After leaving Abbi's driveway, still wondering if I'm doing the right thing, I drove the distance to my place.
It's your typical college apartment, nothing great, nothing special, just enough for people to comfortably live in. I mean yes, Elon does own this place, yes he has a team of maids that do all the cleaning and laundry, but still, I wouldn't call it the Taj Mahal of living quarters.
I pull into the driveway, parking and shutting off the pickup as I climb out. I briskly walk to the door, opening it and walking inside. I head to my room, as I kept all my belongings in there. The place was already stocked with furniture and appliances, so I really didn't need anything other than my gaming console, my workout equipment, clothing, and some other little things like a mini fridge, some wall art, my laptop, chargers, and a few family items.
Grabbing my suitcase, I stuffed all the clothes that would fit. The rest, plus my footwear that I had I just threw in trash bags.
Packing didn't take as long as I thought. I was in and all ready to go in about 45 minutes. Looking at the clock it was about 3:15 AM. If anything the party should be just dying down, either that or people just left after the incident.
I shook my head, threw the last of my things into the box of the pickup, rolling the Tano cover over the top, making sure it was tightly secured before hopping in the drivers seat.
Once I was in the cab of the pickup, I turned the ignition and…
I sat there…
….
I snapped out of the daze I was in and pulled my phone out. Quickly scrolling through my messages I found the ones I was looking for.
'Mom, I'm on my way home now, something happened. Don't worry I'm safe, I'm not in trouble with the law, no need to worry. But I am coming home, I'll be there by tomorrow night hopefully.'
After sending that message I sent one to my dad.
'Dad, coming home, will be on farm day after tomorrow.'
…..
Looking at the message, I get a reply back.
'Ayden, good, see you soon, on Ford Raymonds. Love, Dad.'
Old man still has such a way with words, brings a tear to my eye.
After getting a good chuckle out of that, I text the last person I wanted to.
'Hey Abbi…. I know you're still probably very upset with me. I just wanted to let you know that if I stayed with you, even for the night, no good would have come from it. I'm still sorry though. I love you and stay safe, please :3'
After the message sent, I connected the Bluetooth of my phone to the radio. I put on some '90s country playlist and started the drive. After making my way through town I hit the open interstate. Now it was 3:40 AM, there wasn't a soul in sight. Seeing that the radar detector showed that no cops were within detection distance, I put the hammer down.
There's something about diesel pickups, when that turbo spools up, the little drop in the engine as it drops gears, the absolute rocket-like take off. There's nothing like it.
40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100, 110, 120….
The speedometer just kept climbing. It isn't a sport car but man, when you're cruising in 9,000 pounds of steel, you just feel invincible. The lines of the road became a blur as I sped down the highway.
The drive was quite, by about 4:30 AM, there were getting to be more cars on the interstate. The dead eyed souls that run on coffee, nicotine, and truck stop food, the construction workers, blue collar workers in their cars and pickups, ranging in age and wear'n tear. They work harder then anyone else.
Slowing my speed a bit as the detector started to show readings, I passed highway patrol cars, sitting on entrance roads and divides. I could see a few of them yawning in their vehicles.
"Me too buddy, me too."
Saying to myself as the hours began to pass. Soon, the road had traffic all over. Looking at the fuel meter, I saw that I was running on an eighth of a tank.
I pulled off at the next truck stop. It was about seven in the morning at this point, and the place was busy as could be. Semi trucks pulling in and out, travelers stopping for food and gas, it really is just a revolving door of people and characters.
After filling up with biodiesel, paying, and grabbing a candy bar and a pop, I hop back in the pickup and hit the road again.
The hours seemed to fly by as hundreds of miles turned into over a thousand. Cutting across the states, I passed by major cities, small towns, and open farmland lines my path as I drive home. Looking out the window a bit I can see tractors in nearly every field, running hard to get spring planting done as the sky turns orange, signaling the evening has arrived.
Turning back to the road, knowing I have a few miles left, I glance at my phone.
'45 new messages from Nolan.'
'1 new message from Elon.'
'10 new messages from Abbi <3.'
'3 new messages from Mom.'
…..
Damn.
Mister popular over here hahaha…..
*Cough*
Alright, lets see what we got. Breaking all kinds of safe driving laws, I begin to read the messages from Nolan, and…. let's just say that these messages prove that skin color doesn't matter…. Anyone can be racist.
Mainly it consisted of calling me every racist name for whites under the sun, while also calling me a 'bitch' and 'pussy' for what I did and that I should fight him like a man.
Dude…
I kicked your ass before you could even finish your first swing….
Anyways after hitting the block number button, I read Elon's message, and boy, was it a real piece of….something.
'Ayden, I know what I did in that moment was wrong. I am sorry for that, but I promise you this. Abbi WILL belong to me. Not a matter of if but a matter of when. Enjoy it while it lasts, cause as soon as you're out of the picture, that bitch is mine.'
….
Well then…
Looks like someone wants to end up in a shallow grave just off of a minimum maintenance road.
Moving on to Abbi's messages, the first six were variations of 'I hate you' and 'Why would you leave me.'
The next three were 'I'm sorry' right in a row, I could feel her sadness, her pain.
There was a little gap in time between those and the last message which read.
'Ayden, after finally getting a little sleep I realized that I was over reacting a bit. It still hurts to know that you aren't here and I can't rely on you. But don't worry, I told my dad the whole story and he said that he wished you were here to shake your hand. I know right? Sounds pretty corny coming from someone like him. Anyways, my dad said he'll raise hell for Elon's father if Elon ever shows his face around me again. I have armed guards near me at all time too so even if he does something really stupid…. well let's not think about that.
I love you, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much that it isn't funny.
You are my rock.
My protector.
My best friend.
My love of my life.
I know you probably drove without stopping, you're just like that, I know you. You don't have to worry about me, but as soon as I am able, I'll fly out to see you.
I love you.
More than you'll ever know.'
That….
That was probably one of the sweetest things I had ever read, I really wish that I wasn't going 80 mph and could type a decent reply back. I'm glad she was able to calm down and think rationally instead of doing something stupid, like follow me out here.
Moving to the last three messages from my mom, they were, well…..
'Are you ok? What happened? Did you and Abbi break up? When will you be home?
Are you going to need food, what time are you getting in?
Love you and glad you're coming home <3'
…..
We don't deserve moms.
I focus back on the road and notice that I need fuel again, so I pulled onto the next off-ramp with a gas station nearby. I pulled in and started filling my pickup. While that was going on I started to text all of them back, giving various replies.
Elon: 'Nice try bud, but if you ever go near her again, a faulty balcony rail won't be your biggest problem.'
Dad: 'Good, see you in morning, love, son.'
Mom: 'I'm fine, should be home really late tonight. Me and Abbi are alright, no I don't need food. I love you too Mom.'
Abbi: 'I'm glad you texted me, just try and be safe, alright? I don't know what kind of stupid things I would do if I lost you. I love you so much Abbi, remember that always.'
….
Not the best work I've ever done but it's better than 'K'.
Seriously, people who text that are dicks.
Anyways, the pump was done so I paid with my card, hopping back in the cab and driving off. I only had a few hours left and it was already getting dark out.
'I'll be lucky if I make it back by midnight.'
While I thought that to myself, my phone disconnected from Bluetooth, and the AM radio frequency came on. I was about to turn Bluetooth back on when the story caught my ear.
'Early this morning, a protest broke out in the capitol, demanding the government lift certain restrictions placed on essential items and infrastructure. Police responded to the scene and an altercation broke out. Hiding in the crowd, a suspect fired a burst from an automatic submachine gun, hitting multiple officers. Police quickly returned fire, in the process of doing this, many protestors were hurt and…. many died. Others in the crowd were found to have similar weapons as the police exchanged fire with the assailants. After about a 30 minute firefight the assailants retreated. The death toll is still being calculated but the estimates are in the hundreds. The President is addressing the nation shortly, stay tuned for….'
...
I shut the radio off and continued the drive in silence.
'Hundreds of people dead? Submachine guns? What the hell is happening?'
I couldn't help but be appalled at the news. Automatic weapons were banned in the '80s, so unless the cartel smuggled a shit ton over the border and decided to have a mock war with the police, then this really doesn't make any sense.
"Haaa….. what the hell is the world coming to?"
Shaking my head, I can already see how this will play out. Bad guys get caught, government wants to ban all guns, when in reality, the shooting was committed with guns that were already banned. Some socialist politician will speak out about gun violence, giving bullshit to the public and stating facts that…. Well, let's be honest, they don't have any fucking clue about guns in general. Hell, they think a different STOCK on the gun makes it shoot faster.
Pisses me off, because who do they paint as the bad guys? The responsible gun owners, the ones who complete full background checks and gun safety courses. Not the kid with a mental disorder that's played too much Call of Duty: The 50th Anniversary Edition.
Enough of that, no good is going to come from thinking like that.
I shake my head again as I drive throughout the night, the road becoming familiar as I turn off the interstate. I begin to pass places that I knew like the back of my hand. Scattered fields where we had bonfires in during high school, different old farm places that my friends grew up in. The old church sitting on top of a nearby hill, its pews filled with the generation of yester years. I feel a small smile as my headlights illuminate the monuments of my past and childhood.
I make the turn to the gravel, bouncing along the road that has been beaten down by semis and tractors for nearly 100 years. Every little bounce, every little rumble in the road, I've felt a thousand times, makes the memories come flooding back.
Soon, with lights shining at the top of our grain leg, the farm place comes into view.
I turn into the yard, seeing various pieces of equipment sitting, equipment that I've spent many hours with a wrench in hand working on. I see that our big equipment shed is still open, meaning my dad is still in the field. 58 years old and still staying out until midnight….
Those are some big shoes to fill, old man….
I pull through the remainder of the yard, to the concrete slab that acts as our driveway, a familiar house greats me, with the same old '96 GMC sitting out front.
"Still haven't gotten the old girl running, huh?"
Talk about a throwback in time, that old piece of shit, with about 700,000 on the odometer, was the first thing I ever drove. I can still remember sitting on my dad's lap, barely seeing over the steering wheel, as we went up and down the gravel roads. Now, it sits there quietly, it's old Z71 engine collecting dust.
'I hope I can get it running this summer, grandpa would've loved to drive it again.'
Staring at the ole girl for a while, I shake my head and open the drivers door. I grab my suitcase and bags, slinging them over my shoulders as I make my way to the front door.
'Huh? There's a light on…'
Thinking my mom left it on for dad, I open the door, stepping inside the same entryway I've walked into a million times. I kick off my boots and walk into the kitchen.
….
Sitting there is a woman, her once dirty blonde hair showing more grey then the last time I saw her. An old John Deere sweatshirt, probably one of dads, way too big for her small frame. Clasping a mug with 'World's #1 Mom' sloppily written on the side. Almost like a couple of kids tried their best on a Mother's Day gift, many years back. She turned to face me, her tired brown eyes gazing at me with a love only a mother has. A bright, but tired smile appears on her face, as she stands and walks towards me, with her arms wide open. I pull her into a hug that seems to last for eternity.
"Welcome back, my son, welcome home…"
….
"Yeah"
"I'm home, mom."