Chapter Text
The cicadas seemed louder than usual in the silence that swallowed Winnie up after she turned the ignition off in her old Camry. They carried the smell of summer with them, with the heat heavy and hazy on the highway from Colorado Springs. The rickety porch swing carried its creaking over the wind to her cracked car window. Even though the heat of summer hadn’t swallowed up her fathers house just yet this morning, the idea of sitting in her car for too much longer made the sweat prickle on the back of her neck uncomfortably.
Just as she pulled the door open and nabbed her purse from the passenger seat, her father opened the screen door with a long, drawn out whine of springs.
“Winifred!”
He was waving like they were miles away from each other.
“Hey Dad,” she smiled, making her way up the front walk to give him a hug.
“God, it’s good to have you back here. Was the drive okay? Did you hit too much traffic?”
Stepping back into her childhood home, flooded with warm sunlight and the smell of grass, was a kick to the gut. After her mother died, she had fled to the bigger city, ready to forget all about small town comforts. Now, here she was again, trying to escape a different life in a City that had swallowed her up and spit her out.
“Thankfully nothing too bad. Slow down on 24 on the way out, but after that, smooth sailing.”
He smiled a toothy grin, rubbing his hand over the sparse graying hair he still had clinging to his head.
“Glad to hear it. I tried my best to get your bedroom cleaned up - I’d been using it as extra storage. But I think I have pretty much everything out in the shed these days.”
“Oh, no worries, I can sleep among boxes if I need to,” she answered, smiling at him as she adjusted the purse strap over her shoulder. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”
“Letting you stay here? Sweetheart, you’re always welcome here - this is your home. As long as I’m breathin’, this home is your home. Please remember that,” he answered, concern knitting his eyebrows together. He kept a large hand on her shoulder and despite the fact that Winnie still felt a bit unsteady standing in the house she hadn’t visited since her mother haunted the halls, the warmth and his words were welcome.
“Fair enough,” she answered, letting out a short, humorless laugh. “I just want you to know that I don’t intend to overstay my welcome.”
“Well, I don’t know how you’ll rightly do that, considering you’re always welcome,” her Dad said, plodding his way into the kitchen. “You remember where your room is, right?”
She laughed, “Don’t think I could forget.”
Without another word, she bound up the stairs, finding everything much as she remembered eight years ago, when 24 felt like an adulthood she could barely remember now. Her door stuck fast as she tried to push it open, the hinges screaming in its attempt to open more than a couple of inches for her to squeeze through.
Her bedroom was as she remembered it - blue walls and green duvet cover, somewhat squash pillows that had contoured to the unmistakable imprint of her Dad’s head. Her throat felt thick seeing it, imagining the nights her Dad had spent pressing his face into his daughter's pillows, looking for a hint of her in her absence. She pulled her eyes away from the sight, looking at the ghosts of where her photos used to hang on the walls.
“Hey, Dad?” Winnie asked, coming back down the stairs.
“Yeah, hon?” he called from the couch in the living room.
“I think I’m going to run out to the hardware store. Get a gallon or two of new paint and maybe some WD-40 for the hinges. Did you know they’re practically locked closed?”
“Oh shoot, that’s what I had meant to do before you were here. Do you want me to go with you?”
“Nah, I’m okay, I think I got it. Not a little kid anymore!” she answered, brushing past him to give him a kiss on his head as she left.
“You’ll always be my kid, no matter how old you get!” he shouted after her, and she smiled without thinking about it, pulling her keys from her purse.
>><<>><<
The hardware store was relatively quiet on this Friday afternoon, a handful of people milling about, pulling lumber and evaluating the merits of plumbing fixtures.
Winnie pulled two gallons of basic white paint from the shelves and placed them in her cart, perusing the aisles until she found the lubricant she was looking for. As reliable as her father had the capacity to be, it wasn’t unusual for Winnie to have to replace basic household items for him. She had spent too many hours trying to squeeze overly dried SuperGlue out of a hardened bottle, and she couldn’t count how often she went to find nails to affix a picture, only to open his toolbox and find it looked more like a box of “Oops! All Screws.”
The clerk looked young - maybe someone Winnie used to babysit back in the day - but she was thankful that they made no move to recognize her. She wasn’t quite up to explaining why she was back home to small-town gossip just yet.
The parking lot had the same hazy, sunburnt look to it that the highway out here had, trapping her in memories she’d rather not retain. Beyond her sunburnt reverie, there was a slight screech of tires and Winnie looked up to see the bumper of a large red truck mere inches away from her hip.
She turned incredulously and saw, through the truck's sideview mirror, a flash of eyes, dark hair streaked through with gray, a slightly downturned mouth.
“Seriously? Do you use your mirrors or just think they’re flashy attachments? Jesus Christ,” she swore, loudly, hurrying out of the path of his bumper. She looked back once to see his reverse lights pull out of the spot, a little slower this time, and mozy down the aisle.
“What an idiot,” she mumbled to herself, climbing into her car, still packed full of all her items. She took a moment to stare in her rearview mirror at the cardboard boxes stacked high. She spent eight years away, and still, her entire life fit neatly into the backseat of her car. Her chest caught on a ragged breath and she pulled her eyes away, pressing her hands to the hot leather of her steering wheel, begging it to burn.
After a quiet moment she took a deep breath and turned the ignition in her car, peeling out of the parking lot. On the ride home she focused on the open wind whipping through her window, the sound of static crackling through her radio. Her dad was out back grilling when she made her way through the front door and she gave a quick wave through the back porch windows to indicate that she was home.
A quick WD-40 to the hinges and they swung easy after a couple of pulls and pushes.
“Looks like I can finally do something right,” she mused to herself, staring up at the hinge and the doorframe.
In a brief moment she saw his smile, the way his eyes flashed when he laughed at something she said. She remembered the warmth of his hands on her, of the way he kissed her, the way he fixed her door the first night he stayed over while she drank wine, wrapped in bedsheets -
Winnie shook the image from her mind, her heart racing so fast she felt light headed.
“Hey sweetheart? Dinner’s ready!”
Thank goodness for her father and his perfect timing.
“You know, I haven’t really had red meat since I’ve been away?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she bound down the stairs.
Her father gave her a look like she had three heads.
“No red meat? Not even burgers?” he asked, setting out the two filet mignon’s to rest for a moment while he pulled some potatoes out of the oven.
“Well, burgers every once in a while. That’s the extent of it,” She answered, pulling a somewhat wilted head of lettuce out of the refrigerator and pulling the more sad leaves off of the base, attempting to cobble together some kind of salad.
“No wonder you look so skinny. I gotta work to put more meat on your bones!” he added incredulously.
Winnie looked down at herself and scoffed.
“If you think this is skinny dad, I’d hate to see what you’d think about me if I lost 30 pounds.”
“You don’t need to lose a damn pound, Winnie, I don’t want to hear that,” he answered as he plated their food at the dinner table.
“I’m just saying,” she answered, coming over to the table with her haphazard salad. “But I’d lie if I said I didn’t miss your home cooking.”
“That’s my girl,” he smiled wide at her.
The smell of charcoal, the smell of grilled steak, the cicadas tapering off into the din of crickets in the backyard, all while Winnie sat there and joked with her dad like not a moment had passed since the last time she was home. It was easy to pretend Colorado Springs looming just over the horizon was just that - just looming. The city held no lost things, the skyline didn’t remind her of everything she had gotten used to and fallen in love with. Here, she could pretend her mother was just outside, putzing around her garden and pulling weeds as the heat of the day evaporated from the asphalt and black mulch. She could pretend that the kids she used to babysit down the street were still little, still screaming from the back of training wheel bicycles and Razor scooters. She could pretend that she still had dreams about what her life could be - that hope hadn’t fizzled out from behind her eyes when she chose to let a brief moment of temper and exhaustion dictate how her legacy would be remembered.
Maybe she just needed a moment for the small town calm to permeate her bones. Maybe she just needed time home.
>><<>><<
The house was quiet when she woke up the next day, late morning by her estimation and by the way the sun slid through the slats of her blinds. She had spent most of the night painting her baby blue walls white, plastering over the holes she had bored in at one time or another, trying to make her teenage bedroom work for adult her now.
She rubbed her eyes, still surrounded by the smell of paint fumes and pushed through her open bedroom door to make it downstairs. Coffee was still sitting hot in the pot - a little bit burnt as she took a swig, but nothing that some extra cream and sugar couldn’t mostly cover. She peered bleary eyed into the backyard, scanning for the shining cap of her father’s balding head. She could hear his voice echoing from somewhere, light hearted and jovial. She followed the sound of it to the front porch where the screen door made the lawn outside graph paper.
It slapped back against its frame as she stepped out, coffee in hand. Her dad was down at the edge of the fence that bordered the driveway, talking to someone she couldn’t quite make out amongst the foliage of the trees.
Her dad caught sight of her before she could duck down into the porch swing.
“Hey, Winnie! C’mere, I wanna introduce you to the new neighbor, Joel! He just moved next door last year.”
She sighed, putting her coffee down on the porch railing and made her way down the front walk, arms crossed in front of her. If she had known she’d be meeting strangers, she would have put on a bra first.
And maybe washed her face.
As the neighbor came into view, the smile Winnie had plastered on her face began to falter. Parked up on the curb was that same red truck from yesterday, the one that had almost run her over in the hardware store parking lot. And standing against the fence was the man she caught through his sideview mirror - a flash of dark eyes, gray streaks through his hair, and a set downturn to his mouth. She could already feel Joel’s eyes upon her as she approached, and up close she could see how solid he was under his worn work shirt, could see the lines around his eyes that spoke to years squinting in the sun.
Her father gestured: “Joel, this is my daughter, Winnie. Winnie, Joel Miller.”
Joel nodded once, dipping his head in acknowledgement. His voice carried a molasses-thick drawl when he said, “Pleasure.”
Winnie let her smile falter, just slightly, letting her eyebrows tug up into her hairline.
“We’ve met already. Sort of. In the hardware store parking lot yesterday.”
Joel’s mouth tugged up into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Met’s a strong word. Pretty sure you yelled at me for usin’ my mirrors.”
“You nearly backed me over,” Winnie bit back. “Maybe you should actually try using them.”
Her father blinked in confusion, looking between the two of them. “You two had a run-in?”
Joel didn’t look away from her as he shrugged, answering her father in a tone just a touch too nonchalant for her tastes. “Could call it that. Don’t worry though, Jack. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your girl when I’m behind the wheel.
The way he said it - your girl - sent something prickling underneath Winnie’s skin. She had a moment where she considered saying something biting in return to his smug remark, giving him a tongue lashing she wasn’t afraid to hold back in any other circumstance. But her father’s confused look and the good natured humor between the two made her bite her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Her dad didn’t need an excuse to isolate himself further.
With a tight smile all she said in response was: “Appreciated.”
Joel tipped his chin up in a way that felt like a challenge. “Good. Then we’re square.”
Her dad chuckled, giving Joel a good clap on the shoulder, oblivious to the taut line that had been drawn between his neighbor and his daughter. Winnie just kept her tight smile, fingers tapping a solid rhythm against her side, refusing to break eye contact first.
Her father took that moment to wipe his brow and extend his invitation for dinner, the same way he always did when he could rope someone new into his old stories and grilling prowess.
“Hell, this is perfect timing. Joel, why don’t you come on by for dinner? Nothing fancy, just pork chops on the grill and a few beers.”
Joel glanced at him and then back at Winnie. His eyes betrayed nothing, like there was a wall up behind them to keep other people out, but his mouth twitched as if the idea amused him. “Don’t wanna intrude.”
“No such thing as intruding!” he insisted. “It’s the neighborly thing to do. Plus, I need someone who appreciates my grilling more than she does.” He nodded at Winnie.
“I appreciate it,” Winnie answered dryly. “I just don’t worship it.”
“Sounds like you and I might agree upon something,” Joel answered, eyes continuing to cut her up.
Her father laughed, still oblivious to the bristling that traveled, almost potently, from his daughter to his neighbor. “That settles it then. Seven o’clock. We’ll see you then.”
Joel gave a small nod. “Yessir. I’ll bring a six pack.”
Her father smiled, satisfied with his answer, and started back to the house, already mumbling about marinades and alcohol, leaving Winnie and Joel alone at the fence line.
Without her fathers endless stream of thoughts, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the buzz of cicadas in the trees high above their heads. A fly droned noisily past but she didn’t blink and neither did he.
“You sure you're up for seeing me twice in one day?” he asked, adjusting the cuff on his shirt.
“I think I’ll manage,” she answered, turning slightly back to the house, walking backwards at a slow pace to keep her eyes on him. “Make sure to check your mirrors as you’re pulling out..”
That almost smile again, the ghost of it tugging at his lips. “Can’t make any promises.”
She rolled her eyes and raised one hand in farewell as she made her way back to the porch, grabbing her cooling coffee from the railing. Behind her, she swore she heard him let out the faintest chuckle, rough and low, before the screen door snapped shut between them.