Maybe Memories

"I'll be back home as soon as I can." I promised my husband, Jesse, as we stood at my terminal at the air port.

"Selling a house takes some time, you let me know if you want me to fly out. I can take a little time off work you know." He offered, giving me a hug.

I hadn't traveled on my own since I moved to New York, where I'd met Jesse at an art gallery. I wasn't very fond of taking trips on my own, but since the passing of my mother, I had to go back to Georgia to take care of her house and belongings. It would be a tiresome, emotional trip, especially since I swore I'd never go back to Georgia as long as I lived, but there I was; catching my plane back home.

"I'll let you know." I smiled, picking up my bags as my flight was announced for boarding.

He kissed my lips, and I hardly let him stay, as I backed up and smiled like always. We weren't the most passionate couple ever, but it was something I'd grown very used to. "I love you." I said, flat and plain, like every other day.

"You too Angela." Angela. That was my New York name. My real name was Evangeline, and back in Georgia they called me "Ellie." But Ellie was dead, as far as I was concerned. Angela was who I became, and it was who I would remain. I never wanted to go back to my old life, and taking on that new nickname helped me forget about my roots.

I smiled and parted ways with him, leaving him at the air port to board the plane. I honestly just wanted to stay in that plane forever, I didn't want to land in Georgia, I didn't want to sell my mother's house, and I definitely didn't want to plan her funeral. I didn't want a family reunion, nor the greetings of all of the people in the small town that had known me before I'd moved. But going back to New York meant going back to my repetitive, boring, every day life. I couldn't win.

I slept most of the way to Atlanta, and only woke up long enough to watch the plane land. I got out of my plane and gathered my luggage, and head out to the car I'd rented for my stay. I got in and started driving sulking the whole way there. My stomach was in knots and I felt like I'd have an anxiety attack. As I came into town, I started to notice how almost nothing had changed in the 8 years I'd been gone. The same old buildings covered in moss and vines lined the main road, the same houses and parks all sat right where I'd remembered them, and even the bike rack I used to park my bike at in front of the ice cream shop still stood. It was like the whole town had paused when I left, and hadn't resumed until I came back.

It was getting dark and the streets were covered in leaves. The wind blew them over themselves, making a slight scraping sound against the pavement. I could hear it from inside the car, along with the wind picking up. It was getting dark out as I pulled up to the house, my heart sank when I saw it. It was just the same, like everything else had been, but it already felt empty. I already felt empty, just looking at it, knowing she wasn't there.

I carried my luggage inside, using the key that was left for me under the potted plant on the porch. When I walked in, I shut the door behind me and stood there in disbelief. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that my mother was gone, it hadn't even hit me until that moment, walking in, knowing she wouldn't be there. I had a lot of feelings of regret and sadness. I hadn't seen her since I moved away when I was 17. I'd gone to live with my dad, but never came back to see her again. Sure I'd talked with her on the phone every few days, sometimes we even video chatted, but it wasn't the same. I should have come back.

I took my bags to my old room, not ready to see my mother's. Upon walking in, my heart broke all over again. She had a bed in there still, my bed. My old posters still hung on the walls, my clothes still neatly put away in my dresser and hung in the closet. Of course, the clothes belonged to a much younger me, but they were still mine. She'd barely touched the room since I'd left, I could only imagine the pain I put her through, leaving like that. A few terrible events made me leave at such a young age, and she understood that I couldn't be there anymore, but it must have killed her, letting her only child leave.

I changed into my pajamas and laid in bed. It was still early, and I shouldn't have slept, knowing I would ruin my already broken sleep schedule, but I didn't know what else to do. I felt tired and sick, but not the kind of sick you feel when you have a cold, this was the sick you feel during a hangover, when you're dizzy and upset and you can't seem to do anything to fix the problem. I cried as I drifted off to sleep, profusely sending silent apologies to my departed mom, wishing I had only come back sooner.

When morning came, I went down the stairs and looked in the fridge, realizing the food in there was actually fresh. She even had left overs in the freezer, but I couldn't imagine eating my mother's home cooked meals. Not yet. The realization that she'd bought this food for herself, not expecting the heart attack that would ensue, just made me feel weak. I felt like I had just missed her, and in a way, I had. I didn't realize exactly how hard this was going to be until then. I hadn't known how to cope with loss, I'd never lost anyone like this, and even though I hadn't seen her in so long, I felt a huge empty space in my heart where she belonged.

I showered and dressed, deciding going out to breakfast would be better. As soon as I was ready for the day, I head out, taking my rental car to the old diner I remembered liking as a kid. I walked in and sat down, going over the menu. The waitress took my order after a while and left me with my thoughts. I looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone I recognized. A few of the older people I seemed to remember, Bill, who I remembered frequenting the dine way back when, Tammy, the sweet lady who ran a bake shop down the street, and even Steve, the old man that only left the bar when it was closed. I tried not to make eye contact, not ready for anyone to notice me, although I sure didn't look like a Georgia girl anymore, I was sure I stuck out like a sore thumb.

After about 20 minutes I got my food and settled down. I was excited for the almost home cooked meal. Meals in New York and meals in Georgia weren't the same. Sure, you could get a lot of the same items, but something about southern cooking was just unbeatable, and something I'd forgotten I missed. I drank the coffee the waitress brought, letting its warmth soothe me and bring me into a calm.

Just then, I heard a familiar voice, one I hadn't heard in ages. "Hey Tammy, how ya doin'?" That sweet, soft spoken voice belonged to Maggie, my old best friend.

I waited until she was done talking with Tammy before approaching her. "Hey, Maggie?"

She turned to me and smiled, not recognizing me at first. "Can I help you?" She asked, and I saw it the second a curiosity and suspicion arised in her. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Evangeline." I would have normally called myself Angela, but no one there knew me by that name.

"Oh my god! Ellie? What are ya doin' back?" She smiled excitedly and gave me a hug.

"Here on business, kind of." I shrugged, not really wanting to bring it up.

"Oh, yeah I heard 'bout your Momma. I'm sorry to hear it." She sighed, looking sad for a moment. "How have you been?"

"Good. Got settled down, married a lawyer." I laughed, knowing that wasn't really something people around here did. Very few of us ever even got out. "How about you? How have you been?"

"I've been alright." Her bright smile returned as she started talking about her boyfriend. "I've been see'in this guy a while. Name's Glenn. He's from Atlanta, real sweetheart. I'll have to have ya over for supper to meet him."

"Sure, I'd love that." I wrote my number down on a napkin and handed it to her.

"I'll call ya." She smiled and waved her goodbye as I left the restaurant.

I went out to my car and decided I couldn't spend the whole day sitting in that empty house, so I drove to the town square and parked, thinking a walk around to some of the shops would be beneficial. A smile spread across my face as I passed that old ice cream shop I used to love, kids were lined up inside, ordering and eating their frozen treats with their neighborhood friends. I passed the pawn shop and stopped at its window, something urging me to go in.

As I came into the shop, that familiar, antique smell came over me, making me sneeze. "Bless ya dear." A kind, older man's voice came from the back of the store.

"Thanks." I nodded as I walked to the back, looking in the jewelry case.

"Anythin' I can help with?" He asked, giving me a warm smile.

"No, just looking. Thank you." I answered, making him leave me to my wandering around. I wasn't sure what it was that made me come in, honestly I'd probably only stepped foot in the place once or twice in my life. I started to think a lot about my childhood, but was ripped from my thoughts as an angry, husky voice boomed from by the counter.

"The hell ya mean? Bought the damn thing for an arm an' a leg! That ain't even half a what I got it for!" I peered over and saw a familiar, but older looking, face. He was someone that a lot of people in town either feared or hated, or both. He was quite a bit older than me, but I knew him well enough. He shook his head and pulled the shot gun back from the counter that he must have been trying to sell. "Damn cheap ass."

I stepped up to him, afraid to say anything, especially since he seemed like he hadn't changed much since last we met. "Merle?"

He looked over at me, looking confused for a moment, before that familiar, predatory grin appeared on his face. "Well, well, well! If it ain't blondie!" He set the gun down and crossed his arms, assessing me. "Ya changed quite a bit since last I saw ya."

"New York will do that to you." I shrugged, suddenly wondering why on earth I thought striking up a conversation with Merle Dixon was a good idea in the first place.

"The Big Apple huh?" He laughed, though I couldn't tell if he was being condescending or if he was just amused. "Let me guess, got yer'self a big fancy house, husband makes bank on an honest livin'?"

"Something like that, I guess." I hadn't heard it put that way, and I didn't like it, but he was right. My lawyer husband had me living in a beautiful house in a rich city, I was spoiled, and people in this town didn't end up like that. It was just unheard of. "How have you been?"

"Just as I always been. Runnin' this damn place!" He meant he ran the city. When I was young, I'd heard of him getting into trouble in the drug world, more so pushing and selling than using, but anymore, he looked like he'd done his share of using too.

"Staying out of trouble?" I let out a chuckle to let him know it was a joke. Merle was a hothead, the littlest thing would set him off.

"O' course, I ain't stupid." He winked, making my skin crawl a little.

"How'd Daryl doing? He still around?" I didn't want to think about Daryl, the memories hurt in a way. We were good friends before I moved, and honestly I had the biggest crush on him, at the time I thought I was in love with him. I felt terrible leaving him, especially knowing how his father neglected him and hit Merle. It was awful, and the abuse was only getting worse and stretching to Daryl more and more as Merle kept getting into trouble and wasn't around much to protect his brother anymore. My timing was awful, and a part of me knew Daryl was mad at me for leaving, but I had to. Staying meant suffering for me, staying meant.. Well that's a story for later.

Merle shrugged and sighed. "Ole Darlina, huh? Forgot you two was buddies. Yeah, he's stayin' with me. Boy couldn't make it without me, probably die or somethin'." A scoff came from him, but a part of me didn't believe that. I knew Daryl back then, and he although he wasn't much of a talker, he was a fighter if he had to be. He was strong willed and fearless in ways I knew I'd never be, but I couldn't imagine him being the same as he was back then. "What ya doin' back here anyways?"

"My mom passed away, I'm here for a while to get her affairs in order." It was still weird saying out loud, I hadn't been able to wrap my head around it yet.

"Damn girl. Sorry 'bout that. Well I'll tell my brother ya said 'hi' then." It was an oddly nice gesture, for him anyway, but panic struck and for some reason I didn't want him knowing I was in town.

"No, that's okay. I'm sure I'll see him around." I lied, not wanting to make it seem like a big deal. Just the thought of him knowing I was back, or seeing me, made me feel sick. I had so much guilt about leaving, and I never thought I would have to face it. A part of me wanted to avoid him at all costs, but another part desperately wanted to see him, see how he was doing, see the man he'd turned into. Last I saw him he was a thin, almost lanky boy, just out of high school. He was about 5 years older than me, but he wasn't much for school. I remembered that he'd gotten held back a few times, I remembered how he'd been made fun of for it. But it had always made me upset back then, because I knew he was a smart person, he was brilliant in ways that a book could never teach you, but no one ever saw it.

"Whatever ya say. Anyways, I got business to tend to. See ya blondie." He strolled out of the store, leaving me in a bit of an emotional war. It was so strange, seeing a Dixon again. It felt like home in a way, but it wasn't the same, not without Daryl being my friend. And he was upset when I left, for all I knew he hated me.

I went on about my day, unable to rid myself of that odd feeling I had, that mix of fear, guilt, and suddenly being homesick. I hadn't realized how much I hadn't missed this town and the people and my old life, but it also brought back terrible memories, and my heart was unsure of its place anymore. I wished I could go back home to New York and continue pretending this part of my life never happened, pretending that I wasn't still thinking about my high school crush or my old friends, pretending like I hadn't been forced to leave because of a night out and a dark secret..