facing reality

She had driven nearly 1000 miles for this. Waited 2 weeks and smoked 3 packs of cigarettes. Her mom said she was crazy for doing it, that the mission would never succeed. Her sister refused to acknowledge the quest, but her best friend supported her whole-heartedly even though she couldn’t join her.

The ride took nearly two day but was filled with the beautiful mountainous scenery of the Appalachian mountains. She slept overnight in her car, snacking on the peanut butter sandwich and cheez-its stashed in a cooler in the back seat. Pulling off on some side road at nearly 1 am had it’s disadvantages. After all, there weren’t lights for miles, except those of dimly lit houses scattered here and there. And she didn’t have a cell phone should a stranger with fancy ideas try anything.

But Emily did have peace and quiet, and no one did try anything. In fact, it was a quiet night and she slept well. That is until the sun rose at 6 am. She couldn’t sleep with the light peering through the windows so she began driving again.

A light steam was rising from the ground, covering the bushes and grass in a hazy fog. The sun, shining his rays down on the scene, made everything seem hazy and dreamy. She admired the beauty of this moment, the simplicity of creation. She even saw a couple deer by the road way, a doe and her baby. They lifted their heads up and froze like statues as she drove by, but she saw them dip their heads to take more grass from her rearview mirror.

After several hours, she decided to stop at a gas station off the highway. It was a fairly deserted area, and the one gas station seemed run-down. She pulled in, the questioned whether it was even open. As she sat debating whether or not she should just jump back on the highway and young woman came barreling through the front door, letting the wooden framed screen door slam behind her. The woman didn’t dare look in her direction, just stared ahead determinedly as she strode across the parking lot.

“Elaine,” a scrubby man screamed as he threw open the door. “Elaine! Come back,” he yelled. “I swear woman, if you don’t get your wobbly ass back here, I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder and drag you home where you belong.” At that, the woman stopped and turned toward the man.

“Oh yah, Earl?!” Elaine questioned, though it was obvious she wasn’t really asking him anything.

“Yeah,” he said, daring to challenge her.

“Come and get me,” she said, her voice now low and teasing. She stared down Earl, who was suddenly rushing her. Stunned, she didn’t move and he was able to get right in front of her, dip his shoulder and scoop her over it. She was laughing by this point and pounding her fists against his backside.

“Earl,” she screamed. “Earl, put me down!” He just laughed and shifted the sucker in his mouth. Elaine kicked and continued screaming as he carried her back inside the building. Emily waited, trying to process all that she had just seen. She hesitated going inside, afraid of what the young couple might be doing.

Fortunately, when she stepped through the front door, it was just the young man behind the counter. He was turning the dial on a well-worn radio, though nothing seemed to be coming in. Emily approached the counter slowly, noting a strange smell, like pizza mixed with toilet bowl cleaner.

“Excuse me,” she asked. “Do you have a restroom?” without looking up, he pointed the corner behind her.

“Thanks,” said Emily as she turned around. The bathroom was less than desirable, which was to be expected. But she got a water and some M&M’s and got back on the road, happy to put that whole scene behind her.

Several hours later, she rolled into a small town just outside of Greensboro, North Carolina. It was a quaint town, flags flying from the porches of nearly all the houses lining main street, lawns well-manicured and kids riding bikes. It was like a scene torn from the pages of Mayberry.

And now here she sat, in front of a yellow ranch style home with a large front porch. The porch had two wooden rocking chairs and one of those planters that looks like a bench, overflowing with pink azaleas. A large tree offered shade to the front yard, and a cat with a swooshy tail sat staring out the front window. This was it. This was her father’s home.

She hadn’t seen the man since she was two, so the only memories she had had been passed down stories, fabricated scenes in her imagination of a man who was vibrant, outgoing, the life of the party. He was clearly not ready for the demands of childhood, but Emily’s fantasies never focused on this fact. She chose, instead, to dream about the life she could have had, would have had with her father.

She decided nearly two years ago that she would meet her father when she turned eighteen. She did her research and found just 6 months later. Holding onto this information, she waited for graduation to pass and then her 18^th birthday two weeks later. Her mother was against this and her older sister, having known her father better, did not support the decision either. And so, Emily was on her own.

She had been sitting in front of this house for nearly two hours. The fever of meeting the man she’d long dreamed of had turned into a fear of his reality. It all seemed so fragile, suddenly, as though it might slip through her fingers or tremble and shatter into a million pieces. Finding her father had been the easy part, she was now realizing. It was facing him that would prove to be the greatest challenge.

She sighed and turned up the radio, a Counting Crows song crooning over the airways. A car passed by, causing her to jump a bit. She looked back at the house, in all it’s perfection and reached for the door handle.