Page 9 of Sunrise Arrows

“That’s beside the point.”

Laughing, we sing the words to my own song at the top of our lungs—her using the steering wheel to play the drums with her palms and me whipping my head side to side as the beat drops and tempo increases.

We continue on like that, singing every song we know that comes on and making up words to the ones we don't until the speed limit begins to gradually decline and we’re welcomed to Berry Falls by picturesque wooden signs on either side of the road.

Ten years and for a moment, it’s as if not a single day has gone by. The signs are the same now as they were then. Intricately carved, bright white pillars hold up the signs, not a hint of sun bleaching having occurred or humidity induced algae creeping up. The painting behind the bold lettered “Welcome to Berry Falls” blends the rolling mountains, fields of ripening strawberries, and the emerald colored lake the town is famous for, and it’s as pristine as I imagine it was the day the painter first made it. To cap off the charming welcome to town, a white-tailed fawn is laying in front of the immaculately cut bushes, unafraid as it watches us.

“Oh my God!” Briar squeals, grabbing her phone to take a picture. “It’s like a little Hallmark town. Do they have, like, blue ribbon competitions for the best shortcake and pie? Please tell me that they do.”

“The first week of May is the Strawberry Festival. Carnival rides, an opening parade with the high school’s marching band, and yes,” I confirm, “A Best Pie and Best Shortcake judging as well as Mini Berry, Teen Berry, and Miss Berry Falls pageants.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m serious. I didn’t come until Memorial Day weekend, but Archer said it’s like a whole big thing every year with actual rivalries between current and former winners of the Best Shortcake ribbon and accusations of sabotage and store bought shortcuts.”

“Weneedto go,” she decides. “Like, we can’t be friends anymore and I’ll be forced to quit if you do not take me. I need to experience this. It’s like being an anthropologist and going into some remote village in, like, the Amazon or something. I need to study and see the Hallmark people in their natural habitat.”

“Oh my God,” I laugh, pointing forward to show her the light’s green and Mikey’s already crossed the empty intersection.

As we drive, the thick trees that have lined the road and hung over us begin to part and make way for sidewalks and homes. Children with backpacks are riding their bikes, parents are pushing strollers, and grannies are on porches with pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade and plates with homemade treats waiting on side tables. Everyone waves to one another and says hello as they pass by, and for a moment, we’re caught up in the small town charm. We wave back, and Briar nearly vibrates in her seat like a kid who’s just arrived at Disney World and not Berry Falls.

“Okay babe, I need the rundown.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, rolling up the window as two grannies chatting on the street corner do a double take after waving to us. Even though I know the people in this town will keep my being here secret, I’m not ready for anyone to know just yet. Rather, I’m not ready for him to know. I need more time.

“I’ve known you for ten years and in all that time, Archer’s been a non-starter. You almost never talk about him or this town. In fact, you keep everything from before locked down tighter than Fort Knox unless you’re writing. Hell, ten years and I know, like, almost nothing about this man. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a picture of your muse.”

“Can a man be a muse?”

“Tins,” she says, low on patience for my attempt at avoidance. “The man inspired an entire album. Aphenomenalalbum that you’ve sat on for all these years and then out of the blue while on tour you wanted me to get you studio time so we could get those songs recorded and released into the world. So yeah, a man can be a muse; at least that man can. Now spill.”

With the windows up, I take my hat off and begin releasing the braids in my hair, trying to buy myself a few minutes.

“Tinsley,” Briar sing-songs to the beat of the SUV’s blinker. “I’m waiting.”

I sigh and look out the window.

“What do you want me to say, Briar? I was eighteen and… Archer was… he was everything to me.”

He was everything to me and if only to myself, I can admit he still is and that I wish I was still everything to him. And even when it was clear that I wasn’t, I still came back. After a year without him so much as sending me a text, I still came as promised because he was the only one for me, and I hadn’t spent a single second of that year not hopelessly in love with him.

And in the nine years since I last saw him, that hasn’t changed. The only difference is, now I’m tired of pretending it has.

Briar isin disbelief as she runs her hands over the silhouette of the parking meter.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says for the third time.

I’m trying not to laugh, but the instant love she had for Berry Falls is dying a quick death as she checks, yet again, for a place to tap the credit card on.

“Do we not have change?”

She ignores me as she looks up and down the street, muttering, “Is there not a parking kiosk?” She takes several steps down each side of the sidewalk, stretching up in her heels, before throwing her hands up in the air. “What in the ever loving name of Mayberry is wrong with this place? Who still uses coin operated meters?”

“We could call Mikey and?—”

“No!” she snaps, pointing the credit card at me. She flips her hair over her shoulder and squares up, chin raised as she proudly informs me, “I did not fight with them all day yesterday and for the entire flight today for your chance to be proven right that you can move freely about this town without them acting like Doom and Gloom as they hover over you to turn around and call them for help twenty minutes after we get here. You wanted a real vacation where you could exist with no connections to being Tinsley Jacobs, and I’m going to make sure you get it.

“You pay me to handle things, and I can handle this.” She pulls out another card and says, “You stay with the car in case Barney Fife wants to give us a ticket, and I’m going to order our coffees. I’ll simply get cash back and ask them to give me, like, a roll of quarters or something.”

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