A Snapshot of Dixie

29: Ready to Run

TUCKER

Life should be all about seizing your moments, knowing what you want and fighting for it. The simple act used to be easy to perform, but I'm beginning to see why they say the grass isn't always greener on the other side. Taking hold of my moments includes a whirlwind of lies and secrets that I'm not even sure I can overcome.

All I know is I'm fed up with everyone and everything...

"That's beside the point, Felicity. He's obviously progressed and fooled you into thinking he was someone he's not..."

Listening to my parents bicker back and forth only enhances my sudden need to run far away and never look back. It's been hard to control my thoughts when every single one of them is screaming, "This is so fucked up!"

"I don't understand how the two of you expect me to believe all of this. It's a crock of shit!" I shout, snarling at my mother.

Amongst everything I've learned over the last several hours, her involvement in this blows my mind more than anything. The two of them should get an Oscar for their performance because they sure as fuck fooled me.

"Tucker, you don't understand. Come sit down, please?" Momma summons me with her waving hand, expecting me to continue to listen to their garbage excuses.

Shaking my head in disgust, I plop down on my grandmother's dusty rose floral couch. It never fails that the potpourri flowery scent greets me as if I have the fragrance lodged in my nostrils permanently. It's the most pungent odor I've ever endured. As a kid, I would try to open a window to breathe and Grammy scolded me so harshly that I thought my brain would forever be imbedded with her words.

"Did you sleep well, Tucker?" Glancing to my right, I nod at my father as he grins and sips from his coffee mug. Watching him act like everything is normal irks my mood even further.

After finding the two outside the arena last night, we decided it would be best to continue our conversation elsewhere. But my body had other plans. As soon as we got to my grandma's house, I passed out hard and woke up this morning to her German Shepard Buck licking my face. As a country boy, I love all animals, and I've always wanted a dog of my own. Momma never wanted us to have one because she said it would only chase and kill our chickens. Little did she know we didn't need a dog to chase them away. We had a man named Walker James who sold them all to feed his sickening addiction.

"Would y'all like some biscuits and gravy for brunch? Walker, you look like skin and bones." Grandma Cece asks, limping toward us on her cane.

"We're fine, Momma. You should be resting that leg, not worrying about cooking us food."

"Oh, hogwash. I'm just fine, Felicity June. Cooking is about the only thing I enjoy in my old age. Do you remember when your daddy almost burnt the house down trying to make toast? Some mornings I swear I wake up and I can still smell the charred bread." Grammy giggles, wearing the face of mournful memories.

My Grandpa Benjamin passed away six years ago from diabetes. My grandparents had been together since they were kids and I always admired the love between them. It seemed so strong, and I remember secretly wishing that my parents would look at each other the way they did.

Damn, this whole time, the signs that my parents weren't as happy as I thought have been right under my nose. How is it possible for two people to stay together as long as they did if they aren't in love? This whole thing is just too much to try and understand.

"It's been far too long since I've had your home cooking, Grammy. I'd be happy to help." I walk toward her and she doesn't hesitate to pinch my cheeks.