The Mother Road (37 page)

“You know Urban Outfitters?” I ask, a crinkle in my nose.

Bernie laughs. “I did my research. I have confidence in your brand and I know it will go places. You just have to have faith. That’s why I started thinking of other ways to spend my time on this farm. Other ways to get people engaged. You’re not going to stay here very long, Porter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? Once your soap takes off, you will probably have to move to be closer to product development. You’re not going to live on the farm forever, son. I need to find new ways to spend my time here. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I won’t move, Bernie. You need me.”

Bernie pats me on the shoulder and smiles. “I love you, Porter, but you’re not the only hired help out here. If you don’t leave when your soap gets picked up by the Pederson Group, then I will kick you out.”

“But…”

Bernie stops me before I can finish. “Let me ask you something. Does my daughter mean something to you?”

Sweat starts to form on my upper lip from the stare-down Bernie is giving me. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question, Porter.” Bernie takes a sip of his root beer. “Does my daughter mean anything to you?”

It’s actually not a simple question, but I’m not about to dive into details with Bernie. “Well, I’ve known her for most of my life, of course she means something to me.”

“Not a good answer. This past road trip, were you intending on breaking her heart?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my leg bouncing and my nerves completely shot.

“Yesterday morning, before she left, I held her in my arms while she cried. She didn’t say why she was crying or why she was so upset, but from the look in her eyes yesterday, I could tell it had to stem from you. When you three were young, Gloria and I used to watch you play from the porch. We would sip our root beers together and talk about what the future held for you when your hormones started to engage. Gloria always told me she saw something between you two, but I never saw it. It wasn’t until Marley’s senior year in high school that I noticed a change in the way you interacted with her. You just weren’t protective, you were possessive. And when I thought something was going to finally form between you two, Marley left for college, without looking back.”

So much for being incognito.

“Was there something between you two back then?”

I clear my throat and stare down at my plate, not able to look Bernie in the eyes. “Not really. I mean, there might have been, but I didn’t let it happen. Not because I didn’t want it to, but because I didn’t want to hold her back. If I told her how I felt, she would have given up her internship and stayed. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“So, you made the sacrifice, hurting her, but also protecting her.” I just nod my head. “That’s admirable. So, what happened this time?”

This is such an awkward conversation to have, but Bernie has determination and I know he won’t quit until he receives all the details.

“I lost control. I gave into my feelings, and before I could stop myself, it went too far.”

“Too far?” Bernie raises an eyebrow at me and I swallow hard.

“Um, we don’t need to go into details.”

Silence falls between us and I don’t know if I should start running or shove the rest of my hot dog down my throat so I’ll stop talking.

Finally, Bernie glances up at me, a serious look in his eyes. “Do you love her, Porter?”

Growing up, I quickly learned that no matter the repercussions, you never straight up lie to Bernie McMann, ever. He’s a good man…if you’re honest with him, he’s less likely to kill you. So, I strap on my balls and lay it all out on the table.

“Madly.” I rub my hand over my face. “I love her so fucking much it hurts to not have her around, to see her leave without saying goodbye to me, to know that I probably screwed up my one chance at finding my true soulmate; it’s slowly killing me.”

Bernie nods his head. “That’s what I thought.” From his shirt pocket, he pulls out an envelope and places it in front of me. My heart seizes in my chest when I see the familiar handwriting of the woman who used to take care of me as if I were her own. I glance up at Bernie, who is gripping my forearm. “Mama McMann knew you two were meant for each other. Before she passed, she made me promise to give you this letter when you finally realized Marley was the one for you. Read it, and when you’re done, I want to know what your plan is for getting my daughter back.”

With that, Bernie grabs his root beer and plate and takes off toward the living room, where he flips on the TV and starts watching sports recaps.

I stare down at the letter, no longer hungry for my lunch, wondering what is written beneath the cream sealed envelope.

From the living room, Bernie calls out, “It’s not going to read itself, boy.”

Needing some privacy, I pick up the letter, shove it in my back pocket, and take my half eaten plate to the kitchen where I set it on the island. Knowing Bernie, he will probably finish it off for me.

As I walk outside, I hear the screen door shut behind me and I survey the farm, the land I grew up on, the home where I fell in love with Marley. I can see her little gangly body, chasing us around the fence, trying to keep up, I can see her training her pigs for best in show, and I can see her brushing the mane of her horse, Snickers.

Everywhere I look on this farm, I see Marley. Escaping her is impossible when this is the place where I learned to love her.

Instead of going back to my shack to read the note, I walk to the old tire swing that’s hanging from a giant oak tree that we named Oakey. Don’t judge; we weren’t very creative back then. I lean against Oakey’s trunk after I pull the letter out of my back pocket. I sit down and twirl it in my hand, a little too nervous to read it. If Paul was here, I would have him read it with me, but he’s off on his honeymoon with Savannah, much help that is to me.

The front of the envelope says Porter on it in Mama McMann’s perfect script. She was so particular with her pens back then, there were only certain ones she wanted to use. I can tell from the lettering that she used the same pen even for a letter for me.

Curious, but terrified, I open the letter and unfold a matching cream piece of paper. I rub my beard when I see what’s inside.

I read the first sentence out loud. “To my dearest Porter.”

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean my head back, remembering the gentle way Mama McMann used to hug me whenever I came over, the way she would light up when she would see me playing with Paul, and the way she would treat me just like her other two children.

When I fell down and scraped my knee, she was the first one to bandage it up, and when I needed advice on how to deal with my dad, she would sit with me, under this tree, and help me understand what it meant to make good decisions and bad decisions. When I didn’t have any clean clothes, she would have me bring mine over to the house so she could wash mine for me, and when I didn’t have a lunch to take with me to school because my dad was too wasted to realize I was hungry, Mama McMann would slip a ten dollar bill in my pocket to last me the week.

This woman saved me day in and day out when she was alive, and even now that she’s no longer on this earth to kiss me on the forehead, she’s still trying to save me through her words.

Wanting to read what she says, I take a deep breath and look down at the paper.

To my dearest Porter,

If you’re reading this letter, two things have happened, I didn’t make it through my chemo treatments and you’ve finally realized you and Marley are meant to be together.

Before we get into Marley, I want to talk about my chemo treatments. First of all, I want to thank you for standing by Paul and Marley’s side as I grew sick over the last couple of months. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend for them. Secondly, I want to tell you how much I love you for visiting me when I was too sick to get out of bed, for bringing me soup and water when I needed it, and for reading me books when they weren’t what you would have necessarily read yourself. Even though I wasn’t able to win the battle, I still am so happy I was able to spend those last precious moments with you.

From the first day you came over to our farm to introduce yourself, I fell instantly in love with your brown scruffy hair, knobby knees, and dimpled smile. It just so happened to be that you were Paul’s age and became instant best friends. You helped a shy farm boy turn into an outgoing, confident, albeit drama queen, man. I’m sad I won’t be able to see your friendship continue through the years, but I know it will stay constant in your lives because of the bond you built when you were so young.

Then there is Marley. At first, she was a tag-a-long who annoyed you boys to no end. I spent many an afternoon talking to you and Paul about being nice to Marley and including her in your adventures. Remember when I used to bribe you with cookies? To this day, I have no shame from doing so because it was precious to see you three play together.

As the years rolled by, I noticed a shift in your relationship. You were more welcoming to Marley than Paul. You thought it was okay for her to hang around, to play, to be included in your grand adventures across the farm. I don’t think you knew it at the time, but I did, I saw it in your eyes. Marley wasn’t just Paul’s sister to you, she was your match. The person you’re supposed to spend your life with.

I’ve always thought you two belonged together, there’s been no doubt in my mind…you just had to realize it yourself. Now that you’re reading this letter, I hope you have.

So, what are you going to do about it?

If there is one lesson I can teach you in this life, it’s to seize the day and not wait, wondering what could have been. Porter, my son, life is short, embrace what you have now, react to your feelings even if it means putting your heart on the line, because if you don’t, you will always wonder what life might have been if you took a chance.

Be with my baby girl, make her happy, and bring her the kind of love I know comes around once in a lifetime. I had it with my Bernie. Share the same kind of unyielding love with my Marley.

I love you, Porter. I’m watching over you, kissing those scraped knees and ruffling that messy hair of yours.

Love you always,

Mama McMann

Tears stream down my face, the letter heavy in my hand as I set it down and look out at the farm. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

****

There is a knock at my front door, but I don’t even bother to answer it because I know who it is and I know he will let himself in.

After I read Mama McMann’s letter, I stuffed it away in my sock drawer, finished up my work day, and then got lost in some of Paul’s favorite brew, thanks to the left-overs from his wedding. Dinner isn’t a concern of mine tonight; all I care about is trying to get drunk enough to not have to think about making any sort of decision about my future.

“It’s not polite to let people wait outside for you,” Bernie says, walking into my place with a plate of food. He sneers when he sees the empty bottles of booze on my coffee table and my butt on the floor, playing with the old braided rug Mama McMann made when I was younger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I look at my beer bottle and then hold it up for him to see. “Drinkin’. What about you?”

“Not acceptable.” Bernie puts down the plate of food, grabs me by the back of the collar, and lifts me off the ground. I don’t fight him because you never fight Bernie. Instead, I allow him to drag me to the kitchen sink, where he douses my head in cold water. “I will not have you wasting your life away like your father did. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I answer, in between blasts of water to the face.

Bernie lets go of my shirt and shoves a dish towel at me. He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest, standing tall and a little scary, I’m not going to lie.

“What were you trying to do? How is drinking alcohol going to help the problem you have now?”

Why do I feel like I’m twelve all over again when Bernie caught me and Paul sharing a beer out in the barn? Probably one of the scariest moments of my life. We didn’t drink again until we turned twenty-one. Bernie has the ability, with one eyebrow tilt, to put the fear of God in you. It’s terrifying.

“I was hoping to forget,” I answer honestly.

“Forget? Do you believe alcohol has some magical power that washes away everything you want to forget? Newsflash, dumbass, you might forget until you pass out, but the next morning, you will wake up with your head hammering out of your ass and the memory of your problem looming over you. The only way to fix a problem is to face it head on. So, tell me, what’s so terrible that you feel like you have to get lost in the devil’s drink?”

Funny he calls it that when he partook in some Satan sips at the wedding.

“My problem? Well, I’m in love with your daughter, the kind of love that consumes you to the point of not being able to function, um, she hates me, and we live three thousand miles apart.”

“I only see one problem in that sentence. You live three thousand miles apart, but that’s solvable with a plane ticket.”

“It’s not that easy.” I pace back and forth. “She won’t talk to me; she didn’t even say goodbye to me when she left. She wants nothing to do with me, Bernie. I know it’s my fault, because I pushed her away…I needed to push her away.”

“Because you were scared?”

My head shoots up at him to see a grin on his face. “I’m not scared.”

“Yes, you are. You say you wanted to save her from staying here, but in reality, you’re saving yourself from moving past your safety net. The only time you’ve spent away from this farm was when you were helping Thomas four years ago, but even that was short-lived after Marley moved out. You came back and lived on this farm, helping out, never really exploring outside of the little radius you were familiar with. You’re scared of failure. The only reason you put your soap out there for people to judge is because I practically made you.” Bernie holds my shoulder and speaks to me in a sincere tone. “I get it, Porter. Your dad wasted your family’s money on chasing his dreams, and when they didn’t pan out, he wound up drinking his worries away. You want safe, you want to be comfortable. That’s no surprise. But life isn’t worth living if you never put your heart on the line, if you don’t try new things. Pain can be short-lived, ‘could have beens’ will live with you forever. Don’t live your life in a bowl full of regrets, Porter, because you’re scared of the unknown.”