2.0 The Chronicles of Us - Shame & Blame

Chapter fifteen

•★ Tex ★•

Fifteen fucking hours.

I already knew it was gonna take this long when I got on my bike, but still. Had to make some stops too. Either to smoke my nerves away or hydrate. The fact that I'm pretty tired—in more ways than one—didn't help either. Anyway, I made it to the town close to Odessa.

Home, bittersweet home.

For the first time in years, I'm back. Nothing has changed. Time didn't affect this town whatsoever. Mr. Mackey still owns the garage, Donna's Deli still has the same Wednesday special, and crazy Babette still occupies a spot in front of the corner store to ramble about the oncoming apocalypse.

Same shit, different year.

After driving through the center of town, I turn into the dusty road that leads to my old home. The country view would be nice if it wasn't polluted by faraway oil rigs. I have a hard time focusing on it, though. My gut wrenches with every quarter mile I cover. Did I pass the old oak tree with the yellow ribbons already?

Fuck, there it is.

The house I grew up in. The wooden panels are still painted white but are now weathered. The garden is still full of flowers, but weeds are growing between them. I remember my mother pulling them out. She wore a lavender sundress. A smile stretched across her face when she saw me coming home from school.

No one waiting for me now. Although, Bob the neighbor is mowing his lawn. When I park my bike on the curb, he stops and eyes me suspiciously, like he's gonna the call the cops on me. I probably look like a trouble maker in my leather motorcycle gear.

I remove my helmet and nod at him. The confusion on his face makes place for a smile of recognition. Despite all the shit I pulled when I still lived here, Bob was always nice. Even when I smashed his mailbox in a drunken rage.

He walks up to the border between the gardens. "Anthony? I can barely believe it's you. You're all grown up."

Kinda strange to be called by my real name. Like I'm back in time and my mom could just walk down the driveway with gardening tools in her hands.

She won't.

"Hey, Bob." I meet him at a patch of orange desert flowers. "Yeah, I suppose time does that. Is my father home?"

"He went to the hardware store." Bob nods south. "He'll be back soon."

"Thanks." I do this odd half-wave and walk up to the front door. Should I go inside? Still have the house key. Might be weird without my father being here. Then again, I don't feel like waiting outside under the scorching Texas sun.

Fuck it.

I get inside and breathe in the smell of nostalgia. It's comforting in a heartbreaking way. The framed photos on the wall are the only thing left of the happy family that no longer is. These younger versions of us had no idea of how fucked up everything would get. Still, the proof of happier times is in these images.

I exhale deeply. Okay, I'm handling this better than expected. Maybe seeing my old room will bring back some nice memories. Is all my stuff still there? When I put my foot on the first step of the staircase and look up, flashbacks of my dead mother hit me right in the gut.

Nope, can't do this.

Bad fucking idea.

I can barely breathe when my mind takes me back to that dreadful day. I remember it so vividly, like it was only yesterday when she died. Her limp body and blue face. Fucking hell. I shouldn't have come. There's nothing but ghosts here.