Bottom Dollar 2: Homecoming

1| Back to reality

The plane ride home was excruciating. I didn't know if it was down to the sweaty woman next to me or the thought of going back to the town I'd escaped, possibly a little bit of both.

I reclined in my seat, staring outward at the clouds beyond my fogged-up window. In three hours' time, I'd be right back in Pinewood after a year of living the dream–right back to the mundanity of small-town life.

I gripped my armrest and tried to relax. If this were five months ago, I'd be jumping with excitement at the thought of returning home, but a lot had changed; now, all that filled my stomach was dread.

I closed my eyes and thought back to the year I'd just spent teaching in Barcelona. It had been difficult at first, scary even, but I'd soon found my feet in a beautiful city filled with culture and grandeur–Pinewood seemed like a blip in comparison.

My fingers brushed the pendant Nate had gotten me before I'd left. It was stupid to be wearing jewelry from an ex, but I couldn't bring myself to take it off.

"Who's it from?"

Startled, my arm flew up to cover the necklace from view. The woman next to me—a big, forty-something-year-old with bouffant blonde hair—curiously eyed me.

"Sorry, what?" I asked.

"That necklace," she said, nodding at my collarbone. "You've been holding onto it since we left. Who's it from? Must be somebody special."

"Nobody," I said, turning to the window. "It's not from anybody." No matter how true it was, it still hurt to say it.

I fidgeted in my seat again, trying to get comfortable. When I'd first applied for the Barcelona program, I'd been terrified yet hopeful; hopeful to finally see some of the world, and scared because leaving meant leaving behind loved ones; now, I was terrified to see them again.

When I finally got off the plane and through the security nightmare, I headed to the bathroom. It felt strange being back in America after being gone for so long like I no longer belonged. I stared in the mirror as I washed my hands, trying to find traces of the old me in my reflection.

The dark circles under my eyes were gone. I didn't have to spend all night worrying in Barcelona, so I'd finally gotten some decent sleep. Everything else looked pretty much the same, except for my new golden tan. So why did I feel so different?

My cab driver talked the whole three hours back to Pinewood, starting with his favorite music and ending with, Why would you ever want to leave Barcelona for Pinewood? I didn't bother to tell him I'd been asking myself that very same thing.

Finally, he pulled up to my house. Or what was supposed to be my house. It looked different to how I'd left it a year ago, so different, in fact, that I started to wonder if I'd gotten the address wrong.

The weeds were gone, replaced by a well-maintained lawn and bright, vibrant daisies. The windows had been cleaned and repainted bright white, a contrast to the polished, darkened bricks. The pathway leading up to the house had clearly been water blasted, because all scuff marks and traces of dirt had vanished, making the cobbled path look new.

"You getting out, Miss?"

I turned to the driver, suddenly overwhelmed. I wanted to say no and get him to take me to the airport, but instead, I climbed out.

I stared at the house, ignoring the butterflies ripping through my stomach. It had been almost four months since I'd last talked to anyone here, four months since I'd given this place another thought, and now I was about to face everything–everyone–I'd been running from.

"Show time," I muttered.

The door flung open before I could knock. My mother stood in the archway, looking nothing like the gaunt, frail woman I'd left behind. Her hair had been dyed and brushed into a plait, and her green eyes were bright and free from fatigue like she'd finally had some sleep, too.

"Meg," she said, pulling me into a hug. "How was your flight?"

I pulled away, surprised. This was a woman who had barely remembered I existed before I'd left; I just couldn't get used to it. "It was long," I said tiredly, stepping into the hallway. "I'm ready to sleep the rest of the day away."

It seemed the inside of the house had gone through just as big of a makeover. The stained carpet had been pulled and replaced with dark wood, and the wallpaper had been stripped and coated in an elegant pastel blue–my mother's favorite collar. Just how much had changed since I'd been gone?

"Come into the kitchen," my mom said eagerly. "There's someone I want you to meet."

I braced myself for my mother's latest conquest. Maybe a bald, tattooed man released early from prison, or another Teardrop tattoo-type guy. But what I found in the kitchen looked like a middle-aged salesman from the 'right' side of town.

He blinked at me expectantly before getting to his feet. "Hey, Meg," he said, shaking my hand. "I'm Dave. I hope it's okay if I call you Meg, or do you prefer Megan?"

I continued to stare at him, taking in his big blue eyes and naturally lifted mouth. He was a bit dorky looking, like how you'd expect an accountant to look, or someone who solved Maths equations as a hobby, but otherwise, he looked like a pretty normal guy–not my mother's usual type.

"No, Meg is fine," I said, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you, Dave. The house looks amazing. Did you have something to do with it?"

Dave shook his head before smiling at my mother. "Nope, not me."

My mother smiled back at him. "Your father and Nate have become regular handymen," she said. "They've opened up a business together, you know."

I tried to ignore the panic in my stomach at the mention of Nate. I'd known I'd run into him sooner or later, but to hear my mother talk about him the moment I got home was more than I could handle.

"Since when?" I asked, "and doing what? Robbing banks?"

She thought for a moment. "Around five months ago, I think. They worked so well together fixing up this house that they wanted to keep doing it. They've been fixing places up all over Pinewood."

I lowered myself onto one of the breakfast stools, suddenly feeling sick. Nate and my father were working together. Great. Avoiding Nate in a town this small was going to be harder than I'd thought.

A/N

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