Hooligans

Before the flight to Georgia I was supposed to stop by my parents’ house to say goodbye to everyone. I didn’t bother to show up or even call to let them know I wouldn’t be there. I didn’t answer the many calls that both my parents and Michael made to me either. I shut my phone off after about the sixth call that went unanswered. I even left the house before any of them could come here.

I knew they were worried I wouldn’t catch the flight, considering I didn’t much care for them to ship me off to Georgia. I would have ditched the flight too if there was any point in doing that; they would only force me onto the next flight there, kicking and screaming if they had to.

I sat at the airport for nearly three hours, actually turning my phone on to keep me busy. When I’d left home I drove straight to the airport, hoping they wouldn’t be able to find me.

The flight, miraculously not delayed, was in the air by four o’clock. The plane ride from California to Georgia took four and a half hours and the drive from Atlanta to the place I was born, Habersham, would take an hour and a half. If things went without a hitch I would be there a little after ten at night. I decided I would go to sleep early to escape the fact that I was forced to stay somewhere I didn’t want to be for just another night.



At the airport I wasn’t certain of where to go. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I ever met Betty. I wasn’t sure of what to expect her to look like.

For ten minutes I looked like an idiot standing in the middle of the airport looking around for someone I didn’t even know. I was almost ready to give up and sit down when I finally spotted a stick thin woman holding a sign with my name scrawled across it. “You must be Betty,” I greeted, glumly approaching the woman.

“That’d be me.” Her lips spread into a wide grin. I looked her up and down, assessing her appearance. She was at least half a foot shorter than me with curled blonde hair reaching her shoulders. Her wardrobe consisted of a T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. She seemed like a nice woman, but I wasn’t thrilled with being away from the beauty of California. “You must be Tyler. You haven’t been waiting long, have you dear?”

“I’ve been searching for nearly ten minutes,” I grumbled, voice quiet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Betty apologized. She grabbed hold of one of my suitcases from me and began to roll it to her double doors of the airport. Her car wasn’t far for which I was thankful. The night made the early November air chilly against my bare arms.
It wasn’t of much surprise to me that the woman owned a mud covered, black truck. It almost seemed that you needed to own a truck around here as a rite of passage. She helped me sling my luggage into the bed of the truck and I hoped that for the hour and a half we’d be driving it wouldn’t rain.

“Your mom has called me a few times since this afternoon,” she stated, igniting the engine of the truck. “She’s worried, Tyler. Says you haven’t returned anyone’s calls all day.” Out of my peripheral view I saw her give me a sidelong glance.

She probably expected some sort of response, I realized when silence ensued. I shrugged my shoulders indifferently before folding my arms defensively over my chest. “I’m here aren’t I? She was probably just worried I’d skip out on my flight, but I followed through on their plan. They can stop worrying now.” Without a second thought I crossed my legs and kicked my boots up to rest on the dashboard.

“She told me no one has been able to reach you at all today. You weren’t even at home when they checked your house for you…” her voice trailed off, probably realizing that she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with this conversation, and focused her full attention to the road.

Mentally, I commended myself for the decision to leave home and therefore escape their visit. I would feel some remorse for avoiding them had I a choice in flying across the country, then again if I had a choice I wouldn’t have to avoid them.

I let my gaze wonder out the window, noticing how scarce the lighting was. Most of the light was provided by the dim glow of the moon or the headlights of this filthy truck. It was much different than being in the city, surrounded by lights at every turn it seemed.

For much of the ride there was only the occasional noise of the blinker signaling. I sure didn’t make any attempts at starting a conversation. Betty probably sensed my hostility and thought better of making any small talk.

At exactly ten she pulled the truck down a long dirt driveway to a house. Even in the small dim glow of the headlights I could make out a few of the house’s features. First of all, I noticed that the house was small, but, not that I’d admit it to anyone, the beauty made up for the house’s size. The exterior gave off the appearance that it was an old log cabin, all but the chimney, which was built up of stones placed together like a puzzle. Other than that there was not much of it I could tell in the dark. Around the house was nearly pitch black, which I’m guessing was surrounded by trees.

Betty assisted me in dragging my luggage up a few stairs that led onto a wooden porch fenced in by some sort of wooden railing. Betty then pushed open a door and flicked on a light.

I surveyed the foyer, which was mostly empty, before I stepped into what I assumed to be the living room. A dark, leather, burgundy couch, covered in fur throw blankets stuck out to me first. It was placed in the center of the room, aimed at a flat screen TV. A glass coffee table cluttered with magazines was the median between the TV and couch and it was place over a fur rug. They really liked fur around here didn’t they? The room as a whole gave off a dark country vice, only enhanced at the stone fireplace in the corner of the room.

“I’ll show you to your room if you’d like,” Betty said from behind me.

“Yeah. Whatever.” I lugged my suitcase behind me.

She led me up the wooden flight of stairs and down the hallway. She didn’t stop until we reached the last door on the right. “If you need anything my bedroom is the first one on the right. The bathroom is the first door on the left.” It amazed me that she could still be so nice even after how rude I’d been to her. Not that it mattered. I didn’t care to be here and I intended to let her know it.

I nodded my head in acknowledgement as she exited the room that was mine for my indefinite stay. I looked around the room, taking it in. This, much like the living room, gave off that dark country vibe. The queen sized bed with a dark mahogany frame was in the center of the room, pushed up against the wall. Matching nightstands were on each side of the bed. Across from the bed there was a mahogany entertainment center housing yet another TV and a collection of DVDs. A fireplace was next to the closet double doors, only this time it was electric.

I set my suitcase in front of the closet doors in no mood to unpack right this instant. I unlocked my phone, the wallpaper of my dog Chanel and I popping up in front of me. I didn’t want to leave her, but Michael assured me that he would take care of her. The digital clock on my phone informed me that it was nearly eleven at night.

I stripped to my boxers and snuggled into the bed, which I have to admit was pretty damn comfortable with its piles of pillows and blankets. I raised up for a second to pull down the chain on the ceiling fan/light fixture. It left me in pitch black darkness.

I spent an hour in the dark, playing on my phone while ignoring any calls, texts, or Twitter messages when they got especially desperate. I didn’t see why they were so worried about me or why they felt the need to send me here in the first place. I wasn’t too bad or so I thought.

Finally I locked my phone. Sleep took me over almost immediately. I was thankfully for the sleep, because it meant I wouldn’t have to dwell on the fact that I didn’t want to be here.