Tethered

Four || Unsaid

{A Little Home - Rascal Flatts}

...Sometimes you just need a little home, a little let you know you're not alone, to carry in your heart, and keep your spirit strong, sometimes you just need a little home...

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     The sun beats down over the frontier stores as Scarlett walks me to the mayor's office, grocery bags in hand. My skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat from the heat in its relentless constancy. In the late afternoon sun, I would much rather be in a pool or sunbathing with some kind of ice-cold drink beside me. All I see are the dust roads and frontier stores, with their nearly broken fans blowing small slivers of air into the windless heat of this summer day. 

     Scarlett jabbers on in her fast-paced southern drawl while I listen, updating me on how she has been working in the superstore for the past few months until she can make enough money to head to college. I can see she's exhausted as she recounts the long hours spent working, but I feel nothing but pride for how hard she works. Still, it's hard to get much of a word in when she speaks at a million miles an hour. She always did talk the most out of the two of us. Her words curl and snap in their delicious tone, like sweet sherbet with a sudden sour twist. 

  "I need to be back in about a half an hour, or my manager will have my guts up on the meat racks," she laughs as she looks back at the large store we have just walked from. 

  "How far is it to the Mayor's office?" I ask, sweltering in the heat. 

  "It's not far, just down this road," she replies, stopping intermittently to look at the trinkets on display in each of the frontier stores, her eyes focusing on them as she continues to talk. "Do you remember we used to come here all the time?"

  "And we'd run around the fountain," I nod over to the large marble fountain in the middle of the square. "And Mr Lieberman would let us pet his dog for hours!"

  "Mitzy," Scarlett smiles. "She's still kicking', y'know."

  "Really?" Mitzy must have been a fully grown dog all those years ago. Amazingly, she's still alive, a memory remains, unchanged. 

  "My Momma took her in when Mr Lieberman passed away last year," she tells me. "Mitzy's doing great."

  "And how's your Mom?" I ask, memories of Scarlett's mother flashing into my mind. 

     Scarlett's mother, Deena, worked all her life as a waitress. She and my Uncle were childhood friends and was the Maid of Honour at My Aunt and Uncle's wedding. I remember her long fingers playing the piano whenever she came over to the ranch, like the sight of the keys beckoned her near. Her face is like a distant familiar memory in my mind. Still, looking at Scarlett, it's easier to remember her. 

  "She's alright," Scarlett replies quickly, taking a quick inhale as she moves away from the trinkets on the rack, her eyes focusing down the road. "C'mon, the Mayor's office ain't that far."

     Something about the way her back straightened when I asked about her Mom makes me feel like I pressed a tender spot. Worry begins to settle within my stomach, but then again, I know I'm usually one to 'make something out of nothing'. No, stop saying that. 

     I don't mention anything else to do with her Mom again, instead laughing and joking with her about our childhood antics as we walk all the way down the road, passing Uncle Deacon's empty truck, to a set of french doors opened wide as it faces the path we have just walked down, to the Mayor's Office.