Page 37 of In the Dust

11

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, now the weather has gone to shit. I check the app on my phone to see if I have enough time to make it home before the bottom falls out. It’ll be close. I should’ve just let grandpa take me home, but I needed a minute to myself. I need to catch my breath.

Maybe I should call dad.

Almost on cue, my phone starts buzzing.

“Hey, Dad.” Well, this is convenient.

“Dix, there’s a large storm heading straight for us. They’re calling for thirty-five mile per hour winds. I need you to come home and make sure everything is buttoned up outside …” He pauses, and I think I know what's coming next. “Starting with the studio.”

The studio.

Her studio.

My mother’s studio that I haven’t been in since that night.

The thought makes a dull pain sink in my chest. “Will you come get me?”

“Where are you?” he asks while rustling with something in the background.

“Almost halfway. I’m walking the wood line.” I wait for him to start questioning me, but he doesn’t. Thankfully.

“On my way,” he declares before hanging up.

At least I know I can count on one man in my life. Two, counting grandpa.

I continue walking, kicking the small rocks, pretending they’re Colton’s face. I guess this is what I get for letting him in.

I knew better.

* * *

I trudgethrough the front door; the winds are howling outside. “What are we starting with first?” Don’t say the shed, don’t say the shed, please don’t say the shed.

“I’ve gotta head back to the station.” Dad frowns.

My eyes trail to the window, a rolling cloud barreling this way. “You’ve already been there for two days.” I sigh.

He shrugs. We both know what his job entails. Sometimes it asks for a little too much, though. “They’ve got us in overtime. I’ll make sure to rest, but they need me there for the storm.”

“I need you too sometimes,” I say with a sad smile.

He pauses for a moment, torn. We both know how much he means to the town. He can retire in a few years, and I don’t know what he’s going to do then. He loves his job; he loves helping people. “I know, kiddo. I’ll be back before you know it. Why don’t you call Colt, have him come stay with you?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again.”

His shoulders shake from laughter. “I’ve heard that before.”

“This time, I mean it,” I reply, walking up the steps.

“I’ll check the house before I go. Your grandpa should be home soon, but I don’t want him out during the storm. The wind will knock his old ass over.” He laughs.

After quickly changing into a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt, I slide my rain boots on and head out to the garden. My dark outfit matches my mood. I may be acting overly dramatic, but I don't care.

There’s a small rustic shed that sits adjacent to the garden, next to a small hill. It's a private little haven my mom could escape to. A place where she could paint unbothered, with a beautiful view of the garden.

I’ve always loved the look of the weathered wood and the plentiful windows around her little she-shed. There used to be potted flowers that lined the front side of the studio. Purples, blues, pinks, reds and so on.

---