I give Waylon a few minutes to kick the crap out of my bumper before I go to the register and settle up.

 

"You can do this," I mutter to myself as I push the heavy door open and head out.  He's letting go a string of curse words like I haven't heard in quite a while.  

 

"Hey, Waylon, you about done?"

 

He's out of breath and his kicks are getting less menacing by the second.  But he's still angry.  Angry with me, angry with his dad, and probably angry at himself for trusting Dougie.

 

I toss a quick look over my shoulder and see people gathered at the window watching what's unfolding out here.

 

"Let's go home."

 

"I don't want to go back to your stupid ugly trailer.   It's not my home.  You're not my mom.  You are just some stupid, pathetic piece of trash that my dad hooked up with."

 

The last time someone called me trash, I dumped a beer over their head.  I try to swallow back the nasty response that's brewing inside me because this is just a kid.

 

When I used to watch Dr. Phil on television, sometimes there'd be this ungrateful little ass talking ugly to their parents on there.  I remember thinking if my kid ever talked to me like that, why I'd knock the attitude right out of them.  And yet, here I am in my very own Dr. Phil moment and I'm swallowing back my anger.

 

"Either get in the car or walk back.  Its entirely up to you.  But for what it's worth, your dad left me behind too.  So, I may very well be some pathetic piece of trash that your dad hooked up with, but I'm hurting too."

 

His red, brimming eyes flicker up for just a few seconds. Without a word, he opens the passenger door and slumps into the front seat.

 

"Do you think you'll be going to school tomorrow?"

 

"What else can I do? "

 

"I can write you a note if you want to go in late.  You know, take the morning to get yourself together."

 

"It ain't gonna change anything.  At least, at school I'll be able to talk to my friends."

 

"Ok.  Just putting it out there."

 

When we pull into the Garden of Eden Mobile Home Park, I see someone sitting on my porch.  It's Aaron Earl , my neighbor.  To describe Aaron is like trying to describe the wind.   He's a laid back plumber's assistant when he's working.  A hippie when he's smoking weed. And a prophet when he's drinking.

 

"Aaron, your porch broken?" I ask as I walk to the steps.

 

"Where's Dougie?" 

 

"You tell me," I say.

 

"A friend gave me some beer he made.  Was gonna let him have one."

 

I hand my keys to Waylon and he unlocks the door and slips inside.

 

"He's not here, Aaron.  You might want to give that beer to someone else."

 

"Just tell him to come on over when he gets back." Aaron stands up, wobbles a little then grins at me. "I ran into Missy Toblerone this afternoon.  She told me the craziest story."

 

"What was that?  That she didn't kill her husband?"

 

"Oh, don't be like that Miranda.  There's gotta be a body to be a murder. Everybody knows that."

 

"Spoken like a true serial killer."

 

I look towards the door.  I don't really want to go in yet.  I'm not one of those girls who lights candles or waves burning sage around to purify my house, but I can tell you one thing.  There are too many reminders of Dougie in there.  From that damn monstrosity of a picture of the Mustang to the coffee mugs with bucks and does on them.  But the main reminder is a heart broken kid on the couch.

 

"Let's just clear the air.  Dougie packed up and left me.  He left his kid here.  Said he'd send for him in a couple of weeks.  But I'm not sure he's gonna follow through on that."

 

Aaron reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.  "Whoa.  That sucks.   You want this beer?"

 

"You bet your ass I do." I reach out and snatch the unlabeled brown glass bottle from him and plop down on the top step.

 

Aaron sits back down.  "God only gives you as much as you can handle."

 

"Oh, I forgot to mention that I lost my job this morning too."

 

I twist the top off the bottle and guzzle it.  It's bitter and terrible but I need it.

 

"When God closes one door, He opens another."

 

I swallow the last of the putrid swill and slam it down beside me a tad more forcefully than necessary.  "Aaron, you hope to meet God one day, don't you?"

 

Aaron smiles and nods.  

 

"Keep saying stuff like that and I'm gonna arrange that meeting. "

 

"Hold on.  All I'm trying to say is that it's gonna be okay."

 

I know he's right.  Deep down I know that life will go back to normal.  It always has before.  But before, when I hit those bumps in the road, I only had to worry about Miranda.  There is another passenger on this train wreck that I call my life.  One that doesn't really know me, like me or trust me.

 

Aaron's rambling on about stations in life and how we get tested.  I'm trying not to pick up this empty bottle and whack him over the head with it.

 

I lean my head back and look at the little pin pricks of stars.

 

"God,  it's me, Miranda.  Don't hang up. Please.  I'm just gonna need you to start opening those doors -fast. " I think.

 

 

To be continued ...