Country Girl at Heart

Chapter 1

I can still feel the weight of the drugs.
     The cold metal from the handcuffs.
     What it felt like to be put on trial and given a death sentence.
It seems that way, anyway. I knew it was coming when I boarded the plane this morning but the farther I go, now that I'm driving through the middle of nowhere, the more real it gets. For the last 100 miles I've been watching massive fields of corn expand as far as the eye can see. Soon the green rows will open up to the small Texas town of Vernon. The population is a little over 10,000 people. A far cry from what I grew up with in New York.
     Sky scrapers are replaced with old western buildings. Instead of taxis they have work trucks. Fields upon fields take up more space than Central Park. There are more dairy farms here than Chinese take out restaurants in the city. Life in Vernon is more simple than where I'm from. A lot more simple. And not in a good way.
     I pass the single grocery store, gas station, and bar. Which are parallel to the ice cream shop, thrift store, and café. A post office is around the corner and schools are down the street. Basically everything is within a few miles radius. To say they don't need much is an understatement, and I'm driven right through it all, headed to the place where my real punishment begins.
     The drive itself doesn't ring any bells, seeing as it's been 10 years since I've last been here. It's the familiar dirt road labeled 336 E Oak Sreet that brings it all back. Same mailbox and everything. It comes up on the right side of the car when the driver slows for a pothole. I'm shocked the old, faded rainbows my once seven year old self drew are still there... back when the house at the end of this dirt path was my home.
     I remember the rainbows so specifically because that was right about the time my mom divorced Wren - my dad who I don't call Dad. The small town life didn't turn out to be what she wanted after all. Which to me, makes total sense. Who would want to live out here? Yet, for the next month, this is where I'm supposed to call home again.
     At least that's what the judge ordered at my trial a few weeks ago. If I think about it, being forced to live with a man I'm expected to call 'Dad', is actually a lot better than juvie. Which was my alternative. Luckily, my mom's new husband is a hot shot attorney and was able to pull some strings. He pleaded a deal where I spend one month at Wren's ranch, away from the peer pressures of the friends who he argued "influenced me to do what I did."
     Even though I didn't do anything.
     I sit up taller, more anxious than ever when the quaint farm house comes into view. It's much, much more beat down than I imagined. I guess the memories of the once thriving business Wren ran are really just that; memories. Although when I look there are still plenty of animals walking around like they own the place, which makes me wonder just how much has changed.
     "We're here." The driver parks, leaving to grab my suitcases from the back.
     For a second, I debate not getting out at all. It isn't too late to reconsider, right?
My door opens. "Ma'am?"
Too late now.
I climb out with caution. A minute later I'm standing in the middle of the road alone as dirt whirls around me, then chases after the car. I wait for it to settle before taking it all in. Two stories of a faded yellow house are before me, surrounded by other ranch-like structures. An old barn is still to the left and stables to the right. The porch swing hangs broken with one side of the chain connected and the other sprawled across the chipped flooring. I know there's a pig pen somewhere around here. I think one of those hay-bail tower things too.
For a second, I close my eyes to listen for the familiar sounds.
Horses.
Cows.
Chickens.
Pigs.
They sing through the air. A hint of manure flashes by every few seconds, reminding me this is what I have to live with for the next four weeks. Yay me.
     When I'm ready, I only take a few steps before he comes out. Clattering from the screen door makes me jump. Wren and I both stand and stare for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. Its been years since we've seen each other, how are we supposed to react to this?
     He looks older. Rougher. But isn't an old man yet, he's still good looking. Even has a full head of hair. His gut doesn't stick out any further than it did when we left, either. It's like nothing really changed about him. My parents were young when they had me, so he has to be about thirty eight. The look he's giving me though, says he doesn't recognize the girl in front of him.
     He doesn't recognize his own daughter.
     "Lexi?" He breaks the silence, walking over with caution. "You're taller." I guess his stronger Texan accent is the only thing that's changed, unless I just don't remember it that well.
     I almost laugh out loud at his simple observation. "Yup."
     "Well," he seems flustered, "ya wanna come in?"
     I nod, reaching for my bags.
Inside the house is unfamiliar except for the layout. Kitchen is straight ahead split by the family area, staircase to the right leads to an attic room with an adjacent hallway bathroom and the one on the left is a master and guest room. I feel like I'm in a fever dream where I'm seven years old and home but don't recognize anything. All decorations and furniture are different now. Even the smell is off.
     Wren stomps up the attic side and I immediately know why. I haven't felt this nervous until now. Everything in my body tingles with fear.
     "You remember your old room, don'tcha?"
     "Of course."
     I'm not sure what I expect. An office? Storage room? I don't believe what I see when he opens the door. It is quite literally my old room. The same exact twin bed with sheets covered in big white clouds. Matching the vibe of today, the wallpaper is disintegrating, stripping off in some places, but the rainbow plastered on all four sides holds on for dear life. My fear settles into nostalgia, surprising me as I feel weirdly comfortable in here. The tacky rainbow obsession isn't so bad after all.
     "It's a fixer upper but I could never get myself'ta change it. The blue color always reminded me of-"
     "The color of my eyes." I finish his sentence. We glance at each other, simultaneously remembering when he used to tell me that same thing as a kid.
Now I feel awkward.
    "Well, I'll give ya a minute'ta yourself'ta get settled in better. Dinner's at six, so if ya decide to join us..."
     I suck in a tight, surprised breath. "Us?" Mom didn't mention anything about other people living here.
     "My wife, Becky. And her daughter, Alabama? Your mom didn't tell ya 'bout 'em?"
     "No she did," I lie. "I just forgot. Be down soon." I smile with as much assurance as I can until he leaves.
     Then I almost lose all sanity.
How did Mom forget such an important detail?! Wren has a wife? And a daughter? It's one thing to know I have to endure living with him, but a whole new family?
     I dial my mom's number as fast as my thumbs will allow considering the dinosaur of a phone she replaced mine with. I throw myself on the bed with frustration and wait. The mattress dips with my weight. I definitely have to get myself some new things because this simply will not do.
     "This is Mona," her curt voice cuts through the phone.
I roll my eyes. Did she really not see that it was me calling? "Mom. It's me."
"Oh! How's my baby girl? The ranch treating you well enough?" Her sarcasm doesn't go unnoticed.
"You didn't tell me he had a daughter. And a wife!?" I whisper yell through the phone, just in case the walls are as thin as they look.
"Didn't I? Darn. Maybe that will be more of a punishment for the drugs you were doing!" More sarcasm.
I groan dramatically. "I don't do drugs." Even after taking multiple pee tests showing that I'm clean, she won't believe I had nothing to do with them.
"Okay, the drugs you were dealing, then. That better?"
"I don't deal drugs either. None of this is even my fault. Why don't you believe me?"
A loud sigh comes through the phone, then she clips her tone with impatience, "I don't know what to believe, Lexi. I can only hope this new living condition knocks some sense into you."
"Whatever. I can't do this right now. I have to go." I hang up the phone before she can respond, hoping she doesn't call right back and chew me out for it.
For the next hour, I busy myself until the anger dissipates. Fluttering around the room non-stop, stuffing my clothes into every drawer, crevice and space I can find. The closet is a lot smaller than I remember so I end up having to leave a suitcase full because at one point, I run out of luck and anger, to keep my energy up.
When the sun starts to set, I take the steps down to the first floor slower than a freaking tortoise, counting every stair to distract myself.
     Voices I don't recognize talk around the kitchen, sounding chaotic and noisy. I can tell while they converse about their days they're also setting the table, laughing at each others stories. It's a bustle of all things happy-go-lucky family. An environment I'm far from familiar with.
      Chairs screech along the wood floor, unknowingly giving me a signal that it's time for dinner. I debate around the corner for a few minutes before deciding to join them. This is so different than what I'm used to at home. Mom and Jon never make us have dinner at the table. We always eat in the living room, or on most nights, alone in our separate bedrooms.
     "Lexi, made it just in time." Wren gestures to the open seat.
    I sit quietly, feeling squirmy with three different sets of eyes observing me.
     "It's so nice to meet you, Lexi," the woman sitting at the end of the table says. She is your typical southern wife; hair teased to heaven with the flash of a welcoming smile. Modest clothing and her plain face gives her a homely feel. She's a mother hen through and through. Wren did good finding someone the exact opposite of Mom.
     "Hi." I give an awkward wave. "I'm sorry, I don't know your names."
     "Oh! I just assumed you knew who I- who we are." She points to the mousy brunette across from me.
     This time I attempt a smile only I know is nothing close to being real, more like just the polite thing to do. I can't have them thinking I'm a total heathen.
     "I'm Becky. And this is my daughter, Alabama. You guys are the same age!" Becky says with enthusiasm, as if I'm supposed to be excited about that fact.
     Alabama retorts, "You can call me Ali." She doesn't seem as ecstatic about having a house guest.
     "Let's eat, then." Wren interjects our brief pause.
     I watch, agape, as they fill their plates with mounds of food. A literal three course meal that could feed about six people is prepped for the four of us. Yet the three of them almost clean it out themselves. They look at me strangely when all I choose is the salad.
     Becky notices my apprehension. "You New Yorker's must eat very different than this."
     "Some what." I don't want to be rude by telling her the way we eat is nothing like this grease fest.
     "So how is it... in New York?" Wren asks.      
     My gaze bounces off his, not wanting to hold eye contact. "Fine. It's busy. Lots of people, lots of plans."
     "Hm," he grunts.
     "The way we live must make you feel like you're on a whole 'nother planet, don't it?" Becky's constant reminders of home are making me lose my appetite.
     "Something like that." I push food around my plate. "Some of it is familiar." I add, with an unwilling glance toward Wren.
     "I see." Becky notices. "But don't fret! With it bein' the middle'a summer you'll have plenty'a time to get to know the town. People here are so kind."
     I nod in return, knowing full well I won't be getting to know anyone in this podunk town. The thought completely drains me. And now I'm overwhelmed. "May I be excused?"
    Wren looks at me. "That's not how we do things 'round here. Normally we go in the family room and-"
     "Wren." Becky cuts him off with a knowing look.
     A thoughtful grunt comes before he says, "Okay, sure. We'll see ya tomorrow."
     With that, I take the steps two at a time and dull the laughter chasing me by slamming my bedroom door.
     "Ugh!" I yell to no one. How am I supposed to do this for a full thirty days? Live with these people who I don't know at all?! This summer will be full of awkward moments with Wren, I just know it. Already the first night and I can barely look at the man. Not to mention Becky's optimistic outlook on life which I will never be able to relate to. Then there's Alabama. Ali- Whatever her name is. Who I haven't figured out yet. She's pretty in the exact opposite wya that I am.
     The bed is the perfect place to catch the overwhelming exhaustion currently dragging my body down. I can't even breathe normal because the bed set choice and rainbows no longer feel safe.
So much for the nostalgia.
I'll have to call my mom back and figure out the money situation. If I'm going to survive more than a day I'll at least need a room that fits me. I don't feel like talking to her again tonight though, so I'll do it in the morning.
     As I try to sleep, the muffled sounds of family night seep through the floor boards, only growing louder the longer I lay staring at the not-so-happy rainbows. I curse the night that got me into all of this shit in the first place. Screw the people I used to call my 'best friends'. It's a deep, lonely feeling when I think about not talking to those people anymore. All I have is myself and this sunken mattress.
I'm not religious, but I fall asleep praying I can make it through the summer in one piece.