I Will Always Come Back

Chapter 1

Sometimes, Mo really regretted going off to college. Usually their regrets were about things like throwing up on the expensive rug at the Delta Delta Kappa frat house after one beer, or about dying their hair neon orange in a fit of depression, or about trying to sled down the hill outside the Science Wing using a cafeteria tray and chipping a tooth. But Mo figured that out of all those, choosing to take Cultural Biases and You for three credits to fill graduation requirements was by far, the worst decision of their college career.

Mo wasn't even a sociology major but three credits was three credits: and there was nothing Mo wanted more than to have an easy spring semester, walk in May, and then go work at some prestigious fashion design company. Jem had promised them it was an easy course, had said that Mo could do the assignments ten minutes before class and be hailed as a literary genius. But that was before they'd learned there was a new professor teaching the class that semester, and before Mo had come home bearing a semester long assignment. Mo had stormed into the tiny studio the two of them called home, and headed straight for the alcohol in the fridge. Jem had been at the kitchen table, highlighting some legal jargon in her textbook, but had stopped to watch Mo take a swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

"Rough day?" Jem asked, her brows furrowing.

"The roughest," Mo swore, taking another gulp and gagging at the burn, "Who the fuck assigns a term paper on the first day of class?"

Jem's eyes widened, and then she burst into a fit of laughter. "So that's what this is about!"

"Yeah yeah, laugh all you want." Mo groused.

Jem pointedly laughed louder. "Man it sucks for you that old Professor Hanesworth decided to retire to sunny Heaven's Beach."

"Yeah thanks Hanesworth!" Mo shouted.

"Shh!" Jem giggled. "Not so loud! The neighbors will complain again."

"Let them! I know they haven't been picking up after their dogs. I have dirt on them!" Mo sipped at the bottle again, making a face. "Anyway, Professor Tobin is fresh out of teachers school, and he thinks that every young person should "face our hometown culture" whatever that means."

It was Jem's turn to make a face. "Hometown? You don't mean—"

"Yup. I'm headed back to Sugar Lake."

Jem pretended to stick her fingers down her throat. "God, I need a drink and I'm not even the one going back to that dump. Pass it over." Mo handed the bottle to Jem, who proceeded to take a large swig, which she forced down. "Remind me why we drink this shit again?"

"Uh because it's cheap and we're poor?" Mo said.

"Sad, but true. Anyway, what's your therapist think about this?" Jem asked, swirling the bottle around in her hand. Mo watched the liquid slosh around while they recalled what exactly Dr. Clifford had thought about the assignment.

"Something about it being good to face my trauma or whatever, and something else about remembering I have social support back home."

Jem sneered. "Support? That town never cared about either of us. I keep telling you, that doctor's a quack, doesn't know what he's saying."

Mo sighed. "Yeah well, he's kept me alive this far."

"I thought that's what I've been doing." Jem said, her voice small. Mo leaned over and squeezed her shoulder.

"You've been doing a great job. Except for supporting my drinking habits, that's probably gonna kill me someday."

Jem barked out a laugh, and extended the bottle to Mo.

"Live while you're young right? Take it back, you need it more than I do."

And now three weeks later, Mo was perched on their suitcase outside Copperside train station, an hour's drive from Sugar Lake. Their mom had sent them a text, saying that work had her running a little late, but she would be there soon to pick Mo up and take them home. Home, Mo thought, wasn't really the right word for Sugar Lake. The town hadn't been a home since their dad died. Mo's chest tightened at the thought of their father, Ozzy Rivers. Folks around town called him a gentle giant, a man with a broad chest and shoulders who wasn't afraid to cry at Hallmark movies. Even after seven long years without him, Mo could still remember every detail of his face: the way he smiled showing his teeth, how his eyes crinkled when he was happy, how his beard was always perfectly at a non-scratchy stubble level, even though they'd never seen him shave it. It's not like Mo could forget anyway: they saw his face every night in the blackness of their dreams.

Mo felt their breaths come fast, heart pounding quicker, and that familiar sense of doom creeping up on them. Breathe Mo, they thought, don't lose it now. You've got four long months in this backwater, how are you going to make it if you start breaking down now? But the thoughts kept coming, forming into pictures, fuzzy at first, and then sharper. Snapshots of the white bark White Pine Forest was known for, images of the bark charring and crumbling into ash as the world roared orange around them. Mo could have sworn the air around them was getting hotter, and the old burn on their leg tingled. Mo pressed a finger into it and tried to focus on that pain, tried to think about the lush green outside the train window on the ride over. But in their mind, even that too was consumed by flame, and their vision started blurring and the world started spinning and—

"Mo? Mo honey? Are you okay?"

Mo looked up into the face of their mother, her eyes filled with worry. Mrs. Rivers pulled them into a tight embrace, one hand tracing circles on Mo's back, one stroking their hair.

"I've got you sweetie, I'm right here, you're right here with me, breathe. In and out. In. Out."

Mo focused on their mom's voice until the world snapped back into focus, and the image of the forest faded back into the recesses of their mind. Their mom didn't let go until she felt Mo's voice slow back to a normal rate.

Mrs. Rivers stepped back from Mo, her eyes filling with tears.

"I can't say I haven't prayed for you to come home every night, but if I knew it would be this hard for you..." She sucked in a deep, quivering breath.

"Anyway, let me take your suitcase honey." Mo trailed behind their mother, taking her in. She seemed smaller than Mo remembered, and there was more gray in her hair, threatening to overpower the jet black hair Mrs. Rivers had always been so proud of. Had she always looked this tired? Mo couldn't remember. Mrs. Rivers tossed Mo's suitcase in the bed of the truck, and turned to look at her child.

"Something up Mo?"

Mo shook their head. "Nothing, it's just been a while is all. Missed you." At that, Mrs. River's face lit up with a genuine smile.

"That it has. Missed you too, heaps. How about you hop on up in the truck and catch me up on everything you've been up to okay?"

So Mo did: they talked about their first time drinking with Jem, about their awful college advisor, about the first fashion show they ever did for class, the first clothing line they ever designed. Mo had just started talking about the job opportunity they had lined up for after graduation, when the sign to the town entrance caught their eye. Welcome to Sugar Lake, it said, where life is sweet and easy. Mo's lips kept moving, but no sound was coming out anymore. Mo's mom leaned over and squeezed their knee.

"Doing okay kiddo?"

"Yeah." Mo inhaled deeply, held the breath until it hurt, and then let it go.

Driving through the main square, it seemed like time had stood still for Sugar Lake. Everything was right where they had left it. The library was still advertising children's reading hour, the diner still had it's worn out neon sign that was supposed to read Louisa's Diner and now just read Din. Mo knew if they turned their head to the left, the clinic, cinema, and salon would be on the other side of the street, all in a row.

"Some things never change huh?" Mrs. Rivers said lightly. Yeah, Mo thought, but we changed. You and I changed, and I don't know if it was for better or worse.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride to the house.