Tired of the Bruises

Chapter 3

My goal is to make it through at least two states, which would take me to Oklahoma. Then, I will be only four states away from my destination of California. I feel like I am making very good progress, but I have no idea how people do this more than one time. One time is just enough for me.

I plan to get an early start due to my large goal. Pulling out of the Wal-Mart, I roll down my window and let the breeze come into the relatively warm car. I have already used 21 gallons in my 22 gallon gas tank since I have filled up. I am only going to fill up when I absolutely need to so I can save up more money. I need to find a gas station though. Spotting a Shell station, I put my blinker on and swing into an empty pump. I see a black and silver Ford Fusion out of the corner of my eyes. I don’t know why, but it catches my eye for some unknown reason. I guess it is for a pretty darn good reason because someone from that car yells out my name. I turn around and the car has now pulled up next to me.

“Are you Mira Barone?” the person asks and I nod my head slowly.

“This is a letter from your father. Read it very carefully and do not skip anything,” the man hands me a letter and I take it with a lot of hesitation. The Ford Fusion speeds out of the gas station, leaving me in the dust. I lean on my Toyota to regain my composure. This is crazy. I mean, this can’t be a letter from my father. Did my dad send that man to follow me just to give me the letter? Am I even the right person? Of course I am. He said my name. Unless they were looking for another Mira Barone who ran away because of her dirtbag, abusive father. No, it’s not even possible.

My gas stops pumping once the tank is filled. I am in a world of my very own, moving my limbs without a single thought. Once I get in the car, I settle on opening the mysterious letter from my “dad”. I pick up the crisp, pristine envelope and look at it, biting my lip with curiosity and a mix of nervous. I slide my index finger under the flap and open it slowly. I piece of lined paper falls into my lap. It reads:

Mira,

I know that you ran away. To where, I have absolutely no idea, but you need to come home immediately.  You obviously know the consequences will be harsher than they usually are because of your actions.

Sincerely,

Your dad

Oh my goodness. That is my dad’s handwriting. My dad really did send that person after me and hand me a letter telling me to come home. Well, too bad. He should know good and well that I never give up. That is how I got on the varsity team my freshman year for my high school. Hard work and determination are what is going to win me that prize money and scholarship to Furman.

Reading and thinking about this letter have put me behind schedule. Just to read those three sentences took me a total of twenty minutes. I make my decision to hit the road again. I need to get my mind off things. As soon as I see a Chick-Fil-A, I am getting a cookies and cream milkshake. I always get a large, so I never get a small. Finally, I see one on the right side of the road. I rapidly pull into the parking lot and stop the car as close to the door as I can. I take the keys out of the ignition and walk into the restaurant. Lucky for me, there is only one person in line in front of me. Nevertheless, unluckily, they seem to want to buy the entire chain of Chick-Fil-As’. Waiting for what felt like twenty years later, I finally get to the front of the line.

“Welcome to Chick-Fil-A! What can I get you?” the cashier asked me.

“Can I get a large cookies and cream milkshake?” I say politely.

She tells me my total and I pay, almost wanting to take the money back because I have been feeling like I am going to run out of cash soon. That would be very, very bad. I do not have a savings account, so I would not be able to take anything out of a bank. Quickly, my milkshake comes out, looking perfect. I thank the cashier as she hands me my guilty delight and I walk out of the restaurant.

When I climb into my car, I immediately turn on the radio to the modern pop station. Midnight Memories by One Direction is playing and I turn the radio way up. This is one of my most favorite songs in the entire world. I sing out loud, and very loud to say the least.

I quickly down my wonderful milkshake. As I put the empty cup I my cup holder, my phone dings. I look over at it and it is from an unknown number that is not in my contacts. I pick it up and slide the screen to unlock it to read the text message. I gasp and drop my phone once I read what it says.

I know that you read the letter. If you know what was good for you, you would come home.

Oh, wonderful. Just plain wonderful.

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