Page 3 of Flying

“Oh Petey, what am I going to do? It’s been a decade. These people don’t know me anymore. I don’t think they ever did. I mean, the girls are going to be excited to see me at the party. But… they will complain too. They will argue that I’m here now and that it’s all ancient history so I should just come back.” As I talk to Pete, the server returns.

“Sorry, did you ask me to come back?” he asks, a bit unsure if he heard me right.

“Thanks, I think I’ll just take the check.” The words barely leave my mouth before the black leather like folio is dropped on the table. I toss in twice as much cash as the bill for keeping it when they could have turned the table faster. I watched at least two rounds of seatings as I picked over the fries until they were too cold and soggy to enjoy anymore. Standing up and stretching my arms skyward, I lean back feeling my spine lengthen and my shoulders drop away from my ears. On an exhale I try to push more of the tension from my sore muscles. We’re close enough to a nearby park that I take Pete for a short stroll to put off returning to the car.

We meander for a bit, always keeping the car in my line of sight, even if it’s just a tiny teal speck. Pete finds the perfect little patch of grass and does his scratch-and-spin move that tells me that he’s ready to do his business. The soft shade of blue sky with sporadic big white fluffy clouds flying overhead is picture perfect. I’m setting up to take a few selfies whenever he’s finished when I notice in the camera the rolling gray-blue clouds headed our way. In late summer that can only mean one thing: there’s an early evening thunderstorm headed in to cool off the day.

I want to rush us back towards the car and avoid the weather butof course this is the moment Pete decides to live up to the boyish mischief his breed and namesake are loved for. Playing like he’s going to pounce at me, he crouches low giving a stubborn smile and tail wagging. I ask, command, cajole, yank the leash. If I move towards him to scoop his twenty-five pounds into my arms, he scoots away. I guess Pete wants to delay things too, I just was hoping to do it without being soaked to the bone.

I can already see a few drips of rain nearby with more starting to fall in thick sheets not too far ahead. Thankfully the loud thunderclap scares him into my arms, and I haul ass carrying him back to the car.

“Yes, inside in the nick of time,” I announce to him as though he understands me. The sheets of rain obscure my vision that I’m not sure I can safely get back on the road. Thanks, Mother Nature, for the additional delay.

After checkingmy social apps and doom-scrolling TikTok, I’m anxiously chatting at my dog for lack of a better plan right now.

“Pete, I know I played a part. I made shit choices. I was the chaos, from eighteen to twenty.” Exhaling, I watch his head tilt as though he’s skeptical of my timeframe.

“Eight. Twenty eight. Fine. I am chaos. But so are you,” I tease while scratching between his ears. He pants, his tongue hanging out of his lopsided grin, and I see so much unabashed love in his little eyes.

Pete licks a long line up my face, his telltale sign of anxiety. We’re twin statues of fear, rising as the summer thunderstorm swells. The bleak gray clouds and water streaks mirror how I feel: Foggy. Filtered. Inauthentic.

“I don’t want to go back to Peacock Springs, Pete. But… I want to go support Stef like she supported me. Like she supports me now. It’s the right thing to do. Even if there’s many reasons not to go, going is also the right thing to do.” I bounce back and forth between my thoughts of loyalty to Stef and my desire to stay away from my parents and ex-husband throughout the storm. Finally the storm inside my mind and outside the windshield are settling down. The blinking lights on the dashboard digital clock alert me to how late in the evening it’s gotten, if I don’t do the last hour of this drive I am truly going to end up sleeping in the car tonight. The rain has passed enough to allow for clear passage, and signaling my blinker I merge onto the road and continue southwest.

four

Lily

Turning off the highway, I start traveling the winding local roads back to the center of Peacock Springs. Passing by the fields we used to sneak out to drink in during senior year, memories begin to pop up for me that I haven’t thought about in ages. The party when Grant and I first kissed. Delia never was sure about him. River pulled away from being my best friend, but he did get closer to Grant—I assumed it was some sort of boy code. Stef and I would giggle while Nessa would ask endless questions about dating, kissing, and later more. Seth, also on the high school hockey team, would sit off to the side with a book and a beer clearly pilfered from The Featherweight. We were good kids, nothing totally out of the ordinary for seniors.

Approaching the more crowded suburban streets, I cross Independence Way, Dragonfly Lane, and Yale Court. The familiar signs boasting white letters on green metal standing tall and proud on silver poles. I weave my way through the neighborhood, passing the schools, and stop outside of a once-familiar house on Bangor Drive. The cloak of night shields me from the details of the tiny tudor, but it seems to be as I left it: Mom’s flowerbeds are neat and trim. Dad has kept the lawn meticulous as always. The maroon sedan in the driveway leads me to assume Mom still gets the garage priority spot. There are no lights on, which given the time is nearing midnightmakes sense. I sit staring, hoping to know why I am here. Closing my eyes, I can see myself here that last night.

Ten YearsAgo

The black teawith lemon and honey’s strong scent permeates the air while the mug warms my hands. I’m shivering despite the warm spring evening. The last twenty-four hours have been hellish.

“You’ll go back tomorrow and apologize, Lily,” Mom informs me sternly. “You’ll tell him that you forgive the infidelity, that you’ll never let his needs go unmet again and then you’ll be sure to show him how sorry you are.”

“You are suggesting that I am responsible for Grant cheating on me?” I’m incredulous and so disappointed.

“Lily, do not argue with your mother,” is all Dad could contribute. As usual.

“Daddy? Really?” I’m on the verge of tears as I listen to the two people I hoped would take my side continue to poke holes in this awful situation.

I woke up to check my email on his computer and instead was greeted by a text message coming in. Landan Sherman, town darling, naked and thanking my husband for the night prior. She called him Candy Man.A nickname I do not want to delve into.

“Next, you’ll go to James Kelly and create a plan to make things right with the Tourism and Business Committee. Maybe volunteer to give tours this year. Though, they may have other thoughts. The committee had an emergency meeting tonight,” Mom primly continues, ignoring my question and moving forward with her agenda.

The committee. They meet at The Featherweight.I nod along, “I’ll take it all under advisement.” I agree before rising to leave for the condo across the square. I can’t imagine doing any of this but I don’t know what else to do. I am eighteen years old, I’ve been married for about seven months, and I’m not working or studying. I’m just here in thisbuilding that is the worst part of the Morgan’s real estate portfolio that Grant promises he’ll fix up. Someday.

Before it gets better, it is continuing to get worse. I’m regularly cleaning up after his college hockey team. Grant lets them use our home for parties, so there’s always bottles of cheap alcohol and empty beers laying around. There are so many plastic cups: with dip spit, sunflower seeds, and lord knows what else that I clean up. I may not be in college, but I sure did get the whole living with the sports team experience it seems.

As I leave my parents’ house, I text River and Delia together hoping someone worked tonight and overheard something. Before I’m back in the center of town my phone rings.

“Hey River,” I answer.

“Hey. Listen, you need to pack your things and head out of town. Just for a few days while things get sorted and people cool off.” He sounds stern. It’s out of character.

“What do you mean?” I’m stopped in my tracks, staring at the black ring of grass from the tiny little fire I set this morning. I saw her naked thanks to the sex text message and snapped. I set his hockey gear, and some signed Wayne Gretzky thing on fire on the lawn.

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