sliding down my cheeks, I watch as the gray cloud that is my Momma dissipates before my eyes, leaving behind nothing but the beautiful scenery. I imagine them being placed softly on the ground, and I imagine that it makes Momma happy. I hope she’s smiling. She deserves to smile because, sometimes, all darkness needs light.
AFTER WATCHING THE LAST OF the ashes disappear into the wind, we decide to head to grab some food. Having thought about nothing but funeral arrangements and finances, I can’t even remember when I last ate. As soon as that thought hits, my hunger pangs grow exponentially. Chrissy and I ride together, Emerson following behind us. For the longest time we listen to the radio before the music stops abruptly and Chrissy clears her throat.
“You know, you should be nicer to him.”
Looking at her, I swallow the anger I’m suddenly feeling. We’ve just had a memorial for my Momma. I’m not exactly in the mood to talk about some boy. “Why should I?”
“Because he’s obviously crazy about you. Can’t you see that? He showed up to your Momma’s memorial for Christ sake.”
“I didn’t ask him to,” I retort.
“No, you didn’t . . . but only because you’re such a damn chicken. I did it for you, and he showed, therefore, you should be nice!”
I sigh, letting my shoulders slump in defeat. Not wishing to acknowledge the fact that what Chrissy says is true—she’s a nightmare when she’s right—I turn slightly so I’m looking out of the window. The roads are deserted. Not many cars come out this way during this time of day, mainly because it’s too hot and sandy. The skyline is littered with tall buildings; casinos and hotels mostly. It makes me think about Vegas and all it promises. People come here expecting the glamorous lifestyle. They come expecting to find fame or fortune. But the reality is that Vegas is one sick motherfucker because she taunts them with it. She shows them her glitz and glamour, but just when they think they have it all at their fingertips, she snatches it away, leaving them with barren wastelands; drained of all life. Broken. Forgotten.
I wonder if Momma ever realized that Vegas was not what it seemed, or whether she remained blinded by the promise of a life far richer than the one she found herself living.
“Did you hear me, Pres? Be nice. The boy likes you. Any idiot can see that.”
“He doesn’t need me fucking up his life,” I say devoid of all emotion.
“I know you don’t think you have anything to offer anyone.” When my mouth pulls into a tight line she sighs. “I’ve known you all my life, Presley, you can’t fool me. But there comes a time when you have to stop feeling like you’re a piece of shit, because you’re not. You’re a phenomenal human being. I know that, and Emerson obviously sees it too. Let him in. Cut the shit and let life happen. It’s time.”
We don’t say another word to each other. Silence is like a heavy blanket in the car, the only sound coming from the blinker before we turn into the restaurant. The engine has barely finished purring before I jump out, making sure to slam the car door a little too hard, just to let Chrissy know that her advice is unwelcome.
We sit down and chat casually while looking at the menu.
“I’m not feeling so well.” Chrissy stands from the table and with one look at her I know she’s lying. Chrissy gets pale when she doesn’t feel well, but right now her skin is practically glowing with radiance, and I want to kick her for ditching me. “Presley, can you take the bus the rest of the way home?”
I nod.
“I can drive you home,” Emerson offers, still looking at his menu.
“No,” Chrissy and I answer simultaneously. We both know he can’t see where I live. He’d certainly run in the other direction then. Chrissy and I share a few pointed looks before I start lying through my teeth. “I’ve got some errands to run and I like to ride the bus anyway.”
I hate the bus .
AFTER WATCHING THE LAST OF the ashes disappear into the wind, we decide to head to grab some food. Having thought about nothing but funeral arrangements and finances, I can’t even remember when I last ate. As soon as that thought hits, my hunger pangs grow exponentially. Chrissy and I ride together, Emerson following behind us. For the longest time we listen to the radio before the music stops abruptly and Chrissy clears her throat.
“You know, you should be nicer to him.”
Looking at her, I swallow the anger I’m suddenly feeling. We’ve just had a memorial for my Momma. I’m not exactly in the mood to talk about some boy. “Why should I?”
“Because he’s obviously crazy about you. Can’t you see that? He showed up to your Momma’s memorial for Christ sake.”
“I didn’t ask him to,” I retort.
“No, you didn’t . . . but only because you’re such a damn chicken. I did it for you, and he showed, therefore, you should be nice!”
I sigh, letting my shoulders slump in defeat. Not wishing to acknowledge the fact that what Chrissy says is true—she’s a nightmare when she’s right—I turn slightly so I’m looking out of the window. The roads are deserted. Not many cars come out this way during this time of day, mainly because it’s too hot and sandy. The skyline is littered with tall buildings; casinos and hotels mostly. It makes me think about Vegas and all it promises. People come here expecting the glamorous lifestyle. They come expecting to find fame or fortune. But the reality is that Vegas is one sick motherfucker because she taunts them with it. She shows them her glitz and glamour, but just when they think they have it all at their fingertips, she snatches it away, leaving them with barren wastelands; drained of all life. Broken. Forgotten.
I wonder if Momma ever realized that Vegas was not what it seemed, or whether she remained blinded by the promise of a life far richer than the one she found herself living.
“Did you hear me, Pres? Be nice. The boy likes you. Any idiot can see that.”
“He doesn’t need me fucking up his life,” I say devoid of all emotion.
“I know you don’t think you have anything to offer anyone.” When my mouth pulls into a tight line she sighs. “I’ve known you all my life, Presley, you can’t fool me. But there comes a time when you have to stop feeling like you’re a piece of shit, because you’re not. You’re a phenomenal human being. I know that, and Emerson obviously sees it too. Let him in. Cut the shit and let life happen. It’s time.”
We don’t say another word to each other. Silence is like a heavy blanket in the car, the only sound coming from the blinker before we turn into the restaurant. The engine has barely finished purring before I jump out, making sure to slam the car door a little too hard, just to let Chrissy know that her advice is unwelcome.
We sit down and chat casually while looking at the menu.
“I’m not feeling so well.” Chrissy stands from the table and with one look at her I know she’s lying. Chrissy gets pale when she doesn’t feel well, but right now her skin is practically glowing with radiance, and I want to kick her for ditching me. “Presley, can you take the bus the rest of the way home?”
I nod.
“I can drive you home,” Emerson offers, still looking at his menu.
“No,” Chrissy and I answer simultaneously. We both know he can’t see where I live. He’d certainly run in the other direction then. Chrissy and I share a few pointed looks before I start lying through my teeth. “I’ve got some errands to run and I like to ride the bus anyway.”
I hate the bus .
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