Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
That’s how I learned that my boyfriend broke up with me.
From Amon fuckin’ Parrish.
They left at the end of May after graduation. And even though they came back together one time that first year, Collin didn’t even call me.
Easter night, twelve years ago, was the last time we spoke. He listened to me rant and rave and then he said, “I’m sorry, Lowyn. I gotta go.”
I thought he meant he had to go home or something. That we’d pick this conversation up at some point. But on Easter Monday, he didn’t show up for school. And when I went to his house that afternoon, his mama said he moved out.
Moved. Out.
“Where did he go?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Well, he can’t just move out! He’s in high school!”
But that wasn’t true. He was eighteen.
I never did find out where he was staying. He had a Jeep, but he wasn’t living in it. And knowing what I do now, I imagine he was staying with Amon, maybe.
I was so hurt. And back then, kids didn’t have cell phones. Not kids where I grew up, anyway. So I could call that landline all I wanted, he wasn’t gonna be there.
He came back to school, and I did try and corner him once, but he wouldn’t even look at me. He turned his head as I yelled in the hallway in front of his locker. And when I was done, he just walked away.
Not another word.
I gotta go. That was the last thing he ever said to me until last night at the bar.
So how am I supposed to feel about this?
On the one hand, I’m giddy at the thought of him being around again.
But sad, too. Because of how we ended. And because I don’t know him anymore. It didn’t really hit me until he said those words, “Our opinions diverge here,” that I felt all the missing pieces inside me.
Because he always had the heart of a poet. He used to say the most beautiful things to me. Not telling me I’m beautiful, though he did do that. Just the way he always had a new word to take the place of an old one, even in the most ordinary of situations.
Our opinions diverge here.
It’s art.
In the morning, I’m packing for this week’s pickin’ trip and Rosie’s mouth is runnin’ like a motorboat as I gather up everything I need from the back of the shop. She’s been talking about some guy named Scar who lives in Fayetteville, which is a big town down the river from Disciple.
I don’t even bother mentioning that a guy called Scar is probably not the best choice because she already knows this. Rosie picks the bad ones every single time. She doesn’t ever pick anyone from the Trinity area. But she doesn’t ever bring them home to meet Cross, either, so everyone in Disciple gives her a pass on her dubious taste in men.
Whatever happens between her and these men is her business, I guess.
But just as I’m putting my little travel bag into the back of the truck, she changes the subject. “So… what’s up with you and Collin?”
“What do you mean?” I close the back passenger door of the truck, walk around, and open the driver’s.
She huffs at me. “He’s back. Obviously single.”
“How do you know that?”
“Amon told me. Said they’re both single. In fact, all the men up there in that compound are single. Every girl in Disciple just let out a sigh, Lowyn.”
“Good for them. We’re not together, Rosie. We’re not going to get together, either.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I scoff. And I don’t feel like talking about this. So I just change the subject. “I’ll be back on Thursday night, as usual. My itinerary is on the board in the break room. Call me if you need anything.”
Then I get in the truck and close my door before she can say anything else.
She’s still smirking at me as she waves goodbye from the parking lot.
I’m heading southwest for this trip. I’ve got appointments set up near Knoxville, Chattanooga, and Memphis. That’s probably as far as I’ll get. Then I’ll just turn around and drive home on Thursday morning. I love pickin’ Tennessee, and I haven’t done it in a while. Almost two years, maybe. I’ve spent the better part of the last year up in the Great Lakes region, so this will be a nice change.
About three and a half hours into my trip I make my first stop at a beautiful farm just outside Johnson City. There’s a wrought-iron gate with a stone wall on either side, so I just let out a long sigh as I make my way up the driveway.
This woman is a dealer. Her specialty is mid-century toys. Which is a hot item, all the time. Everyone loves toys and they just don’t make them the way they used to. Haven’t for decades.