Southern Sunshine (Southern 8)
* * *
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.