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Wednesday, October 6, 2010


Peter and I decide we want to drive to Lubbock just for fun. My friends there had already told me that they would all be out of town. Peter is anxious and uncertain about something. He drives my car and we arrive there within an hour. We stop at a swampy marsh area. All the trees are dead and the grass is long and the color of ochre. There's a small gravel path that slowly widens into a road. I tell Peter that I know exactly where we are, and that my parents had secretly moved back to the United States and lived only a short walk from the marsh. He is hesitant and is complaining about something. But we walk.
We reach the house, one storied red and pale yellow. The screen door is open, a closed wooden door is behind it. There are no cars there. I walk in silently. The house is more spacious on the inside then we guessed it would be. The windows are open and a ceiling fan is slowly turning. We take the hall to our right and go into a large bathroom. Peter messes with his hair and says he doesn't want to be seen by public. He mentions something about having plans with friends. He picks up a silver cross decoration from the counter and begins to cry. I hear distant talking down the hall. Only one voice, that of my stepmother. She is on the phone. I hear the jingle of what could only be a dog collar and her small yorki sniffing out our trail in the hall.
I tell Peter I'm going to step out and surprise my parents. I walk out and down the hall into the room my stepmother is in, still laughing over the phone. She raises her eyebrows at me in a smile and waves, turns away from me and continues her conversation.
I turn around and my father is in the kitchen. He gives me a hug and says they were expecting me.

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