way unless they have a reason to. Finally I see my exit and flip my signal on.
“Is this it?” She asks, sitting up.
“No, I just thought I’d get off the highway for no good reason.”
She frowns as I pull off the highway and turn right at the intersection. I roll my window down and take a breath. The air is familiar here, filled with dust and the smell of the mesquite tree. I’m so used to the processed air on campus and the smell of old beer from the football house that I almost forgot what it’s like to be out here. But it isn’t long before the old feelings come rushing back.
“Ever been out here?” I ask her, breaking the silence. She’s looking out the windows completely mystified.
“No,” she replies.
“This is where I grew up,” I tell her. This surprises her. I’m sure she figured I was from the suburbs or some rich part of the city. I’ve been private about my life before coming to Houston, so not many people know this about me. “Little Red Rock, Texas. Population six thousand.”
“Wow, I thought—” Emmy starts to say, but stops herself. I glance over at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But she doesn’t.
I turn down Blue Hill Lane, a dirt road, and pass all the familiar sights. Mr. Brooks’ overgrown lot, the bridge over the Red Rock brook where kids fish in the morning before the heat gets to be too much, and finally the bump over the railroad tracks.
Then it’s a right turn and I’m parking the car in front of a small, one-story ranch. The place has seen its fair share of years. The driveway was smooth at one point, but now the tan cement is nothing but cracks filled with grass. The lawn is spotty, more dirt than anything, and the gardens are withered and brown.
“This is where I grew up,” I say softly as I turn to her. “Surprised?”
Emmy frowns. Is he kidding? That’s what she’s thinking right now. She’s waiting for me to continue, but I don’t say anything. I just let the place sink in. Her eyes scan the property, noticing every detail. She’s observant. All her assumptions about me are being shattered. In her head, she’s writing a new backstory for me now.
I push open the driver’s side door and step out into the heat. It’s easily over a hundred degrees today, and there’s no shade to be had. After a minute, Emmy follows.
“Pops left when I was seven,” I say without looking at her. “It was just mom and me after that.”
“She didn’t remarry?”
“Didn’t marry at all,” I chuckle.
“Do you know where your dad is?”
“Tennessee maybe,” I say. “Maybe. Ran off with some trailer trash chick who called herself Daisy.”
Daisy was a real piece of work. Habitual liar, jealous, temperamental, manipulative. But dad wasn’t the most well-tuned engine on the lot, and he fell for her anyway. She had the looks, and as my mom got older he decided to trade in for a younger model.
Scumbag .
I don’t think of him if I can help it. It just gets me too fired up. I take a deep breath of the hot Texas air and turn around to see Emmy standing a few feet behind me.
“So you took me to meet your mom?” She asks me.
“Whoa, not so fast,” I say, forcing a laugh. “We’re not getting married yet.”
Emmy fake grimaces.
“She’s not home anyway. She’s down at St. Mary’s.”
The smile vanishes from Emmy’s face. She may not know Red Rock, but everyone knows St. Mary’s, a hospital with a state of the art Oncology department.
“Leukemia,” I say. Those words used to almost bring me to tears, but I’ve managed to push those feelings down deep enough to keep things together. “I’ve never told anybody. Figured it was no one’s business but mine. But I thought you should know. I think you have the wrong impression of me.”
“Walker…I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. That’s why I need to make it to the league so badly. Money. Benefits. Better care for her.”
I can see this is all
“Is this it?” She asks, sitting up.
“No, I just thought I’d get off the highway for no good reason.”
She frowns as I pull off the highway and turn right at the intersection. I roll my window down and take a breath. The air is familiar here, filled with dust and the smell of the mesquite tree. I’m so used to the processed air on campus and the smell of old beer from the football house that I almost forgot what it’s like to be out here. But it isn’t long before the old feelings come rushing back.
“Ever been out here?” I ask her, breaking the silence. She’s looking out the windows completely mystified.
“No,” she replies.
“This is where I grew up,” I tell her. This surprises her. I’m sure she figured I was from the suburbs or some rich part of the city. I’ve been private about my life before coming to Houston, so not many people know this about me. “Little Red Rock, Texas. Population six thousand.”
“Wow, I thought—” Emmy starts to say, but stops herself. I glance over at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But she doesn’t.
I turn down Blue Hill Lane, a dirt road, and pass all the familiar sights. Mr. Brooks’ overgrown lot, the bridge over the Red Rock brook where kids fish in the morning before the heat gets to be too much, and finally the bump over the railroad tracks.
Then it’s a right turn and I’m parking the car in front of a small, one-story ranch. The place has seen its fair share of years. The driveway was smooth at one point, but now the tan cement is nothing but cracks filled with grass. The lawn is spotty, more dirt than anything, and the gardens are withered and brown.
“This is where I grew up,” I say softly as I turn to her. “Surprised?”
Emmy frowns. Is he kidding? That’s what she’s thinking right now. She’s waiting for me to continue, but I don’t say anything. I just let the place sink in. Her eyes scan the property, noticing every detail. She’s observant. All her assumptions about me are being shattered. In her head, she’s writing a new backstory for me now.
I push open the driver’s side door and step out into the heat. It’s easily over a hundred degrees today, and there’s no shade to be had. After a minute, Emmy follows.
“Pops left when I was seven,” I say without looking at her. “It was just mom and me after that.”
“She didn’t remarry?”
“Didn’t marry at all,” I chuckle.
“Do you know where your dad is?”
“Tennessee maybe,” I say. “Maybe. Ran off with some trailer trash chick who called herself Daisy.”
Daisy was a real piece of work. Habitual liar, jealous, temperamental, manipulative. But dad wasn’t the most well-tuned engine on the lot, and he fell for her anyway. She had the looks, and as my mom got older he decided to trade in for a younger model.
Scumbag .
I don’t think of him if I can help it. It just gets me too fired up. I take a deep breath of the hot Texas air and turn around to see Emmy standing a few feet behind me.
“So you took me to meet your mom?” She asks me.
“Whoa, not so fast,” I say, forcing a laugh. “We’re not getting married yet.”
Emmy fake grimaces.
“She’s not home anyway. She’s down at St. Mary’s.”
The smile vanishes from Emmy’s face. She may not know Red Rock, but everyone knows St. Mary’s, a hospital with a state of the art Oncology department.
“Leukemia,” I say. Those words used to almost bring me to tears, but I’ve managed to push those feelings down deep enough to keep things together. “I’ve never told anybody. Figured it was no one’s business but mine. But I thought you should know. I think you have the wrong impression of me.”
“Walker…I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. That’s why I need to make it to the league so badly. Money. Benefits. Better care for her.”
I can see this is all
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