Southern Sunshine

by Natasha Madison

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I look down at the pink and snarly scar on my leg that goes from the middle of my thigh to my knee. I get up, and the skin pulls tight as I walk over to the bathroom and dim the lights. After turning the shower on, I turn to look at myself in the mirror. My eyes go to the scar on my side that I got while on a training exercise, making me think back.

  I arrived at base more excited than I’ve ever been in all my life. Arriving in Georgia, I couldn’t wait to start and woke up before everyone else. It was a sixty-two-day Ranger program, and I finished at the top of my class. My body had bulked up during this. I closed myself off from my family and my life back at home, deleting all forms of social media and even suspending my cell phone. I called home once a week on Sunday using the base phone, but other than that, my life was on training. I worked my way up the ranks and trained with some of the baddest sons of bitches who ever walked the earth. I would die for each of my brothers, and I knew they would for me, too.

  When I went on my first deployment, I got another cell phone, but I drew the line at social media until Quinn and Willow had a baby. I followed just my family, and by then, my life was very different from theirs. They followed me as I toured the world, and to be honest, in the past six years, I’ve missed them a total of two times—on my first Christmas without them and when Harlow graduated. Other than that, I was okay.

  I hang my head as the water streams over me, my eyes closing when I see that little girl again, and I quickly open my eyes.

  "The mind is a tricky place," the psychiatrist said when I went in for a mandatory evaluation after I arrived in Germany. "Sometimes, it locks memories, only for them to come out when we least expect it."

  Turning the shower off, I grab a white towel and wrap it around my waist, walking from the master bedroom toward the kitchen. Turning on the lights and looking at the kitchen, I shake my head. My mother has definitely renovated this kitchen in the past two years. Everything is white.

  The massive island in the middle of the room has a marble white and gray countertop with three silver lights hanging over it. I walk to one of the cupboards and open it, trying to find coffee. Once I do, I start the coffee and walk back to the bedroom, slipping on a pair of boxers and shorts. The aroma of coffee fills the house, and I grab a mug to fill up.

  Walking out to the backyard, I sit on the porch step and look up at the sky. The black sky is turning a soft gray right before it turns a soft pink. I try not to think about the last time I saw this sky. I try not to think about Hazel and the last time I saw these stars. I put her back in the safe box of memories I’ll take to the grave. I drink my coffee, watching the sun wake up and shine down.

  Getting up, I walk back inside, my stomach now rumbling a little. Opening the big stainless steel fridge, I see that it’s full. I also see that my grandmother has sent over some of my favorite food. I start taking out the chicken potpie when I hear the sound of a car door shut. I look over at the clock on the stove and see that it’s a little after seven.

  "Welcome home." I shake my head when I hear the soft knock on the door. Walking to the door, I open it, and a smile fills my face when I see my cousin Ethan there. “This fucking guy,” he says, looking at me. “Holy shit, you grew." He holds up his hand. “I’ve got breakfast."

  I move to the side. “Come in,” I say, and when he comes through the doorway, he stops and gives me a hug.

  "Glad to have you home,” he says, and I nod.

  "It’s good to be home." The words taste sour in my mouth. "I think,” I say, shaking my head. Out of everyone here, Ethan is the one who might understand me the most. He left home when he was twenty-one, and no one saw him for seven years.

  I close the door and walk into the kitchen with him. “You were going to eat chicken potpie at seven in the morning?"

  "I haven’t had that in six years,” I say, laughing. “Fucking right, I was going to eat it at seven a.m."

  "Then I guess you don’t want what’s in the bag?" He holds up the big brown bag in his hands.

  "What’s in the bag?" I ask, and he laughs.

  "Grandma’s biscuits and gravy that she just made," he says, and my mouth waters just thinking about it.

  "I’ll have that on the side with the chicken potpie,” I say, walking over to get plates out. I scoop some pie and pop it in the microwave. "Do you want some coffee?"

  "Sure, I’ll have a cup,” he says. I can tell he wants me to be comfortable with him. I pour him a cup of coffee and another one for myself.

  He walks over to the fridge and takes the milk out to pour in his coffee. Pulling out the stool at the counter, he sits down, opens the bag, and takes out two containers.

  I grab two forks and hand him one as I sit next to him. Opening my container, I moan when I see the food. “You can’t get this anywhere," Ethan says, taking a bite. “No matter where you travel to."

  I cut my own piece and close my eyes when the buttery biscuit hits my tongue. The richness of the gravy hits my tongue next along with the little pieces of sausage. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had." I chew and then take a bite of the potpie. “And this."

  "Nothing,” he says, taking his own bite. “And I mean nothing is like home cooking." He takes a couple more bites, and neither of us says anything. "So what did they do?"

  "Convalescent leave," I answer, not looking at him. “Doctor’s orders."

  "Gives you extra time to heal," he says. “Nothing wrong with that."

  "I have a training session at nine and then at three,” I say. “I’ll be fine."

  "What about talking to someone?" he asks, and I look over at him. “I needed all the help I could get when I got home. No one knew but me," he tells me. “I would sit with this guy who didn’t even say a word back to me. He just let me talk." He finishes chewing and then swallows. “Might do you good."

  "Maybe,” I say, avoiding his eyes. “I get re-evaluated in thirty days."

  "When is your contract up?" My sip of coffee suddenly tastes bitter on the way down.

  "Ninety days," I say.

  "Then what are you going to do?" he asks, and I look at him.

  "With what?" My leg begins to shake. This is why I didn’t want to come back home. I knew I’d feel guilty when I left them again.

  “Are you going to give them another four years?" he asks, and I nod.

  "Fucking right,” I say, getting up. "Wouldn’t want to do anything else."

  "Have you tried to do anything else?" he asks, and I shrug.

  "The farm life might be good for some people,” I say to him. “But not me. I hate it here. I always did."

  "You hated it when you were eighteen," he says. “Who knows how you feel now. Things change. People change."

  "I know one thing,” I say. “In ninety days, I’m signing another contract." He just stares at me. “I know that this"—I stretch my hands—“is not where I want to end up."

  "Well, you’re here for the month," he tells me. “Why don’t you put that chip away and enjoy your family?”

  “I don’t have a chip,” I say, and he laughs.

  “You have a chip so big on that shoulder, it’s holding you down." He pushes away from the counter. "Trust me, I know. I had the same one."

  "I’m not you,” I say, and he just smirks.

  "We are all the same,” he says. “I have to go get my kids to school." He nods at me. “See you at nine."

  "What?" I ask, surprised.

  "Who the fuck you think is going to train your pussy ass." He laughs now. “And don’t think I’m going to go easy on you either."

  I clap my hands together. “You sure you got it in you, old man?" I bait him, and he flips me the bird.

  "I’ll remember that when I push you so hard you cry,” he says, turning and walking toward the door.

  He stops and turns. “Welcome home, Reed." I don’t say anything else to him. He walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

  "Twenty-eight more days,” I say out lo
ud. “And this place will be a memory once again." I’m nervous about being home and having to answer the questions that might come my way. The biggest one being what took me so long to return.

  Chapter 4

  Hazel

  * * *

  The clock on the radio tells me that it is just past one in the morning. Looking in the rearview mirror, I see that Sofia has fallen asleep. The lone tear runs down my face when I realize I’ll be back home in an hour.

  * * *

  After I hung up the phone with the doctor, I went to see my boss. I knocked on his door, and he looked up. He was the one I worked closely with during my internship and offered me the job. His smile quickly faded when he saw my face.

  "Come sit." He ushered me in.

  * * *

  "Thank you," I told him, but I stood instead. I was afraid that if I sat down, I would curl up into a ball and sob.

  * * *

  "I just got a call that my grandfather passed." The words coming out of my mouth were still surreal.

  * * *

  "Oh, no." He walked around his desk to hug me. “I’m so, so sorry. What can we do to help?" he asked.

  * * *

  "I’ll have to go home to handle his affairs," I told him, and he just nodded.

  * * *

  "Whatever time you need, you take it," he said. “We are already up to speed with all your work."

  * * *

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Thank you. I will know more when I’m there." I left his office, and it didn’t take me long to close up my files.

  * * *

  I arrived at Sofia's school early and took her out of class. Her teacher was very sympathetic and told me she would email me stuff to help keep her busy. I kept my sunglasses on the whole time as I spoke with her.

  * * *

  Once we got home, I took them off, and that was when Sofia noticed.

  * * *

  "Why you crying, Momma?" she said, coming over to me and hugging my hips. "You want to eat ice cream?" she asked, and I smiled down at her.

  * * *

  I brought her to the couch and sat with her on my lap and told her that Pops had gone to heaven. She didn’t really understand, and I knew this because as I packed our bags, she asked me if Pops would take her on the tractor. When he would visit they would spend hours talking about the tractor from home. It was her favorite thing in the world to talk with him about. There is a picture by her bed with him on his red tractor, and every single time he came to visit us, she would ask about that tractor.

  * * *

  I shut off my mind as I packed the car, then made sure she had her iPad fully charged, and we were off. It was an eight-hour drive without stopping. We only lasted forty minutes until she had to pee, and then after another hour, she was hungry. Needless to say, it was going to take us ten hours with all the stops we made.

  * * *

  The GPS tells me that my exit is coming up, and when I look up, my chest starts to get even tighter. I’ve spent this whole drive with tears running down my face, replaying the memories of Pops and me. Growing up, I never lacked anything, and he made sure he was there for me every single step of the way.

  * * *

  I think back to the last words he said to me. "I love you till the end of time." If only I knew it was the last time, I would have spent more time talking to him to ask him all the questions.

  * * *

  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 fuckin
g 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.