Small Town Talk

Prologue

Prologue

 I walked into class. He sat there, head in a book, as usual. Jeeze he needs to get a life - I think to myself. Reality check Riva! he doesn’t even think about you anymore. I wondered how many books he’d read since he started his obsession two summers ago. Marcus had been over to his recently and said he’d newly installed a floor to ceiling book shelf filled with James Patterson books. Obsessed much? What a loser. I made a harrumph sound as I continued to make my way to my seat. Our mutual friends still pass on information to us about the other as if we needed to know all the little details about each others lives. So his bull frog died. AND? I diverted my attention away from Benjamin Maher, who still hadn’t forgiven me for what happened- TWO FREAKING YEARS AGO!! Even when I’d apologized over hundreds of times. We’d tried being friends but gave up eventually. I refuse to keep putting effort into a friendship that I every time I turn my back I feel like my backs a target for your dagger. But hey! An eye for an eye I suppose.

My cell phone chirped; how annoying?! Why did it have to ring during in class? Didn’t anyone know how to be considerate of other people’s timings?

I quickly checked the text.

Aunt Mattie: ‘call me’

For the love of god doesn’t this woman know how to read time ?

Aggravated I texted her back: ‘in class’

What did this woman want right now? As in right this very moment?

Deep into Miss Cullen’s lecture about the civil war and reconstruction my phone chirped again. ‘It’s about your dad’ I dismissed it. When was dad not intentionally screwing up his life? And mine

Reluctant as I was. I raised my frail arm out.

“Yes Miss Watts?” Miss Cullen’s asked looking slightly annoyed that I’d interrupted her mid-thought.

I hesitated “May I please go to the bathroom?”

The wrinkles around her eyes relaxed as boredom settled in. she paused and for a second I wondered if she was just going to ignore me or embarrass me in front of the class “you’re all dismissed”

The bells rang; the smirk that settled into that old ladies face was fascinating. Oh congrats ya old bag! Your internal clock is truly, truly an object to ponder over. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I gathered my things and made my way to the bathrooms, I appreciate some humor, and at least she hasn’t lost her spunk. Now back to business, what was so important about dad that couldn’t wait till I got home? I dialed the number and waited patiently. Aunt Mattie answered on the second ring “Hello?... Rivie, I’m so sorry  ... I if I had known, I’m so sorry! “She sobbed through the phone.

“Calm down Aunt Mattie, what’s happened to dad?”

“I think you better come home” she told me, I could hear the grief in her voice.

A million thoughts huddled in my mind at once. An unsettling fog inhabiting every corner of my brain. I headed to the secretary’s office to explain why I would be missing the rest of the days’ classes not that I had any particular excuse. All I know is that dad was in some sort of trouble, again. As he always was. But no one seemed to care about my attendance at this point. So I half ran, half jogged over to my car. Once in; I jammed my keys into the seaweed green 1967 mustang Shelby which was in bad need of tire balancing, I’d have to get dad to sort this out. Although I could easily do it myself at the nearest pump. That comes from years of depending on no one but myself. Not that I’m complaining. Speeding against a few yellow lights and breaking the speed limit by a few miles, I got home in 4 minutes flat.

Aunt Mattie was at the door waiting for me.

“I am so sorry Riva, there was nothing they could do” she began to sob again

“What do you mean Mattie? Explain please… I am so lost!” panic streaked my every syllable. The dreadful feeling I’d felt rolling out of school came over me again like a tsunami wave ready to wipe me out.

She continued to sob and struggle for breath. Oh how I loathed the weak. Losing my patience I shot out

“Matilda tell me what’s happened to my father!” my shouts leading farther than our front porch. Dad was always their during our arguments and his absence left me feeling eery and weary.

“He drove his car off the edge into the river by Burbank’s” she readjusted herself then looked at me and shrugged “He’s dead Rivie” she said sensing I wasn’t comprehending the words she was speaking.