Have you ever thought of packing up everything you own and moving halfway across the country?
I’m talking about leaving your entire life behind—friends, family, school—with no turning back. No? Me either, but that was before a week of spring break changed my life forever. Before I did something I never thought I’d do at twenty-two. Before I fell in love with Grey.
Sometimes happily ever after isn’t always what you think it will be.
I kicked the back tire twice. It was
already deflated. My frustration was pointless. Seriously, how could I have a
flat tire? I stared at the rubber as it formed a pancake on the shoulder of the
road. I didn’t see anything protruding from the mangled mess, but who knows
what happens on these back Louisiana highways.
I pulled out
my phone to call roadside assistance. There was no way I was driving another
inch on that thing.
“Hi. Yes, this
is Eden Brady. The trailer I rented from your company has a flat tire. Can you
send someone to change it out?”
“Where are
you, ma’am? And I need your rental ID number.”
I looked at
the swampy canal on my left and the rows of sugar cane on my right. I had no
idea where I was, only that my trip was on hold and I was completely stranded.
I searched the canal waters warily, wondering if there might be critters in
there I didn’t want to meet.
“There was a
detour and I was rerouted.” I sighed. It wasn’t as if I memorized all the
highway numbers. “Let me check my phone.” If the map on my phone could pinpoint
where I was, I’d have something to share. “It looks like I’m on state road
101.” There were no mile markers or exits. Only swamps and sugar cane. I
unfolded the rental slip from my pocket and read the numbers in the right-hand
corner to her.
“Ok, I see
your reservation in our system. It will be at least an hour before we can
dispatch someone in your direction.” Her voice was crisp, not at all the
comforting tone I needed right now.
I cringed. I
had already garnered five catcalls from slow-rolling pickup trucks and I’d been
standing here less than ten minutes.
“An hour?
Isn’t there someone closer than that?”
“No, ma’am.”
The operator was losing her patience with me. “He’ll be there as soon as he
can.”
Before I could
ask anything else, she hung up. I looked at my phone. Next time I moved, I
would definitely go with another company. She didn’t need to get snippy. I was
the one on the side of a Louisiana back road.
I trudged to
the cab of the truck and climbed into the air-conditioned cabin. There was
nothing cool about September in this part of the South.
My entire life
was in the back of this truck. The bedroom set I bought when Taylor and I moved
into our first apartment. Boxes of books that I couldn’t seem to part with and
their bookcase. Suitcases of clothes. My first pair of cowgirl boots.
I flipped on
the radio. Who does this? Who packs up her entire life and drives halfway
across the country by herself? I do. Because part of me can’t seem to believe
that I’m no longer coasting through life alone. I had to prove that I could
take care of myself. To me, that meant making the move from Chapel Hill to
South Padre Island one hundred percent alone. No parents. No friends. Above all
options, that meant no Grey.
The strategy
was to make the trip in two days. I had a route planned that included an
overnight stay in Montgomery, Alabama. That part of the journey was smooth. I
made it to the hotel before dark, checked in to my room, and called Grey to
tell him I was safe and sound. The first half was over and I made it without a
speck of help.
This morning,
I hopped out of bed at six, ready to finish the last half of this travel feat.
I had a hot cup of coffee, listened to the parking lot birds sing, and pulled
out of Montgomery with a smile on my face. As Alabama faded in my rearview
mirror, I felt the confidence surge through my veins. I was driving the biggest
rental truck the company carried, with my car on a trailer behind it. It didn’t
get much braver or bolder than this. I even learned how to pump diesel fuel at
the truck stops. The trick was to wear gloves. I was quickly becoming a
truck-driving expert.
I had to make
this statement. Grey needed to know I could do things on my own. I needed to
know that, just because I was in love, it didn’t mean I couldn’t make change
happen in my life. I was still in control.
The second I
saw the back tire on the trailer scorched with smoke and I pulled alongside the
shoulder, all those proud certainties fizzled. This sucked.
I slouched in
my seat and checked the mirror in case the service car had arrived. Nothing.
Plenty of cars slowed to have a peek at my dilemma and me, but not a single car
in that lineup included a man with a spare tire.
I thought
about calling Grey, but if I told him where I was, he would get in his truck
and start driving. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I could
handle the situation and everything was under control, he would drive straight
to me. That’s what Grey does. That’s why I fell in love with him.
T.A. Foster once spent a monthlong spring break on South Padre Island, where she soaked in the Texas sun, beach, and learned what real Texas country music is. Sometimes fiction does spring from reality.
She grew up catching rays and chasing waves along the North Carolina Outer Banks and now resides in the state with her adventurous pilot husband, two children, and two canine kiddos.
T.A. has an undergraduate degree in Journalism and Mass Communication from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a graduate degree in Educational Psychology from Texas A&M University. When she’s not chasing her two-legged and four-legged children or trying to escape for date night, you can find her reading, writing, or planning her next beach trip.
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