Page 5 of Pretty Relentless

When I reach Eldridge Road once more, instead of turning left and continuing my drive through the countryside, I opt to turn right. I’m curious as to whether Marcus is there yet to retrieve Ava’s car. It’s only a few miles up the road, and thanks to the falling snow, there isn’t any traffic out right now.

The road is somewhat flat, but there is a big bend coming up. As soon as I drive around it, the lights of Pine Village comeinto view. They’re off in the distance, but there, nonetheless. I can also see the blinking orange lights of Ava’s disabled Kia. Decelerating, I slowly approach her vehicle, noting how perfect and fitting it is for her. It’s a small, sporty SUV with all-wheel drive. I’ve seen her scoot around town and on snowy country roads with ease and love how comfortable she looks in it.

Just as I prepare to pull over and make sure no one fucks with her car—despite having yet to pass another vehicle—I see the flashing lights of Marcus’s tow truck up ahead. He’s on his way, which means there’s really no reason for me to hang around. It’s not like he needs my help or anything. Marcus has been working on automobiles since he was old enough to walk, cutting his teeth on oil changes and brake lines. His grandpa owned the original shop, and as he grew up, raised by his grandparents, that’s where he spent all his time.

He learned from the best and, about five or six years ago, purchased the shop.

I give him plenty of room as I pass, watching in my rearview mirror as he pulls the flatbed truck in front of Ava’s disabled vehicle. Knowing there’s nothing I can do but head home, I continue forward, reaching the city limits of Pine Village fairly quickly. I move through the streets, recalling how I’d walk them or ride my bike as a kid. I grew up not too far from where I’m at, so I head in the direction of the house my parents still live in after forty years of marriage.

I’m the youngest of three, and the only one to stay in our hometown. I love the small-town vibe, while my older brother and sister thrive more in the city. Both live in St. Paul, Minnesota, just a short thirty-minutes on the opposite side of the Wisconsin/Minnesota border, so they’re still close enough to check on our parents and get together for birthdays and holidays.

When I turn onto Grinnell Drive, I spot the familiar light in front of the living room window on, and I can practically see my parents sitting in their respective recliners, watching late-night television. You would think it was the news, but it’s not. They’re huge Jimmy Fallon fans, watching it faithfully with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of beer.

My parents are cool like that.

I always thought I’d be just like them when I grew up. As the youngest, I sort of got away with everything by the time I was in high school, but even though I was an ornery shit, I always longed for the relationship my parents seemed to have. Oh, it wasn’t perfect. They argued and, at times, told each other where to go, but at the end of the day, they talked it out and vowed to do better.

My marriage to Julia was nothing like that.

Not even close.

I pass my parents’ house, wanting to stop but not at this hour. Not that it’s late, but I’m sure my mom worked hard to prepare for tomorrow. We’ll be gathering at their place for Christmas Eve dinner. Since it falls on a Saturday, it was easy to plan around my siblings’ schedules and when I have Annabelle. I get her all day tomorrow, and while the thought of not seeing her on Christmas morning kills me, that’s the way the holiday schedule falls.

Julia and I split the time fifty-fifty, and while it was a huge fight and long court process to get to that point, I don’t regret it. Having my daughter with me as much as I can was my goal, and thanks to a very expensive lawyer, we were able to get shared custody, despite how difficult Julia made it. The major holidays are rotated, so while Annabelle is with me Christmas Eve and her mom Christmas Day this year, next year will be the opposite. I make the best out of it, making sure my grievances with Julia don’t touch our daughter.

As I worm my way through the city streets, taking in the houses decorated with Christmas lights, my mind returns to Ava. I don’t think she’s dating anyone, which surprises me. She’s smart, beautiful, and has a good head on her shoulders. I’ve never understood why some guy hasn’t scooped her up yet. But you never hear of her dating anyone, and believe me, in this town, you’d hear. Everyone makes your business their own.

Eventually, I drive home, pulling into my attached garage and parking. I use these drives to help relax me, but I feel like after finding Ava stranded on the side of the road, I’m anything but. I’m tense, and my mind is consumed by her. As much as I try not to think about my daughter’s gorgeous teacher, I can’t stop.

This is definitely going to be a long night.

“Ready?” I ask Annabelle as I pick her up on Christmas Eve morning. It’s exactly eight o’clock, and my daughter is full of smiles and excitement.

“Yes,” she informs me, making sure her coat is zipped and her gloves in place. “I’m so happy it snowed last night. Now it feels like Christmas.”

I take her overnight bag, which contains what little bit of stuff she doesn’t already have at my house. “We’re leaving, Julia,” I holler at my ex, who, surprisingly, hasn’t graced me with her appearance at the door.

“She’s still sleeping,” Annabelle states, making sure the door is locked behind her as she closes it.

We walk toward my truck, and when she climbs in the passenger seat and I have her bag placed on the floorboard, I ask, “Did she work last night?” I know full well she didn’t. It’s not harvest season, and even then, Julia rarely works evenings because of our daughter.

“No, just up late, I guess. I woke her up when I was getting ready and told her I was leaving.”

I nod before closing her door and heading for the driver’s side.

Julia works at her dad’s grain elevator in Hudson, about ten minutes away from Pine Village. She takes care of a lot of the office side of the business, and in fact, that’s how we met. I was driving a truck for a farmer, hauling grain to the elevator one harvest, and bam, there she was.

Gorgeous.

We hit it off right away, and the next thing I knew, we were talking about marriage. Like three months after we met. I was twenty; Julia barely twenty-one. Got married, had a kid two years later, and battled until the day we finally acknowledged it was over.

It wasn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong, but we learned pretty early on that we weren’t right for each other. Yet, we still tried for the sake of our daughter. However, in the end, divorce was our only option, especially after I suspected she wasn’t faithful. She never confirmed it, but my gut tells me the rumors were accurate, especially since the guy she was supposedly screwing was my former employee—who quit the moment his name was mentioned as being linked to her.

But all that is in my rearview mirror.

I’m happy and healthy, raising my daughter, working as the local contractor, which I love, and doing my thing.

“When are we going to Grandma and Grandpa’s?” Annabelle asks.

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