Dylan Stafford

“All right man. Go over there and get it all figured out. Maybe she still loves your sorry ass,” Jeff said as he climbed into his car to head back to Dallas.

Brady was getting ready to drive over to Michelle’s, his first face-to-face talk with her since she’d broken up with him.

“Yeah thanks for nothing amigo,” Brady said. “Seriously, thanks for coming up last night and talking, and hanging out with Mom and Dad this morning.”

“What? A chance to listen to ‘The Johnson Family tries to get Brady back on the straight and narrow’? Wouldn’t miss it. And you know I love your mom’s cooking: next time, Peanut Butter Breakfast Burritos a la Joyce. Can’t wait.”

“Idiot.” Brady reached in the window to try to swat Jeff’s head.

Jeff adroitly leaned out of reach. “Fucker,” he replied, smiling.

Brady stood back and the gravel crunched as Jeff pulled away, the gate swinging open to let him exit.

The Texas countryside fell silent as Jeff’s car faded away. He took a breath. Alright Brady, he said to himself, let’s go meet Michelle and see what’s going on.

He was tired and his head still pulsed from the night before. Also, he was excited. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. She called him, after all.

He climbed up into his Jeep, found his beat up cassette, ZZ Top’s Greatest Hits, and plugged it in. La Grange was mid-song and he rewound to the start. The familiar riffs kicked in and he gunned the engine, popping the clutch and slinging gravel toward the Burr Oaks.

His Jeep bounced over the cattle guard and he swerved right, tires squealing. Nothing beats a Jeep, he laughed to himself, as the whole Jeep swayed. After a month in the shop his Jeep seemed as good as new. Maybe he was too.

* * * * * * * * * * *

It was a 20 minute country drive, from his family’s home to Michelle’s. She too lived outside the city limits, but on the opposite side of Denison. His cassette had time to play to the end and auto-reverse; ZZ Top songs aren’t that long.

Jesus just left Chicago was playing as he approached. He turned down the music, braked, and entered another big Texas spread, with another gravel driveway. A cattle pond, what Texans like to call a tank, reflected the afternoon sun. Before Michelle’s dad had gotten sick, he’d loved being out at his tank. He had a fishing dock and a floating house for his pet ducks.

Brady remembered a lot of visits here, birthdays and Christmases. He’d always assumed this place was going to be part of his future.

He parked the Jeep where it wouldn’t block anyone and got out. He heard the slam as the front screen closed.

His ex-future-fiancé walked towards him. Michelle was a pretty woman, with long brown hair and green eyes. She’d run cross-country in high school and still loved to jog. She had the strong stride of a person who liked exercise.

Brady’s nose itched as he walked toward her, and he blinked his eyes. His emotions were swirling. Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him was aroused. He took a slow, deep breath, pushing that all away and getting his game face.

They stopped in front of each other, awkwardly.

Brady waited, not sure what to do.

He spread his arms, offering a hug and leaning forward. Instinctively, he puckered, but Michelle turned her face out and placed her cheek on his chest, avoiding the kiss but accepting the hug.

“It’s good to see you,” she said.

“You too,” he said, holding the hug. The smell of her hair filled the space and he lowered his head. His cheek touched the top of her head, long enough for half a breath.

She pulled back, grasping his elbows and looking up at him. “Thank you for coming.”

Are her eyes moist? Brady wondered, hoped, as she looked up at him. But before he could tell for sure, she had turned and was walking towards the house.

“Come on,” she said. “Dad can’t wait to see you.”

He followed her, the smell of her hair still fresh on his cheek, her calves strong and tan. She was beautiful and she’d almost been his forever. He felt regret and hope, in equal doses.