Page 85 of Player
He punctuates his sentence with another belt strike. I don't hear the rest because I start running toward my room where I lock myself in.
It's more than time for me to get back to campus. I never thought I'd be happy to return to OMU one day, but that's the case. I don't sleep all night. Not because I can hear Pamela and Bolton, from where my room is located, he could kill her without me hearing a sound. What keeps me awake is Dixie's image floating before my eyes. I can't wait to see her again.
But when I finally get back to our dorm , I realizeI'd forgotten something important. In two days, the whole country is going to celebrate Thanksgiving, and Dixie has gone back to Alabama to be with her family for the long weekend. Only the football and basketball teams will still be on campus because of athletics, and a few ‘scraps’ who have nowhere else to go.
That's what Keri tells me, at least. She won't be going anywhere.
"We can celebrate together if you want," she offers. "But I'm warning you, I can't cook."
I frown and shake my head.
Damn! Now that I'm here, I'm dying to see Dixie.
Suddenly, an idea forms in my head. There is a way to see her.
34
DIXIE
Being backin my teenage bedroom gives me a strange feeling, as if I'd left it just yesterday and yet it seems so long ago.
The white wooden furniture has both a classic and childish look to it, standing out against the turquoise painted walls. I still remember when my parents agreed to repaint them to my taste. I was twelve, and I spent weeks talking to them about this color that I dreamed about. I think I wore them down. Sitting on the patchwork bedspread hand-sewn by my grandmother, I realize how much I've changed in the span of three months.
I approach my vanity table where the mirror reflects the image of the adult I've become. Around the edges of the mirror are photos of my brother and me, of family, of the cheer team I was part of. My gaze lingers on a group of girls who were my friends back then.
My heart tightens. When I got injured and had to stop dancing, I cut ties with everyone on the team. It was too painful to be around them when I was no longer one of them. My friends tried to keep in touch, but I distanced myself, and they stopped calling. At the time, I was convinced I'd made the right decision. Now, I wonder if I did the right thing.
A knock on my bedroom door draws my attention. The door is open and my mother stands in the doorway. She gives me a smile, one I’ve missed. "I'm so happy you're here, sweetheart."
She comes closer to me and I slip into her arms. I breathe in her perfume that I know by heart. For as long as I can remember, she's always worn it. That's my mother—when she becomes attached to something, she remains faithful to it until the end.
She kisses my forehead before stepping back to observe me better. She frowns, as if struck by a doubt. "Is everything okay at school?"
I just nod, my throat too tight to answer. In reality, everything is not okay. Since Player left, I feel terribly empty. It's crazy to realize how he had taken up a considerable place in my life. Without even trying, he managed to invite himself into every moment of my existence at OMU and into every part of my being too.
"I can see something's bothering you, honey."
My mother's gentle voice soothes me as much as it makes me want to cry. I don't want to worry her, plus the rest of the family will be here any minute, and I don't want to face the pity-filled looks from my aunts and uncles. And even less answer the questions my cousins will surely ask.
"I'm sad that Bradley isn't with us for Thanksgiving."
It's not a lie; I miss my brother a lot and I was hoping to have a chance to spend time with him.
A veil of sadness passes over my mother's face. "Me too... I really thought he would get leave. They said that most troops do, but… I guess not."
I nod. I believed it until the end, but the good news never came. Today, as we've set the table and the turkey is in the oven, I have to admit that I'm going to spend Thanksgiving without him.
"We should go downstairs," my mother suggests. "Your grandmother should be here any minute."
I automatically glance at the clock in my room, it's almost eleven thirty, exactly the time when my grandmother appears at our doorstep every year. It's all the more notable because the rest of the time, she's always late.
"Come on."
My mother slides an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the stairs. We set foot on the ground floor just as the doorbell rings.
"I'll get it!" I call out before heading toward the hall.
Our house is old with a fairly classic layout, but I love it. This is where I grew up, and when I think of home, this building is what comes to mind.
