Finds You Well

One: The Letter

Aspen

I white-knuckle the steering wheel of my Chevrolet Impala, wiping angrily at the tears that never seem to end. The drive had been relentless with multiple instances of pulling off to the side of the road drowning in the waters of a mental breakdowns. They would soon be followed by me pulling back onto the road after giving myself a good old-fashioned pep talk. I pass the sign for Williamsburg, Virginia and roll down the windows. The sign normally filled me with a sense of nostalgia, a joy that floods my veins. It's a sign that says, "Welcome Home, Rouge". It's a sign that sings "Mama, I'm Coming Home" and you better be belting the lyrics out at the top of your lungs because it's a ballad that demands all hands-on deck.

Today, it fills me with shame. Today, as I pass by, it reminds me of the future that slipped through my fingers like sand. I turn up the dial on my radio, The Beatles "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" floods the speakers of my car. I take a moment to inhale the familiar scents, to take myself back to happier times, instead of the sorrow that creeps its way into my heart like an unwanted visitor.

My drive takes me past the bakery where my parents would stop every Sunday morning on their way home from church with Nana Rouge. The pizza place where we'd eat every Friday night to wrap up the week. I arrive at one of the few stop lights in town looking over at the Rouge Vet Clinic seeing that it's closed for the day. I'd told my parents they didn't have to close the clinic today. Being a fully functioning adult, I knew where the key to the guest house was and could easily unpack my belongings by myself.

I make my turn The Tell-Tale Bookstore comes into view with its boarded-up windows and doors. It's ominous feeling settles into my bones the familiar chill up my spine follows upon passing by the wooden sign in the shape of a raven in flight. I always wondered what it would be like to own a bookstore. To be surrounded by paperbacks and hardcovers with an adventure slumbering in the depths of their pages.

It certainly had nothing to do with the stories that surrounded the building. Nothing to do with my curiosity into the strange and unusual. A curiosity that would always get me into trouble as a kid. It was why my parents had given me the nickname Penny Dreadful, the name of the miniature horror stories that were sold on the streets of London.

It was said The Tell-Tale bookstore was haunted. The story goes the spirit of its owner had made a deal with the devil to save his business. Soon after, there were multiple disappearances during the early nineteen hundreds. Late at night, you could hear screams coming from the basement. To sweeten the plot, we find out the owner refused to do the devil's work. Because he did so, his spirit was doomed to reside within the walls of the bookstore forevermore. It was a cheesy story, one to draw in the tourists. There was a couple standing in front of it right now smiling at their phone screens. They were taking pictures, frowning when they didn't come out just right.

I sigh heavily, tucking my hair behind my ear. The Beatles "Hey Jude" comes onto the speakers. I can't fight the smile that spreads across my face. There would always be significance behind this song. No matter how bleak things got for me. No matter how shit my life got, this song was always guaranteed to bring a much-needed smile to my face.

This was my second-chance, the first-step to moving on from what happened on campus. I'd start looking for jobs, complete the profile I started on the dating app that I joined, and apply for colleges down here like my parents had wanted me to. It wasn't going to be easy, but it'd be a welcome distraction from the memories that played on repeat in my head.

I wipe away more tears, singing along to the lyrics, taking the final turn that would lead to the town's edge where the Rouge home resided in all of its Southern Gothic Glory. Its wraparound porch comes into view. Papa Rouge must have done more work on the place. Its white siding glows in the afternoon sun. It's black shingles a welcoming change to its blue predecessors.