This isn't weird.

Legend

Now that Millie had the freedom to escape the confines of her family home on a regular basis, she was faced with a different problem.

There was nowhere to go.

She considered looking for a part time job, but opportunities were essentially nonexistent. The only listings to be found were for an attendant at a teensy little gas station twenty minutes north of her (no thank you) or for caregiving positions for a few aging locals (which would have defeated the purpose of leaving the house, anyway). Options for recreation were equally slim. She tried hiking a few times—there was no shortage of wilderness to explore—but the mild climate and deciduous forests of Oregon had spoiled her. The first attempt was thwarted within the first mile by the oppressive heat. She couldn't carry enough water to replenish the sweat she was losing. The second trip was cut short in the first five minutes, when a careless step disturbed a nest of sleeping scorpions. No thank you.

There was a seedy country bar a few miles west of the gas station, but there was nothing appealing about being tipsy and alone, and most likely the only woman around, with the redneck day drinkers that were huddled over the pool table on her single, very short visit there.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Her slightly larger world felt even more like a prison than it had when she was trapped at home.

All there was to do was drive, and so she did. It was a waste of gas, of course, and she was loath to put the wear and tear on her already rundown car, but it kept her sane. Well, not sane, exactly, but as close to it as she was going to get. Only one radio station came in clearly out there, a grating combination of rightwing talk radio and gimmicky new country songs; everything listenable came with a heaping side of scratchy white noise. She couldn't quite explain to herself why she didn't just listen to the music library on her phone. There was just something comforting about knowing there were other people out there, listening to the exact same thing at the exact same time. It made her feel just a little more connected to the civilized world.

Occasionally, when she had gone far out enough to find cell phone reception, she would try to send a few texts to her friends back in Corvallis. But aside from Tess, none of them ever replied anymore. It was obvious that they resented the way she had treated Ben just as much as Ben did.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to even talk to.

Grocery shopping was about as exciting as it got. Now that she didn't need to rush home as quickly as possible, she no longer had to settle for the wilting dregs at the dilapidated discount grocer closest to their home. She could drive all the way out to Huntsville to visit the holy grail of grocery stories, H-E-B. On her first trip, wandering the aisles, she thought back to a conversation she'd once had with Ben, when he had nervously asked if there was anything that she missed from her mysterious home state.

The sky, she had said, and just Walt, mostly.

She felt a little guilty now for leaving H-E-B off of the list; she had done it quite a disservice. Not that any yankee could possibly have understood, anyway. Besides, it was too big of a clue. A quick Google search would have revealed exactly where she was from. Still, that first time sitting on a curb in the parking lot eating grocery store sushi was the happiest she had been since arriving in Texas.

H-E-B, the sky, and Walt.

Two out of three wasn't...

...bad?

No. Wait. Yes, it was. Not just bad. Awful.

Nothing in this state was worth a damn thing without Walt there.

Millie hadn't thought about him much at first. Her mind was too preoccupied with Ben, and her sister, and the life she'd been forced to leave behind. But eventually, the banality of this new existence began to set in. The familiarity of this place lulled her into a begrudging sense of normalcy, and soon began stirring up memories of a time when all of it really was normal for her. Now she saw him everywhere. Every landmark seemed to carry a memory of their time together. They had been so close back then, closer than family. Closer than lovers.