* * *
I roll my lips to stop the sob when I get off the exit. The familiar trees make me close my eyes and take a deep breath. The same trees from when I left six years ago and vowed never to come back.
* * *
No one is on the road in town, and I look around at how much it’s changed. The diner is still there, but a couple of cute little stores are next to it. One looks like an ice cream shop, and the other looks like a hairdresser right next to what looks like a spa.
* * *
I drive past the sheriff’s department and then the bar, but it’s closed. My heart pounds in my chest, and my breathing comes in slow spurts. "Relax," I tell myself. “It’s only two weeks. I’ll be gone before anyone asks any questions."
* * *
Turning down the dark road that leads to the house, I can’t help the sob that rips through me. I put my hand to my mouth as the house comes into view. This time, there’s no light on to welcome me home like he always used to do.
* * *
I park in front of the house and see that the grass is longer than he would ever keep it. The landscaping in the front is overgrown with weeds. I look in the back seat at Sofia, who is still sleeping. Getting out of the truck, I grab my keys and walk up the two steps that lead to the porch. His rocking chair rocks with the soft breeze. “Hey, Pops,” I say to myself.
* * *
After unlocking the door, I return to the truck to grab Sofia. I unbuckle her, and she wakes up. “Are we here?" She rubs her eyes.
* * *
"We are, baby." I kiss her cheek and take her in my arms. She places her head on my shoulder. Putting a hand on her back, I walk back up the steps, and my eyes turn to look at the chair, somehow hoping he would be there.
* * *
Walking into the house, I’m expecting it to be exactly like it was the last time. But it’s not. Nothing is like it was. The living room is gone, and in its place is a hospital bed. If I wasn’t holding Sofia, I would have fallen to my knees.
* * *
A lone chair sits by his bed, and I wonder if he had someone who looked after him. I wonder if he had someone come by and talk to him. I shake my head, angry he didn’t let me help him and went through all that alone without his family. Walking toward the stairs, I see that a layer of dust coats the picture frames. The stairs creak while I walk up to go to my old room.
* * *
My queen bed sits in the middle of the room with a white sheet over it. It’s exactly like I left it six years ago. The clothes that I left on the chair in the corner are still folded. I walk over to the corner of the sheet and slowly remove it, dropping it to the floor.
* * *
Picking up a pillow, I smell it before putting Sofia down on the bed. I pull the covers to the side and place her down. She turns on her side and falls back asleep right away. I tuck her in, kissing her cheek softly.
* * *
Walking down the stairs, I go to grab our stuff out of my truck, and when I stop to look up at the house, I see it’s almost in shambles. My grandfather would never ever have let it get this bad.
* * *
Carrying the bag up to my room, I place it down in the corner. I look out the window, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Walking back downstairs to finish unloading the car, I close the front door and refuse to look over at the hospital bed.
* * *
I kick off my shoes and collapse on the bed beside Sofia. When I push her hair away from her face, she turns, and I pull her into my arms, and my eyes close.
* * *
My heavy eyes flicker open and then close again, my body aching when I feel a head on my stomach because Sofia is sleeping like an octopus. I try to go back to sleep, but I need to pee. I slip out of bed and go to the bathroom, then wash my face. I grab a towel, and the minute I bring it to my face, I smell my grandfather. I bring it closer to my face as the tears come.
* * *
When I walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs, the sunlight is starting to come in through the windows, and I stop in my tracks. It’s dirty and dusty, and I know that I will spend the greater part of today cleaning this mess.
* * *
The kitchen is not as bad as the rest of the house. I open the fridge and see it’s almost empty. The freezer is filled with microwave meals he used to hate, and I shake my head. Turning, I make myself a coffee.
* * *
I grab my mug and open the back door, stepping outside. The deck looks like the wood is rotting. I walk to the step and sit down, the whole time holding my breath, hoping I don’t fucking fall through it.
* * *
Birds fly over me, and their chirping makes me look toward the barn. I gasp out in shock when I see its condition. The roof looks like it’s fallen in on the right side, and the skylight on the left side looks busted. Bringing the mug to my mouth, I remember the last time I was in that barn.
* * *
It was two months after Reed left, and I was leaving the next day to go to college. My stomach had been giving me issues for a month, but I chalked it up to the nerves about leaving home. Only when my phone alerted me that I should be getting my period did I stop and think of the last time I got it. I borrowed Pops’ car and drove two towns over to get the pregnancy test, and the bag felt like it weighed a thousand pounds when I walked into the house.
* * *
"Did you get everything you needed?" Pops asked me as soon as I kicked off my shoes. My hands trembled, wondering if he was going to ask me what was in the bag.
* * *
"Yeah," I said. “I’m going to go make sure I have everything packed." I smiled at him, and I tried to ignore the tears in his eyes.
* * *
Going to the bathroom, I read the instructions five times before finally taking the test. Putting it back in the bag, I hid it in my pants when I walked back out of the bathroom.
Pops was in his bedroom, so I made my way out to the barn and opened the door just enough to slip inside. Ever since Reed left, I never came in here anymore because the heartache followed the anger I felt. The memory of that night was still the only thing I dreamed of.
* * *
I walked up the ladder and sat down, pulling the brown bag out of my shirt. Taking the test out, I held it in my hand. My eyes fixated on the lines. "One line," I said to myself. “Please just stay one line." I didn’t know who I was praying to that night, but whoever it was didn’t hear my pleas. The second line came out brighter than the first line. My heart stopped in my chest, and the test dropped out of my hand. I lay down on my back, looking out the window with my hand on my stomach, and I already knew what I was going to do. There was no other choice for me.