Page 1 of Embers in Our Souls
Tyler
11 YEARS AGO
Numb. That’s the only word to describe how I’m feeling right now. Even sitting in my favorite part of Nevada, I can’t feel the calm I usually find in the natural beauty of this spot. The Memorial Bridge at the Hoover Dam is the place I find to be the most peaceful in the state. Whenever my mind feels overwhelmed, I’m automatically racing to get here. The minute I got my motorcycle license, it was the first place I came.
Today is no different. I finished up at work, excited I had the afternoon off; only to get home and discover it is no longer mine. Everything I hate about my parents simply washed over me as I took in my surroundings.
I’ve always loathed that dingy trailer, but today it took on a whole new meaning. Of course, Sharlene and Ricky were nowhere in sight. They were always cowards, fleeing to the nearest bar to drink away the money they made either at the casino or on alcohol. As if that money was going to burn a hole in their pocket if they saved it for an emergency—or their son. Being a responsible adult is probably one of the hardest concepts for them.
I look down at the crumpled note in my hand, the reminder of the parents I was given at birth. I tamp down the lump inmy throat, feeling the unease as I reread the words my “mother” wrote. I know it was her because of the penmanship, but I have no doubt my “father” shares the same cruel sentiments she decided to impart me with:
Tyler, you’ve been dragging us down for years. You don’t deserve the last name we gave you.
I came home to find this note taped to the door of our trailer, along with a large bag of my belongings sitting outside. They didn’t even have the decency to let me pack my own things. I was kicked out of the only place I’ve called home, when I simply had to survive eight more days there.
Honestly, good riddance to that hellhole and to them. This was the reminder I needed to leave this state and not look back. Once I cross state lines, I’ll never fucking return. It’s been my intention for years to leave, I’ve just been biding my time, saving wherever I can, working at an auto body shop since I’ve been of age. Now with my diploma in my hands and my plan in place, I’ve got nothing keeping me here.
I’m the result of a teen pregnancy—why they kept me I’ll never understand. Living in Las Vegas, where everyone comes to see the shining lights and chase the dream of winning big, I’ve been wishing to run away. Tomorrow, I’m granting my own wish when I start my road-trip toward Fort Benning, Georgia. It’s earlier than expected, but I’m learning nothing in life goes quite as we plan. It will be a long road ahead, but I’m determined to make it.
I look over toward where my bike is parked, hoping she has it in her to make it across all those states to get me where I need to go. I worked hard to get her, saving up the way I did. The guys at the shop helped me find the best deal. She was my biggestpurchase ever. I’ll have to give her up at some point, unless someone takes her in when I go overseas while in the Army.
I see a few visitors passing me, stragglers from the last tour taking photos. The heat from the day sticking around, even though the sun isn’t even as strong as it was when I first got here. Nevada heat hasn’t hit the highest point, but I know in a few short weeks, it will be triple digits.
I bring my ball cap down further, covering my face, hoping to avoid eye contact with the public. I’ve never been known for my winning personality, so this just helps keep people from starting a conversation. I don’t feel like having anyone approach me, my mood worse than usual.
I grab my phone to check the time. Shit, I’ve been here for nearly three hours. I’ve been lost in thought for far too long. The moment I’m stuffing my phone in my back pocket, an older woman walks up to me.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. Do you mind getting a quick photo of us please?” She gives me a wide smile to soften the blow.
I fucking called it. Apparently, my scowl wasn’t enough to give the "fuck off" vibe.
I tamp down the eye roll and groan when I look her way. My irritation is palpable, but from the smile on her face, she must not be very good at sensing social cues. I’m about to grab her phone when a voice calls from behind me.
“Oh, I can take the picture for you. You don’t want to see how bad his pictures come out. It will be out of focus.”
It’s the only voice that soothes my troubled nerves. Indiana Ranton saunters over, her smile radiating our surroundings. She’s the last person I expected to see today, yet the one Nevada resident who shares my great love for this spot, despite being a tourist trap.
As the only girl that has left me speechless on more than one occasion since the day puberty took over my hormones, it’s hard to believe I won’t see her on a daily basis. I’ve known her since kindergarten, but I didn’t really appreciate her beauty until middle school, when looking at a girl did something to me. I came back from summer break in seventh grade, and she made my heart rate accelerate in a way I never could understand. After that, I was a changed person. Not that I ever told her that.
Let’s just say, if people were to look at her, they’d see the sun, while looking at me, they’d see the darkest night. When she walks into a room, she radiates happiness, while I scowl. I’m the leather jacket and motorcycle riding guy at school. I made teachers cringe when they saw me on their student roster. That’s not an exaggeration—teachers told me that on more than one occasion. Indiana was our valedictorian. We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried.
We never ran in the same circles. She was the girl that always did her homework. I was the kid whose dog ate it—although I never had a dog. In other words, Indiana and I were never meant to be friends. Then one day in sophomore year I came up to my spot here at Hoover Dam’s bridge and found good ole Indy sitting here looking up at the sky, listening to music.
We formed a kinship that day; one I never expected. I’d say she never predicted it either. Almost like the dark with the light colliding and what it produced was the most beautiful of sunsets. Our souls felt like they were searching for each other and when we became friends, the world righted itself, at least for me, and I was happier.
I laughed, which was something I didn’t do often. I looked forward to waking up each day, and even going to school didn’t feel like a chore. She made me feel seen, and I loved what we had formed. These secret meetups were something I looked forward to throughout the week.
At first we started finding ourselves meeting here, then we’d plan out our days to see one another. Those became my favorite days actually; myIndy Days, as I called them. She was my favorite person, my treasured pastime. Until her mom discovered her whereabouts—primarily who she was with—and banned her from coming back. Diana Ranton is controlling and difficult, something I always found to be the opposite of her daughter.
That’s the problem when the angelic girl who has never done anything wrong hangs with the bad boy; you can’t combine the two because there’s always a risk of contaminating the good girl. I’m the risk—and I knew it too.
I dreamed of tattoos and motorcycles. I wanted to drink and party, right along with skipping class. I was the villain in this storyline, per Mrs. Ranton, and she’d never allow her princess to be poisoned by the likes of someone as horrible as me. Her parents knew my reputation at school, along with the tumultuous trail my parents had left throughout the years since I was younger. I didn’t fight it when Indy pulled away and stopped showing up to our meeting spot every week. My Indy Days were gone, and so was my sunshine.
By senior year of high school, we’d cut contact completely. She’d give me slight smiles in the hallway, but that was about it. She'd gone back to her old life, as if I'd never existed. She had her boyfriend at school, and I had to focus on getting the hell out of dodge. The only time I saw her give me attention was when I had a girl on my back as I rode off on my motorcycle. I’d spur her on with a sly smile and wink. Indy’s eye roll always gave me the satisfaction I was looking for.
Now, keeping the bill of my hat low, my eyes stay trained on her while she snaps the picture of the family in front of us. The way the sun is hitting her long, rich, auburn-colored hair,I see the hints of caramel, gold, and brown undertones mixed perfectly throughout her strands.
She hands the phone back and says goodbye. I simply jut my chin in the group’s direction, not paying any attention to the tourists or the direction they go. Indy has large sunglasses on, so I can’t see into her eyes right now.
