Quilts, Tacos & Tattoos

Finding Home

I followed Nana back to the lake house and parked the car right behind hers. Nana got out and said, "I wasn't sure you were going to go through with it."

I looked at her stunned. "You told me to drive the car home, and I did."

"I know, Sweetie, I am just so used to you and your mother not listening. Well, I should say that I am used to you both doing your own thing."

"Did you ever do your own thing, Nana, or did you follow the directions of everyone around you?"

"That is a whole other story," she said.

I turned away from her and the house. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I would like to go home for a minute. I need to get some clothes for tonight and tomorrow."

"You want me or Pa to go with you?" She asked as she turned toward the house.

"Nope. I'm good. I'll be right back."

"I'll call Pa Walker and tell him to keep an eye out for you."

"Thanks." I started out walking quickly, but by the top of the hill I was in a sprint. It seemed like it had been months since I was last home. I needed to be inside, alone, and safe.

I ran to the front door and found it locked. I turned around, slid my back against the doorframe and just sat in silence for a while.

I remembered the extra key and went around back to find the old golf shoes by the back door. I lifted the left shoe, pulled up the padding and reached in to locate the spare key, then pulled my hand back. I turned the left shoe upside down and beat it against the wall just in case a spider had decided to make a home in it. The key clinked out of the shoe and fell to the ground. I reached down to pick it up and started crying.

This was not my safe home anymore. My dad had taken that away. I felt like a visitor with a short amount of time left to visit.

I wiped my tears and opened the door. The house was just as we had left it two nights before, except for the smell of sour milk left in my cereal bowl in the sink. I walked to my bedroom and fell on the bed staring at the ceiling. I sat up and started quickly packing stuff into a bag.

Suddenly, my head was filled with a million questions and uncertainties, Who was this man, my dad, anyway? Where did he come from? Where had he been? Why did he scare me? Where was my mom? Did she go into the tattoo parlor? Was she still with Bud? Was this a date? Did he like her? How would she get home? Did I want him for a stepfather? I felt like I had just fallen off the earth. I wanted to turn time back two days.

The longer I stayed, the more aware I became that I did not feel safe. I was filled with questions again, Was he out front? Did I lock the back door? Should I run out the back door, the front door, go out my window? It was getting dark outside, and I needed to leave.

I was startled by a knock on the front door. Was it my dad? Frightened, I stood in my doorway clutching my night bag and looked back and forth between the window and the door.

"Cricket, it's me, Pa Walker. I came to walk you home."

A wave of relief washed over me. As I opened the door, I thought, Home? My grandparent's house? The little red house? Neither felt like my home.

"I see that you are ready." Pa Walker commented as he looked down at the little bag in my hand.

"Yes, I am ready to go." I left off the word home.

"Great! Your Nana wanted you back before dark."

"Thanks." I walked quietly with Pa Walker out of the front door and down the road to Nana and Pa's house. As we walked by the Walker house, Pa Walker paused. "Want some beans?" He broke off a handful of green beans from the vines climbing the chain-link fence around his front yard. He kept a few and handed me the rest. "These are perfect."