79 Road

The smile on your face,
Lets me know that you need me.
There’s a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me.
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall.

Arkansas
He points to a distant hill and tells me that this is where I’m from. The air smells of soap, and the trees bear the largest flowers I’ve ever seen. My sister says nothing but simply looks down at her feet. The drive from Texas in the middle of the night has been hard on her, but she’s just a baby. Though frightened at the beginning, I enjoy my time with him, happy that he has returned to our lives. I stand on the bucket seat and look through the windshield, but the clouds retake the hills.

“Hey buddy, reach down into that cooler and hand Daddy another beer.” The wind whistles sharply through the vent window, and I hear the ‘clink-clink’ of the turn signal, which has been switched on ever since we got onto the interstate.

***

I pin her hands underneath my knees and force my weight upon her chest. I go straight for the neck, first feinting left to get her to turn, and then attacking the now exposed skin on the right with my whiskey shadow. She screams in laughter and starts to kick, but she’s trapped and cannot escape.

I hear a small child crying behind me.

***

Arkansas
He introduces us to our great-grandmother Berlene, who seems older than any person I have ever met. She spits what seems like grasshopper juice into a coffee can and beckons us forward for a hug. I can’t escape the dampness of these hills, and the altitude and overnight drive and Grandma Berlene’s missing teeth have all made me dizzy.

We are shown to our room, which we share with another girl and another boy, who they say are my cousins. I remember the boy from the yard, because he threw rocks at me and my sister when we got out of the car. I was scared for the boy, because my father hits us when we throw rocks. But he didn’t get angry with this boy and told me to go and play.

There is a trash can next to my sleeping bag, and I throw up into it while the boy watches. My sister sits next to me and cries, but she’s only 4.

***

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetie.” I move aside and Alex takes Naya into her arms. “Daddy was just playing with Mommy. Shhh. Shhh.”

She sucks her thumb and buries her head into Alex’s shoulder. She watches me while her mother rocks her, keeping me at bay with her little stare until her eyelids grow heavy.

***

Arkansas
Five days later, we leave the foggy hills back for Texas. At a gas station counter, I pick up a Matchbox Mustang and press through the plastic to feel the hardness of the metal and try to spin the wheels. I don’t dare ask him for it, but I do catch him looking at me. He shakes his head and I set it back on the shelf.

When the cashier turns around to get the pack of Viceroys he asks for, my dad takes the Matchbox and slips it into his jacket. He pays for the gas and cigarettes and we leave.

***

She puts Naya back to sleep and comes back to me. But my playful mood has passed, and my thoughts return to projects and deadlines. My ideas for chapter headings now mix with street names from long ago, so I give up for the evening.

***

Texas
“Get up,” he breathes into my face. We wake in the darkness, and the warm air tells me we’re home. He has brought us to our apartment at Rachel Arms, where we moved when he left us. It’s much smaller than our old house, but there are more kids and we’re happy.

When my mother opens the door, she covers her mouth with her hands and reaches down for us, taking us both in her arms. She is shaking, and holding us too hard. She pulls us inside and tries to shut the door, but he pushes his way in. She begs him to leave, and my sister and I take each other’s hands and back away.

We watch and grow full of memories that seem like time lapse photography of county fairs and carnivals, and magnolias coming into bloom, white blossoms opening and closing like fireflies through foggy hills.