In the wake of her father's death, Spencer Edwards' mother packs up their lives from Oxford, England, and moves them to the middle-of-nowhere Texas. With an agitation for agriculture, and a distaste for anything farming, the small town of Cherry Spr...
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Outside it is warm and blue and April. - Sylvia Plath
Chapter Song - Time Of The Season by The Zombies
Sweat trickles down my spine, rays of glistening Summer Eve sun burning down on my skin. It's a sun I've missed over the last few years. Our Texas sun, though hot and bright, is a warmth I haven't had time to soak up in since being so focused on bull riding.
But you don't win a world championship by laying under the Texas sun.
"Nuh uh, you can wait to have those drinks. Have some water if your thirsty." Ma tells me as I go to grab a canned drink from one of the metal buckets filled with ice.
I huff, but grab a glass and pour myself some water anyways. No point in trying to go against her rules, she'll bite my ear off even if guests will arrive at any moment.
"Go change your shirt, Mav'. You stink like a pig." She orders, and I down the rest of my water before heading upstairs. Slipping off my sweaty t-shirt, I grab a clean plain white one and slide it on.
Every year before Summer officially arrives, our house throws a 'Summer Eve' party. It's a tradition my grandma started, and we've carried it on. We invite a bunch of people; the adults chat, the kids run and play, while us older kids head down to the waterhole and cool off.
Wouldn't call myself a kid, but everyone is a kid at heart in some way. It's how we survive. By keeping a piece of our childhood selves alive, safe, and protected.
"Mav', need ya help with some tables!" Dad calls from downstairs, and I jog back down. "Honey, are you sure we need another table?" He asks ma, only receiving a mild glare. "Right, lets go."
Heading down to the garage, we both grab an extra fold out table for outside. I set up one under the shade on the grass, placing a few rocks around it in case wind picks up.
"How come you never mentioned this childhood friend?" I ask him. "And him passing."
He sighs, rubbing his jaw. "I don't know. I guess 'cause the last time I saw him in person was five years ago, and we only ever called from then on. It just never got brought up," he answers. "I wish I had though, wish we'd gotten a chance to meet up again in person."
"You didn't go to his funeral?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
"I just didn't get the time or space to make my way over," he rubs the back of his neck. "I'll regret it, I already do. He was a great man, definitely not as smart as his girls though. They're academics through and through." He laughs, lightening the mood.
"They give off the vibe."
"Hey, I know Spencer seems closed off, but she's usually very bright." He tells me, a more serious glint in his eye.
