Southern Boy Charm | ✓

Chapter 30

The next morning, my head hurts more than I could have ever imagined. Two hammers beat at my temples, over and over, until I can barely take it anymore. I don't know what I expected, a severe concussion is not something that goes away overnight, but it certainly wasn't this. I roll over on my side and grab the Advil off my bedside table. Red, blocky numbers reading five thirty-two shine from my alarm clock, cutting through the pre-sunrise darkness. Despite the time, I am anything but sleepy.

Kelly, my mom, and I had gotten back from the hospital at around midnight, and from the exhaustion of the night, Kelly and my mom collapsed on their beds the moment we arrived home. I, on the other hand, barely had the bravery to go inside. All I could think about as I stood on the porch, staring at the unopened screen door, was Nick. Nick, clutching at the staring wheel, surrounded by marred, twisted metal, as I lay limp beside him; Nick, lying down comfortably on his bed as the doctor examined me in the hospital; and Nick, his voice shaky and raw on the phone, whispering promises that I would so love to believe as true, but couldn't.

I still can't.

I tiptoed in, trying my hardest to avoid every creaky panel of wood and carpeted step as I made my way to my room. When I entered undetected, I remembered the relief I felt that I wouldn't have to face Nick in person. Saying those things on the phone was hard enough; but saying it to his face? I was almost positive that my resolve would crumble instantly, and I would fall back, once again, into the enchanting aura that is Nick.

But now, after a restless night of tossing and turning on my small, wooden bed, I wasn't so sure if it was my stealth that allowed me to avoid Nick last night, or his own accord. I had imagined that he would want to make things right, to stand at the door, trying to change my mind. That still wouldn't change the way that I felt about us and his reckless nature. But, even though I know it's stupid and immature, it would have been nice to know that he cared.

However, somewhere between three and four in the morning, I had decided that I was only going to focus on the present. It was the only way that I stood a chance in letting go of Nick, this summer, and all the amazing memories along with it. So, as I stare out the window, hints of amber peeking from the horizon, I sit in the moment and enjoy the last sunrise I will ever witness here on this farm.

Golden light slowly bleeds through my room as the time ticks by, and I busy myself with packing my belongings. Each shirt, each pair of pants, reminds me of him. The flimsy flip flops I first wore when I entered the animal pen and stepped in a pile of not-so-sanitary animal matter. The distressed jean shorts I wore when Nick pushed me into the creek. The floral tank top, embroidered with delicate daisies, that I wore when he first took me riding on Snowball. The wispy dress I wore when he took me out for dinner and I realized that I could stare into his eyes forever.

I fold each of these memories, neat and orderly, and pack them into the suitcase, burying them underneath my other items of clothing and deep inside my memory. Whenever I feel a memory resurfacing and the urge to cry building hot inside my throat, I fold the item tighter and tighter until it's as small as it can possibly be. I move quickly, not wanting the task to take any longer than it needs to, and by the time the sun is fully shining in my room, the morning impossibly bright, my room looks just as it did when I first walked in two months ago. I think about that girl, flopping on the bed and hoping anxiously that Jack would call, and I can't help but notice how different we are from each other now.

When I haul my suitcase and duffel bag down the stairs and into the kitchen, my mom is already downstairs, her suitcases leaning against the wall. She looks at me with the concerned eyes that only a mother can manage. "How are you honey?" she asks.

I try to flash her a reassuring smile, but it comes off as a grimace at best. It doesn't matter anyway. Even if I had shone the brightest smile in the world, my mom would still be concerned. "My head just hurts," I say, trying to combat her unconvinced look. She already knows that something happened between Nick and I, hence her agreeing to our early departure, and is bothering me, but she doesn't comment on it.

Kelly peels herself away from the cluttered stove, each burner containing a different pan, and pulls me into a tight hug. It lasts longer than usual, each of us not wanting to let go, but eventually she makes the first move. She doesn't say anything afterwards, just returns to her post at the stove, but I swear that I can hear her sniffling.

I sit at the table, taking in the ranch one last time. The living room, cluttered with trinkets and pictures; the kitchen, now filled with eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and pancakes to commemorate me and my mom's last day; and Kelly.

She's changed so much since my first arrival here. She looks stronger. The wrinkles on her forehead and around her smile are no longer symbols of grief, but strength. She moves with a purpose, her back straighter, her chin up. I know that these last few months have been hard on her, but having my mom around and seeing Nick happy must have helped her get through it. The grieving process is never really over, I know that much, but she looks happy, and maybe that's okay for now.

The three of us eat our breakfast twice as long as we usually would. None of us want to leave. Nick never joins us, and no one ever comments on where he is. When we're done, we place our plates slowly into the sink, clean up the kitchen, and grab our suitcases. We load each one into our trunk, one after the other, until there is nothing left to pack into the car but ourselves.

"Thank you guys so much for coming this summer. It meant the world to me." Kelly has tears in her eyes as she says it, her voice wavering.

"It meant the world to us too," my mom says, and I can tell that she is on the brink of crying as well, and they pull each other into a hug. Kelly's arm reaches out, pulling me in too, and suddenly we're all hugging and crying and squeezing each other so tightly we can barely breathe. I don't want to let go of this summer, of this ranch, of them, of him. I want to hold on for dear life and shut my eyelids and never, ever, leave this moment.

But all things must come to an end.

So, as my mom reverses out of the dirt driveway with Kelly standing on the porch, waving us goodbye, I take in one last look. I try to ingrain the trees and the fields and the small quaint ranch deep into my mind so that I will never forget the place in which the summer that changed my life took place. I keep my eyes locked onto the ranch through the window, twisting my neck so that it stays in my vision as long as physically possible.

Only when we're so far away that the farm is reduced to nothing more than dot-sized trees, do I finally look forward.

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Only a couple more chapters left! I hope that you guys enjoy, and please vote and comment! 

-K