Chapter 3

three

Lily

Later That Night

My stomach is rumbling and there's not much time before I know the roads will turn into mostly fields and scattered farms for miles. The opportunity to eat and delay my arrival is highly appealing, so I pull off the highway at a 24-hour diner. Gosh I've missed these. Scooping up Pete, we walk over to the front door together where a uniformed woman who has likely been here for the last forty years glares at me.

"Do you have pet friendly seating?" I pray the hostess will say yes.

"Back patio, can you walk around though? Health codes don't allow non-service dogs here," she mutters, not bothering to glance at his bright red harness vest with Emotional Service Animal patches embroidered on it.

I don't argue and walk around. Pete may have patches as a service dog, but the influencer I got him from purchased them before she even had him.

A perk of being on the go is that I regularly meet and work with amazing women-owned brands in the wellness space. Unfortunately, it also means that sometimes I work with women like Raven. The influencer who booked a trip for a bunch of us and got a purebred Shiba Inu from Japan for content and then promptly dismissed him on the tarmac at LAX when he was more attached to me at the end of the trip. Probably helps that I kept sneaking him the sushi I didn't like under the table.

Meeting the hostess out back, I watch the commotion of food service and notice how it moves like a dance. A waiter brings me water, one glass and one bowl, before giving me a heads up that he'll be right back. Opening the large laminated menu, it's tall and thin, the pages reflecting light from the sun dipping overhead. When he gets back over to the section, I grab the waiter's attention.

"Disco fries, please? When you have a moment. And any chance you can grill up a burger for the dog? Just the burger patty, nothing else needed for him." I ask full of hope that the greasy fries smothered in gravy and melted cheese will be a balm on my nerves. Or at least cause me to remember something happier about my home state.

The man jots down my request using fast strokes of a clicky pen, before dropping both in his apron pocket. Winking, he promises to let me know if he can't get the food for Pete. After a few minutes he returns with my fries, emanating steam, and a small plate with a single burger patty on it.

"That going to be it tonight, miss?" He's now leaned over the back of an extra chair.

"Probably not, but I can't decide. Can I just hold onto this for now?" I ask, glancing at the menu still open to breakfast foods.

"This is America, you can have anything you want," he cajoles and I laugh reflexively. This is nice, a little bit of a fun uncle vibe. After the waiter departs, I start to imagine what people at the other tables are discussing. There's a pair of high schoolers who are probably on a date. I overhear them discussing the start of senior year, college applications, and how this is going to be the best year ever with his brand new car. The conversation continues after plates are cleared, and my suspicion is confirmed as they begin holding hands across the table while making intense eye contact. They remind me so much of who I was the last time I was home; young and in love. Excited about the future I was dreaming up together with my ex-husband Grant Morgan.

Part of me wants to run over and warn her to not turn out like me. That would be too impulsive and outgoing, even for me. I continue to hold the conversation in my head, what would I do if I was meeting me at that age? They always warn you in time loop movies not to mess with the future, but I think I would say something to my younger self. Run girl, you are in danger. Also, start wearing sunscreen immediately, your face will change. If I did that, would I even have listened?

I like to hope so, but the reality is I am only who I am today because Grant cheated during the first year of our marriage.

"Oh Petey, what am I going to do? It's been a decade. These people don't know me anymore. I don't think they ever did. I mean, the girls are going to be excited to see me at the party. But… they will complain too. They will argue that I'm here now and that it's all ancient history so I should just come back." As I talk to Pete, the server returns.

"Sorry, did you ask me to come back?" he asks, a bit unsure if he heard me right.

"Thanks, I think I'll just take the check." The words barely leave my mouth before the black leather like folio is dropped on the table. I toss in twice as much cash as the bill for keeping it when they could have turned the table faster. I watched at least two rounds of seatings as I picked over the fries until they were too cold and soggy to enjoy anymore. Standing up and stretching my arms skyward, I lean back feeling my spine lengthen and my shoulders drop away from my ears. On an exhale I try to push more of the tension from my sore muscles. We're close enough to a nearby park that I take Pete for a short stroll to put off returning to the car.

We meander for a bit, always keeping the car in my line of sight, even if it's just a tiny teal speck. Pete finds the perfect little patch of grass and does his scratch-and-spin move that tells me that he's ready to do his business. The soft shade of blue sky with sporadic big white fluffy clouds flying overhead is picture perfect. I'm setting up to take a few selfies whenever he's finished when I notice in the camera the rolling gray-blue clouds headed our way. In late summer that can only mean one thing: there's an early evening thunderstorm headed in to cool off the day.

I want to rush us back towards the car and avoid the weather but of course this is the moment Pete decides to live up to the boyish mischief his breed and namesake are loved for. Playing like he's going to pounce at me, he crouches low giving a stubborn smile and tail wagging. I ask, command, cajole, yank the leash. If I move towards him to scoop his twenty-five pounds into my arms, he scoots away. I guess Pete wants to delay things too, I just was hoping to do it without being soaked to the bone.

I can already see a few drips of rain nearby with more starting to fall in thick sheets not too far ahead. Thankfully the loud thunderclap scares him into my arms, and I haul ass carrying him back to the car.

"Yes, inside in the nick of time," I announce to him as though he understands me. The sheets of rain obscure my vision that I'm not sure I can safely get back on the road. Thanks, Mother Nature, for the additional delay.

After checking my social apps and doom-scrolling TikTok, I'm anxiously chatting at my dog for lack of a better plan right now.

"Pete, I know I played a part. I made shit choices. I was the chaos, from eighteen to twenty." Exhaling, I watch his head tilt as though he's skeptical of my timeframe.

"Eight. Twenty eight. Fine. I am chaos. But so are you," I tease while scratching between his ears. He pants, his tongue hanging out of his lopsided grin, and I see so much unabashed love in his little eyes.

Pete licks a long line up my face, his telltale sign of anxiety. We're twin statues of fear, rising as the summer thunderstorm swells. The bleak gray clouds and water streaks mirror how I feel: Foggy. Filtered. Inauthentic.

"I don't want to go back to Peacock Springs, Pete. But… I want to go support Stef like she supported me. Like she supports me now. It's the right thing to do. Even if there's many reasons not to go, going is also the right thing to do." I bounce back and forth between my thoughts of loyalty to Stef and my desire to stay away from my parents and ex-husband throughout the storm. Finally the storm inside my mind and outside the windshield are settling down. The bl inking lights on the dashboard digital clock alert me to how late in the evening it's gotten, if I don't do the last hour of this drive I am truly going to end up sleeping in the car tonight. The rain has passed enough to allow for clear passage, and signaling my blinker I merge onto the road and continue southwest.