71 Home

We had made our way through quaint small towns some that reminded us of where we grew up. I did notice that he drove out of the way to avoid our home town too. The old dilapidated, paint peeling, porch sagging, should've been condemned years ago, southern bungalows, cottages, and Victorian homes were scattered throughout these small towns. Jackson must have noticed my unease as we passed through a few of these places, because his hand was quick to find mine and hold it firmly squeezing it every now and then.

We decided on doing a zip line tour, which was terrifying for me for the first line we did, but soon I was enjoying it. Jackson laughed as we were put into the harnesses and I approached the 'practice' run. My feet had trouble moving forward as the guides assured me that the gear is check and checked again before it's used and my safety line was there just in case.

My shaky legs inched closer and I was attached to everything. The guides assured me I'd be fine, just to keep my legs up and straight out in front of me like I was sitting on the floor to get to the next platform fast. They warned me about putting too much on the brakes too soon, that I could end up stopping too soon and have to scoot my self the rest of the way.

I took a deep breath and after a false start, took another breath and went. I flew to the other platform squealing the whole way. When the other guide helped me to the side I was shaking with adrenaline and laughing.

"You did great. You ready for some more?" The guide chuckled as Jackson made his way down the line.

"See that wasn't so bad." Jackson chuckled as he landed on the platform and gave me a quick kiss, bumping our helmets in the process. By the end of it, we had hiked, zipped and had a blast seeing the country side from a different view. It was over quicker than I wanted to admit but we were hungry.

We asked the employees at the zip line where was a good place to eat in the area and we were directed to a barbeque place, Danny's* in the little town of Athens. When we first pulled up to the tiny little dark brick and stone building, I wasn't sure how good it was going to be, but they swore we would not be let down by it. The second we stepped out of the Lincoln, the scent of smoky meat had my body dragging me towards the door like the building held the holy grail inside.

Walking in, it was set up like a cafeteria, where we grabbed a tray and looked at the menu on the wall and then told the man behind the counter what type of meat we wanted. I overheard another woman ahead of us order and went with what she had. I ordered the brisket stuffed baked potato and paid attention to the others in front of us to see how we acquired the sides. I watched as he chopped up the brisket and shoved it into the potato with some butter and offered me cheese and sour cream for it. I scooped my own coleslaw, mac n cheese and peach cobbler onto the dishes provided before letting the lady at the register add up our totals.

While we were paying, I overheard an older man, one you would expect to see on a motorcycle with gray, curly hair to his shoulders, introducing his daughter, husband, and grandson to the owners. He was saying they were out visiting from California and how much his three year old grandson loves barbeque. His manner stuck with me how proud he was of his daughter and you could see the love he had for her in his eyes. It made a small ache in my heart occur, wishing I had been so lucky to have a loving father like that.

We sat down to eat and it was amazing. The smoky, tender meat, BBQ sauce, the cobbler... I ate every single bite, even though it pained me to do so, but it was too darn good to leave behind. Me and Jackson were so stuffed when we left and were thankful we had stopped in. We got back on the road and started heading back to Dallas. We were both quiet from the food coma's we had almost put ourselves in, just basking in each others presence. Eventually my mind started to think about the father introducing his daughter. The look on his face kept running through my head. My thoughts flickered back to the morning I left home and to what I thought I heard my dad say before I shut the door.

'Proud of you, my girl.'

Would my father really have said he was proud of me? He always smacked me around, beating me for the smallest things there for two years after my mother left. I was nothing but a gold digging, backstabbing and ungrateful whore just like my mother every night he'd come home. When I was about fifteen he hurt his back at work and I helped take care of him until he could go back to work again. That was a long month. His beatings lessened after that, but his mouth was still just as cruel, even if his backhand wasn't as powerful. Maybe it was still as powerful and I could just take the hits better by then.

Recalling from the time I told him I was leaving to go to college and I was moving into the dorms, my dad did seem different. He'd still snap at me for stupid shit, like his beer wasn't cold enough when I'd hand it to him when he got home, or he thought I'd over or under flavored dinner. However, he didn't hit me at all during those two weeks until I left. Now, that I think about it, even the snapping at me was not as venomous as it would have been normally. He even remembered which day I was leaving. It was almost as if he wanted to make sure he was up early enough to be in the living room when normally he'd still be passed out snoring away. As if he wanted to actually say bye to me.

"Jackson. Can you drive through our home town?" I ask before he starts going to take the roads to get around it.

"Are you sure?" He really takes a good look at me and I nod.

He makes sure to stay the course and when we start approaching the city limits, I hold his hand tightly. Jackson still knows the way to go to get to our old neighborhood. He parks his vehicle down the street from our old houses and turns to me.

"What would you like do now? Drive by and just look or leave?"

I sigh, unbuckle, and step out of the vehicle. He climbs out with me, taking my hand as he comes to my side and tries to read what I'm up to.

"I drew the clubhouse earlier yesterday and I just feel the need to go visit where it was." I inform him, not ready to talk about my thoughts earlier in the car.

Jackson nods and we enter the woods through the still empty lot that leads to the woods behind these houses. The woods are green, the sun shining warmly down through the gaps in the leaves, lighting everything that's changed. There's a lot more new growth, as to be expected, but we see some the older oaks we remembered as kids that we would climb or collect acorns from to throw at each other. It doesn't take long before we come across the charred, rusted remains of metal barrels. The clearing we remembered is now dotted with young trees and everything is overgrown with wild grasses and if it wasn't for charred barrels, we may not have realized this was where it was.

Jackson holds me as we look at the area, walking around the barrels, finding pieces of our make shift chimney next to the barrels. We walked a little farther until we saw our back porches.

I chuckle escapes Jackson and I glance up to him, a quiet question in my eyes.

"I used to think that this was a lot deeper in the woods than what it actually was."

I let out a light laugh, "Yeah you are right."

We're about to turn around when some one comes rushing out of my old house, which surprises me. No one should be there.

"Hey what are you doing on my property?!" An older woman comes rushing out, yelling at us.

Jackson looks at me and I steel myself turning to her, "I could ask you the same question? What are you doing in MY house?!" My father passed away so I inherited the house, at least that's what I had thought. I had not bothered looking at any of the paperwork, but I still paid the taxes on it each year since he had passed.

Jackson grabs my arm, "Melita... that's..."

The woman stops in front of me and my heart drops from my body. My ears start ringing and I feel like my body is in quicksand.

"Mom!?"