I also heard quiet voices when I was the only one in the room. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was enough to give me the willies. I didn’t say anything to Marissa, fearing she would think I was going nuts.
Finally, graduation day was upon us. I wanted to leave as soon as possible afterward and had the truck packed and ready to go. We went to graduation and I spotted Marissa sitting with her family in the auditorium. She smiled, waved and gave a big thumbs-up. I smiled and gave her a thumbs-up back. When my name was called, her and her family stood and applauded.
I caught up with Marissa and her family after the ceremony. She gave me a big hug and a kiss and said she was proud of me. Her family followed suit, and I felt no deception. It seemed they were truly proud of what I had accomplished. We said our goodbyes and headed east.
I had planned to take I-40 east, and determined it would take 35 hours of actual driving time to get home. Marissa never felt comfortable driving my Ford F-150 four wheel drive, so I did all the driving myself. That was just fine with me. Once we cleared the city, I turned on the cruise control and let the truck do all the work.
Marissa knew that once I started a road trip, I would drive until I nearly dropped from exhaustion. We stopped a few times for gas and food and to stretch our legs. She seemed to enjoy the drive, commenting on this or that as we drove. The worst part was driving through New Mexico, where it seemed the road went on forever.
We finally stopped outside Oklahoma City and spent the night. After getting a good night’s sleep and a good roll in the hay, we headed out again. We actually made better time than I thought and arrived after just 14 hours on the road. Marissa didn’t know what to make of my little home town, having lived her entire life in the big city.
She looked around as I drove up the hard dirt road to the two-story house.
“Your mother lives here by herself?” she asked. I nodded my head.
“For now,” I said. “The house has been in our family for three generations. My great-grandfather built it, and my grandparents lived in it. My mother stayed after my dad died and someday, it’ll belong to my brother and I.”
My mother came out of the house as we got out of the truck. She still looked good, even in her early 50s and I had a hard time believing she hadn’t found someone to settle down with. She gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek and warmly welcomed Marissa. I grabbed our luggage and carried it upstairs as the women got to know each other.
Mom fixed a simple, but filling meal — meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans. For dessert, we had homemade apple pie. I loved her cooking and stuffed myself silly. We sat in the front room after dinner with a cup of coffee and talked about this and that, catching up on the local gossip and the family news.
“So,” Marissa began, “how do you manage by yourself?”
“Well, I do stay busy,” my mother said. “I manage on the insurance my husband set up, plus I get a small pension from his work. I also sell fresh eggs and honey and that keeps me in groceries.”
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