A Snapshot of Dixie

32: A Cry for Help

DIXIE

"This looks amazing! Thank you, Iris!" I check myself out in the small handheld mirror, running my fingers over the gorgeous fishtail braid that Iris whipped up.

"You're welcome. My mom has long hair and taught me all kinds of braids. Now you look like the complete fan with your ripped jeans and Bulldog jersey. Whose is it, by the way?"

"Oh, it's my friend Hurleys." I tuck the front of the white and azure blue jersey into my jeans and fluff it out a little.

"Friend, huh? Don't girls usually wear the jerseys of their boyfriends to football games? At least that's how I remember it from high school. Kinda like the whole letterman jacket thing. What I wouldn't give for times to be simple and romantic again." Iris stares off into space, forcing me to rehash the romantic entanglements she said she had with Jeffrey. By the looks of him, I'm guessing he's about forty years old or so. What on God's green Earth would possess her to get involved with someone that age is beyond me, but she seemed to care for him.

Looking at Iris as she awaits my response, I shake my wandering thoughts and reply, "I suppose yes, but Hurley's not into girls." My eyes widen, realizing I said that out loud.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense. Guys make better friends anyway." She replies and spins around to her side of the room, putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

Mentally slapping myself in the forehead, I realize my brain must still be fogged from listening to Iris tell me about Jeffrey earlier. She claims he asked her to get tickets to Tucker's show because he needed information on someone in Tucker's life, prompting Iris to get invited to the afterparty. I was in the middle of finding out more but her father showed up and nipped the conversation.

Hearing her father scold her for coloring her hair made me realize that I'm not the only one who has a harsh parent. I swear to God I will never treat my child like a piece of property that I can finagle to be whatever I want them to be. A flourishing child should be exactly that, left alone to prosper in whatever path they choose. 

Thinking of parents reminds me that I need to call my dad and Tucker before the game starts. My father left me a voicemail earlier but it was all static and I could hardly hear him.

"I'm gonna step outside to make a couple of phone calls. I'll be back."

Iris shakes her head as I grab my phone and slide on the sandals Tucker gifted me.

Rushing down the steps, I open the door and dial my dad's number first.

"Hi... What... Peaches..."

"Dad? I can barely hear you!"

"I'm... I'll... Later... Love..."

Seeing the call end, I notice the time is nearing 6:30 PM and the game starts at 7:30.

Quickly pulling up Tucker's number I call him, anxiously chewing on my fingernail, hoping he answers.

Ugh, voicemail.

"Hey, Tucker. We seem to keep missing each other. I'm headed to the first home football game, but I wanted to tell you some big news that I got today! One of my professors offered me a spot to showcase a photo that I took. One that you just happen to be my dazzling subject for. Anyway, call me when you get a chance. Love you!"

Pressing the button to end the call, I gaze at the evening sky and wonder if this is how our relationship is going to be from now on. Tucker plans to move back to Birmingham and of course, I'll be here, but tons of people make long-distance things work, right? I don't know why but I have this icky feeling that this won't be an easy journey for us.