Five Seconds After the Flash

Chapter Four

I hated driving. There were times when I could envision those yellow lines flying past me, a car stopping unexpectedly in front of me and slamming into it before everything goes black. It was scary how easily I could envision an ending like that, so sudden and final.

I pulled out of the dorm parking lot and started driving away from campus, toward the interstate. It was pretty quiet that morning. There were a few parents walking around with students, probably never knowing that their darling child had been dancing on tables and doing keg stands the previous night.

The cityscape faded away as I drove toward the interstate and merged on with the other drivers. I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach as it hit me that I was going back to my hometown. There were so many memories that I wanted to stay hidden there, and my one rock was no longer there to make it better for me.

I turned up the 60s radio station as I drove on and on toward Atlanta. I had to drive through the capital city to get to the rolling countryside in west Georgia that I called home.

"Stand By Me," played over the radio, and I sang along to the familiar song, recalling a time when the same song had played over the small countertop radio at home. Grandpa had turned it up and said, "Ah, this is my song for your grandmother." He had started singing, and I remembered stopping and listening to his voice. It may not have been technically perfect, but to my ears it was the most beautiful and comforting sound that I had ever heard.

Each time that I drove through Atlanta, I was in awe as the city opened up and the buildings came into full view. The traffic was always terrible and terrifying, but that initial city view was astounding. The buildings reached up and up to the clouds, stretching away from the earth. Cars buzzed around beside and between them but they stood there, unfazed by the business of the city.

I got through downtown Atlanta quickly and took a deep breath, visibly relaxing my grip on the wheel as the road opened up ahead of me. It was onward to rolling countryside for thirty more minutes, so I sat back and enjoyed the music. The Beach Boys were serenading me, and I turned it up and leaned back against the headrest.

I had not seen my mother since the memorial service. I had been numb that day, and couldn't even remember the hugs that had been dealt out or the number of times I'd had to endure, "I'm so sorry for your loss." By the end of the day I had wanted to run away. The next morning I had begged Ryan to take us back to Augusta to get away from the sad eyes and condolences. Thankfully he had done just that, seeing how much I needed the escape. Always the protector. 

I had thrown myself into my classes for the remainder of the semester, staying in the library and study hall all hours of the night and acing my exams with bloodshot eyes. I hadn't answered when people called from home, except my mother when absolutely necessary. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about the fact that I would never be able to speak with him again.

The interstate exit came up more quickly than I had anticipated, and I turned onto the familiar road that led home. I knew the twists and turns by heart. I knew the old grocery store where I could still go in and run into multiple people who knew me from high school. I passed my sixth grade best friend's house, and memories of long nights talking about boys and music and playing M.A.S.H. danced through my head. Simple days.

My childhood home appeared much too quickly, and I pulled into the driveway cautiously, as though any audible sound could dredge up the past.

It was a simple home. Light blue with white shutters. One story. The backyard was huge, and I had spent many days back there barefoot in my grandmother's garden. I could still remember the way the soft, cool dirt had felt between my toes.