Sinking my feet into quicksand Her and him move closer And I cannot bear to watch My own execution

- Preston





Chapter Eleven


Urban Cowboy


I toss and turn most of the night. Dozing off just long enough for Dylan to make an appearance in my dreams. It’s not a nightmare reliving my time with him. It’s a new nightmare—one where he appears here in Crowley, chasing me through tall fields, a never-ending game of cat and mouse. Even after I wake, I can’t shake the sick feeling in my stomach.

Around one o’clock, I force myself out of bed and into the shower. I pull on my clothes and rake my fingers through damp hair. In the kitchen, Bennie sits drinking coffee in her bathrobe. She looks miserable.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal and get the milk from the fridge.

“No church today?” I ask.

She doesn’t look up from her newspaper. “What’s the point?”

Grabbing my bowl and a spoon, I take a seat across from her. “I don’t know. What was the point?”

“I guess I was looking for answers,” she says absently.

“And now you’re not?” I take a bite of cereal and the crunching is so loud in my head that I don’t hear her mumbling response. “What?”

“Sometimes the answer is not the one you wanted to hear.”

“Okay,” I say, giving her a strange look. This Bennie is unlike the woman I left behind. There are pieces of the old Bennie in there, wrapped in patchouli and old Alanis Morissette lyrics. But the newer parts stick out like thorns. She keeps secrets, and I don’t like it.

“Let’s do something fun today,” I say.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go to the lake and get some sun.”

“It’s late, Wren.”

“It’s summer. The sun doesn’t set until after eight o’clock. Come on. You need to sweat that alcohol out of your pores.”

“Fine,” she says, offering a flimsy smile.

“Yes!” I hop up, dance around the kitchen, and head to my room. “Get ready, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

“Bossy little shit,” Bennie mumbles before disappearing into her bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, we are in Bennie’s car, driving out to Lake Loveless. It’s only a forty-five minute drive from here, South of Franklin. This time of year, there will be lots of families and kids around. Bennie and I used to go to the lake to escape the pressures of being Reverend Hart’s kids. We would lie in the grass and point out shapes in the clouds. Those were the best days. I used to pretend we were in Europe, picnicking on the bank of some river, sipping mimosas and eating caviar. In reality, it was too close to home, two-dollar wine, and gummy worms.

When we get to the lake, it’s just as I predicted. There are kids chasing each other around picnic tables, men standing over hot grills cooking up lunch, and moms tending to toddlers in the shade. We walk away from the crowds and find a quiet spot. Bennie slips out of her shoes, lays her quilt on the ground, and takes a seat on one end. I shimmy out of my shorts and kick them off before pulling my shirt over my head. I’m wearing my bikini from high school. It’s a little small considering I’ve gained some weight back since returning to Crowley, but still cute.

“Holy shit!” Bennie says. “Let me see that.”

I turn and let Bennie inspect my tattoo for the first time. I can see the appreciation and wonder in her eyes as her fingers ghost over the design. It’s a beautiful henna and floral image that starts on my right side and travels diagonally under my navel, stopping just above my pubic bone. It is mostly black and gray with splashes of pinks, purples, and golds mixed in.

“I always wanted a tattoo.”