Page 45 of Our Final Encore

“I’ll bring you home by ten, Cinderella. Do you really want me out there in downtown Willow Grove by myself? Or worse, finding another Tinder date? Because you know it’ll happen if you don’t come.”

I chuckle because I know she isn’t bluffing, she will find someone to spend the night with even if it isn’t me. I glance at the time on my laptop screen, it’s almost seven.I guess I can manage to be social for a few hours.

“Fine,” I relent because I know she’ll just keep on if I don’t. “What do you wanna do?”

“We could get drinks,” she suggests in a sing-song tone.

A drink does sound kind of nice, actually. Ever since I heard the news about Alex, my nerves have been on edge. I’ve been avoiding going out even more than usual knowing that he’s here. I’m not sure what I’d do if I ran into him, what kind of whirlwind of emotions that would cause for me.

Willow Grove is a tiny dot on the map, and I run into people I know almost every time I leave the house. At the same time though, should I let him dictate my life even more than he already has? He shouldn’t have any effect on me anymore. Plus, he might be gone by now anyway. There’s really no way for me to know, and I can’t be a hermit forever, relegating myself to either my workplace or my house 24/7.

“Alright. Come pick me up, I’ll start getting ready.”

We disconnect the call and I close my laptop, feeling a sudden pang of remorse for not spending the rest of my night writing like I had originally planned to do. Between taking care of Mamaw and working, there isn’t much time left for writing, especially if I want to keep a half-ass social life.

Sighing and attempting to ward off the negative thoughts, I grab my favorite flowy skirt and a light blue crop top that compliments my eyes. I’m thoroughly uninterested in impressing anyone, but sometimes I still like to feel good about myself. Or at least try to. I swipe some mascara over my lashes and pop my favorite pair of hoop earrings in.

When Maisie texts me that she’s here, I grab my leather crossbody bag and sling it over my shoulder, stuffing my keys and phone into it on the way out of my room.

The sounds of an old Western film filter through the speakers of the tv in our living room, and the familiar smell of powdery fabric softener hits my nostrils. “I’m going out for a couple hours, Mamaw. Text me if you need anything.”

“I don’t need nothin’, darlin’. You go and have fun, you’re too young to spend your Friday night at home. You just let me know if you’re not coming home tonight.” Her thick Texas accent never fails to make me feel warm inside. It reminds me of the better parts of my childhood.

“I’ll be home in two hours tops.” I kiss her on the cheek before walking out the door, locking it behind me. Thick, muggy air envelops me as soon as I step outside.

Loud pop punk music blares from the speakers of Maisie’s car when I open the door and slip inside.

“Hey bestie,” she smiles at me sweetly.

As we drive by the open field across from my house, still vacant except for the wildflowers that are beginning to bloom, I’m bombarded by memories of laying in that same patch of grass, listening to Alex strum his guitar.

It’s weird. About two years after he left, I had finally gotten used to being alone. The pain was still there, but it was dull, and our memories together had become fuzzier. Almost like my brain had tricked itself into believing that what we had was never real. Like it was all just a dream I’d had one afternoon, andit was slowly fading away the way all dreams do after we wake up.

After seeing his photo, it’s like the wound was gashed open once again. That empty field now reminds me of the empty hole left behind in my heart.

It isn’t fair that I have to stare our memories in the face all the time. Constantly reminded of the good and the bad by every crack in the sidewalk or random street sign. No wonder it was easier for him to move on, he never had to be reminded of my existence when he was out there doing whatever it is musicians do.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, trying my best to keep my brain from wandering too deeply into memories of Alex.

“I was thinking we could go to Hondo’s.”

Hondo’s is the little dive bar downtown, it’s really the only place to get drinks unless you want to drive to the city.

“That’s fine. Was Sophia mad that you left her with Nana tonight?”

She rolls her eyes. “She hates it so much when I go out, but Mom got her popsicles. Once she had one of those in her hand she seemed to forget why she was mad.”

“I’m sure.” A giggle escapes me when I picture how cute her face is when she’s grumpy. She’s not related to me by blood, but I’ll always claim that little girl as my niece.

Sometimes I think about the fact that Maisie had big plans of going to university and joining a sorority after high school. Of course, those hopes were dashed when she realized she was pregnant. I can’t help but wonder if she has regrets, I know being a single mother can’t be easy.

Sometimes I wonder the same thing about my own mom, having to put her dreams on the backburner for a while because she had me so young.

Maisie parallel parks her car on Main Street, it only takes her five tries to get it straight in the parking spot. She holds her looped arm out towards me once we make our way to the cobblestone sidewalk. “Let’s go. We have exactly two hours before I have to bring you home, I’m not wasting it.”

We settleinto a booth in the corner of the bar, a neon beer sign above us illuminates the wooden table in a pink glow. The place is full of drunk laughter, and loud nineties country music plays from a jukebox somewhere.

Maisie orders us both raspberry margaritas, and after drinking only half of it I’m already tipsy. My blood feels warm in my veins and my lips are tipped up into a lazy smile. I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks, and I’m suddenly thankful that she convinced me to come out with her.

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