FALSE GOD ━ Miguel O'Hara

TWO

"No, I don't understand," her friend clarified, drying a glass off with a rag. "You're just gonna drop your fish off with me and drive to some bum-fuck town in Louisiana? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Mel, I'm being evicted from my apartment. I was rejected from the writers' program at the Times. My godfather just died. And I ..." She sighed and pushed the tank more across the bar top. "Listen, I already sent in my letter of resignation this morning and I gotta go soon to make it in good time. Can I sell you the fish or what?"

Melanie shook her head, clearly thinking this was a bad idea, but no one could argue with Jude when she was onto something. They had to let her see it through. She was as stubborn as a horse. "Fine, I'll give you one hundred fifty for him because he looks rare."

Jude raised a brow and gave her a big smile. "Two hundred, maybe? You know how my Camino is with gas."

Melanie exhaled heavily again and pilfered through her wallet. She smacked the pile of twenty-dollar bills in front of Jude. "Only for you," she replied, sliding them closer to her.

Jude gave her friend one last hug goodbye before going out to her car that she parked on the street. She checked her trunk, wondering if she missed anything. She had packed up the essentials this morning, making sure to put any family belongings like photo albums or frames in a separate box. Jude didn't have much in the apartment to begin with, besides a few favorite furniture items that she had to leave behind. She didn't even tell her landlord she was leaving; just got her things together and packed them in her old Chevrolet El Camino.

It was times like these that she thanked her lucky stars for keeping a steady stream of money flowing into her savings account every week. There was no way she could make a snap decision like this without it.

It looked like everything was in order. Hopping into the driver's seat, she got her GPS on her phone ready and noticed a few texts from her Creative Director, Adam – more like her old Creative Director, now that she resigned. She ignored the texts, propped her phone into one of her cup holders, and pulled out of her spot. She prayed for the first time in a long while that she was making the right decision. There was no place like home to write a memoir with heart, right?

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The drive to Barton Hollow would take about 3 days. Jude wasn't exactly excited about going back and having to face her family again, but she supposed there came a time in every 20-something-year-old's life when their past came back to bite them. What was she to do – wait for this reunion until she turned 30 in a year's time? Perhaps this was Fate telling her to rip the bandaid off now, so to speak.

Fate usually had a habit of fucking her over.

She was driving through West Virginia as the sun was setting on her first day of driving. Johnny Cash was blaring through her car's speakers – God's Gonna Cut You Down. How fitting. She had her window open as a Lucky Strike cigarette dangled in between her lips, the warm air blowing her hair off her shoulders. It wasn't a hot day by any means; the air was warm, but not humid anymore. Jude was grateful for it, knowing the kind of heat she was going back to in Louisiana. This dry warmth reminded her of every Spring during her childhood, when her godfather would pick her up from school and take her to Dolly's Creamery for ice cream. She would get mint chocolate chip; he got old-fashioned vanilla. His wife, her Aunt Peggy, would join sometimes, or decide to take them out to a movie instead. Back then, movie tickets were at least half the price they are now, but Peggy still complained about it. Once it hit summertime, he would mix it up, taking her to the local watering hole one day and then the park the next. The days when she had to walk home were treacherous. Uncle Abel really had been her best friend, a source of happiness in such a dreary, hot town.