Holt or Bust
Tressa
Age 18
“Tress! Make sure you have everything, I don’t want to drive back here!” Georgie shouts across the driveway.
“Calm your tits!” I shout back.
The visual of her trying to close my tailgate with her hip power alone makes me giggle. Georgie Tucker is my best friend; she’s a tiny little blondie but she thinks she is She-Ra Princess of Power. Today, well, tomorrow is finally her eighteenth birthday. We’ve been waiting a long time for this day, we’re getting tattoos at midnight!
We just have to finish moving my things out of my mama’s house. She passed away and staying here alone is just too sad. I’m eighteen now so I’m supposed to just figure this shit out. I’m doing my best.
The way I figure it, I go to school in Holt already, so now I’m going to live there too. Holt was the obvious choice when I was deciding where I should live, not only is there a big free house waiting for me there, but it’s where Georgie lives.
Today she volunteered to help me move because we love each other like that. I think we secretly know we’re not fully truthful with each other about every little feeling we have, but it’s okay all the same. I know everything important. We have the best time together and she has my back, always. Everyone’s trauma is unique to them and I can understand deciding what to share. Lord knows I do my fair share of secret-keeping.
Even with all that noise we know that if shit ever really hits the fan we’d have each other’s back until the end. We’ve been through some of the same things, but somehow I know her situation is a bit worse than mine.
Even though we do our best to support each other, we’re good at getting into trouble too. Life’s not perfect but we’re laughing most of the time and that’s good enough for me.
“Alright, I think that’s it!” I yell as I lock up the door of the home I shared with Mama for the last time.
The realtor said I’m supposed to leave my keys in a lock box, so even if I forget something, there’s no coming back. After shaking off the tears that try to escape my eyes, I know I need a distraction to avoid a flash flood.
“Bluebell,” I call for my dog.
Moments later she comes tearing butt out of the woods with a huge stick in her mouth. She looks so goofy, that it’s impossible not to smile.
“Whatcha doing girlfriend? That won’t fit in the truck!” Georgie laughs as Bluebell struggles to carry the log she has held tight in her jaw.
“Baby Blue,” I croon, “You’re gonna have to leave this one here, but I think you’ll find lots of sticks in Holt.” I try to wrestle it away from her.
At first, she puts up a fight but relents when I show her my teeth in a sympathetic smile.
Bluebell is an Akita, I’ve had her since she was a puppy. I love her so much. I like to think she loves me too because she is super protective of me. We have our little language, so when I give her the look she relents and hops into the truck, stick-free this time.
“Ready babes?” Georgie asks as I climb into the driver’s seat.
“Yeah! I’m not letting myself get too emotional because it’s just a house we rented for a few months. Does that make me terrible?” I ask but the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me the answer.
As if she senses my mood turning sour, Georgie purses her lips and explodes into giggles, “No, whatever you need to do to deal with this is fine. Your mama doesn’t mind,” Georgie chuckles again and winks at me.
I imagine she’s been waiting to say that to me for at least two years, ever since I got her in trouble dancing on the table at the bar when we were sixteen. How was I supposed to know someone would tell her daddy we were there?
Anyway, that night I got her to come out with me because I told her that her mama wouldn’t mind. I’d never met Georgie’s mother so back then I thought it was funny but now that I’m older, and my mama is gone too it seems less so.
You see Georgie’s mama died when she was only ten… I’ve felt bad about it ever since I was old enough to understand. Anyhow, I know Georgie means it in good fun, in reality, my slip-up is long since forgiven. And even if there is an afterlife where my mama is watching my every move, Georgie is right, she wouldn’t mind this.
“Bye-bye, Scoobert!” I yell out the window at the top of my lungs as we pull onto the main road out of town.
I’ve hated it here in Scoobert, really and truly, the school was awful and I didn’t have any friends. I always felt like my life was in Holt, Scoobert is just where I was forced to lay my head. I also hated my mom a lot of the time for being stubborn and making us stay here. Now I feel bad about that, but I’m trying to leave my guilt in Scoobert, there isn’t anything I can do to change it now.
“Holt here we come!” Georgie cheers.
“Yeah! Holt or bust!” I yell and do my best version of a howl, so Bluebell can join in.
The hour-long drive to Holt passes quickly with good music and my two best friends by my side. I can’t help thinking that everything in my life will finally settle down. In the last months, I’ve done what I could to deal with the loss of my parents and I’m ready to try to start a new life.
That’s why I’m moving all of my worldly possessions to Holt. I spent a lot of time here in my teen years and even have several people I’d call friends around. Now that my mama is gone this is the only home I know.
This town is where my late father grew up; he was the last in a long line of Bailey boys. That didn’t last long though, by the time he was thirty-seven he was gone only days after my mother, leaving me, Tressa Bailey, an orphan.
Holt has a lot less going on than Scoobert and the last name Bailey means something here. For the longest time, my father was the number one handyman in these parts. The only reason my parents weren’t together was his refusal to move from Holt. He claimed that if he left Holt then his father would die.
My mother loved him but she left anyway and took me too; a few years later Grandpa was gone. Mom and Dad tried to form a relationship again but it was too late. Mom succumbed to a respiratory infection that she picked up during one of her nursing shifts. Dad apparently drank himself silly and crashed his truck, but it’s still under investigation.
I’m old enough now to be on my own, so there hasn’t been any intervention in my life. The day I turned eighteen I got a job; even before my parents passed away.
I’ll make my living waiting tables at Skip’s and live in my father’s old house. I’m eighteen now, I have to figure this out for myself. Sure, there are still a few months left of high school but I’ll make due.
After dropping off my stuff at my new-old home, Georgie and I strip down to our skivvies and shower the sweat and dirt off our bodies with the sprinklers. I can’t resist splashing and running through the streams of water.
Bluebell and Georgie join me in a fantastical water dance. It’s so nice to feel like a kid again, back when I didn’t wake up every day wondering what the next horrible thing would be.
Once we are mostly clean we lay out in the sun to dry. Cicadas buzz and the wind rustles the trees, it’s a gorgeous day. Lazy days in the Georgia sunshine, it’s hard to complain about that.
As I lay in the grass I look down at my hip, the future home of my new tattoo. I’m getting a stem of bluebells over my hip bone. My dog is named Bluebell too, but that’s because they’re my favorite flower. I’m a flower nerd and always have been. I know the needle is going to hurt but I think I can handle it. People say that it might help me grieve in a way.
I haven’t even asked Georgie what she is going to get done yet, truth be told this day kind of crept up on me with everything I had going on.
When I look at her, it’s impossible not to notice the thin black fabric sticking to her skin. She always wears a t-shirt to cover her body, ever since I can remember. I wonder if her tattoo will be in a secret spot too?
She usually doesn’t show her shoulders or her belly. I’ve asked her why before but I don’t think she’s ever given me a straight answer. She says she likes to keep the boys guessing, but I think there’s something more to it since there are no boys here. She also told me it’s because she’s so fair-skinned and that could be true; if it wasn’t for her big brown eyes Georgie would be all one color, platinum.
Anyhow, this is what I’m saying, she doesn’t tell me everything. As if she is reading my thoughts, Georgie’s dainty arm reaches for mine and pulls on my hand. She entwines our fingers as we lay in the grass.
“Tressa, I love you so much, you know that?” She asks sweetly.
“I love you too, who else will run through the sprinklers with me,” I giggle.
“I know,” she chortles, “But I mean it too, don’t ever feel alone in the world, okay?” She says, more seriously this time while she narrows her dark brown eyes on me.
“Okay,” is all I can say, she caught me off guard with that one, almost as if she knew exactly what to say to smash the wall I built up around my pain.
Now I’m crying, I bet she did it on purpose, she knows I haven’t cried yet.
I’ve been keeping it at bay because I was afraid once the floodgates opened, they’d never close. It was easy to push the emotions back when I had to handle not one, but two funerals, and estates within one week of each other; one of which came with a police investigation that is still ongoing.
But now, in a safe place with my safe person, the tsunami can’t be contained.
“Open your lungs up babe,” Georgie says as she crawls up and rubs her hand through my hair to soothe me.
I follow her directions and let it all out, right there in that field. It might be strange but by the time it’s over I feel better.
