Tethered

Three || Frontier

{Stay A Little Longer - Brothers Osborne}

...Something like a strong wind is coming over me, has got a hold of me, yeah, thinking and doing things I shouldn't be, really I shouldn't be...

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    My nights usually consist of watching the clocks tick on and feeling my body sinking into mattresses, suffocating into a panic I try so hard to fight, so I stay awake until my body is too tired to feel anything but sleep, fading into the mattress before my body has a chance to fight. My nights used to be filled with adventures, long car rides, parties that left me tired for days after but with memories I'll never forget, and some I shudder to remember. Some nights, now, my eyes watch the sky paint itself back to that shade of sunny blue, through the pinks and oranges of the sunrise, to the morning's easy blue. Now I'm stuck here, sent away by my own family to the quiet rooms and lingering silences of the Taylor Ranch. No wonder Uncle Deacon let me come live here, it's deafeningly quiet in this house even with me in it. God knows how empty it would have been without me pacing the floors all night. 

    This night has been no different, padding from the window seat back to bed, listening to music, watching videos on my phone, writing, wasting the hours, thinking of nothing except this 'Harley'. 

Who is he? Why is he pervading every thought with the sound of that goodnight and his smile up at my window like some Romeo? I'm not anyone's Juliet, not even a Rosaline, no sir. I'm no one's love, even if they were a charming stranger and had a rugged southern accent. 

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    The whirring of the ceiling fan is beginning to become the single most annoying sound I've ever heard. Some find it relaxing, but not me. I want to switch it off, but this blistering heat had me opening my window this morning, sitting on the window seat to watch the sunrise. It was like watching a painting in the sky, something otherworldly and amazing, unlike the sunrises in the city, still beautiful but with so much getting in the way of seeing it all. 

   I sit at the breakfast table, lifting spoonfuls of cereal from bowl to mouth, thinking about the view from my window of the fields and their rolling hills in the distance. It makes me feel far away from home or at least the home I've been used to. It will take time to adjust. 

    This is day one, I remind myself. 

     I had exited my room at an acceptable hour of the morning, after the sun was at a higher place in the sky than on the horizon, to find Uncle Deacon outside on the porch. The bags under his eyes present, much like my own, and an empty whiskey glass sitting on the countertop saved me from asking how he spent his night. I want to ask how long it had been since he first opened that whiskey bottle, but I keep my mouth shut. 

    Outside the sun scorches the dirt path leading from the back porch off to the stables and the paddock, where I spent so long learning to ride when I was younger, and I think of finding a place to sunbathe or go riding near the hills. Everything feels boring to do on my own, but I don't think Uncle Deacon would enjoy spending the day slacking off from work with me. I'm not sure he'd be happy with me doing that either. Still, It would distract me from the lack of calls from home. I'm shocked I still expect any. Hope is a funny thing, that way. 

  "Ruby," Uncle Deacon speaks in a low, gravelly voice, popping his head around the back door, rubbing his temples slightly. "Get yourself ready. We're heading into town, gonna take you shopping with me."