I think about my hometown often. The crisp smell of the southern oaks that lined the streets, as the sun peered through the branches, shadows were cast onto the asphalt. Every house seemed to be stuck in the 1950’s. The antebellum architecture was the most prominent on Main Street where the “richies” lived. Where I grew up, the houses sat so close next to each other. There wasn’t much room for a front yard or even a back yard.

Everyone knew each other in Clarksville. Sometimes we would have neighborhood dinners where someone would leave their front door open with the hope that the smell of whatever they were cooking on the stove would travel throughout the street.

My childhood best friend, Isaac lived four houses down from me. We met in Mrs. Benson’s class in the second grade. I haven’t seen him since he stopped showing up to class in high school. I followed him on Instagram recently and have tried to text him a few times. He used to respond but stopped about a year ago. I haven’t seen any new posts from him. I hope he’s okay.

Back when we were in school, he would show up with scabbed over knuckles and black eyes to school. One day he showed up with dried blood on his neck that trailed from his lip. No one said anything. I always heard rumors of Isaac being said, but obviously never believed them. I knew what was going on at home. I had seen it first-hand.

They were always fighting. Sometimes you could hear the yelling coming from their house down the block. His father used to be a good person until his mama left them when he was five years old. Before that, he would never take a sip of alcohol.

 When Isaac and I would play we never had to worry about sneaking food from his house since his father was always asleep on the sofa. Busch Light cans would be littered across the table and crumpled up on the ground. The TV was always running on any gameshow that was on at the time. Usually, it was Wheel of Fortune. Isaac never really talked about him. He would always talk about his mama.

“She was really pretty.” Isaac looked up at the clouds that slowly passed through the vast blue sky. “Like really pretty. The whole town thinks she was too good for daddy.” We sat on the curb of the street. We had just picked some honeysuckles from Mr. Thomason’s bushes in his backyard.

I followed Isaac in pulling out the middle part in order to get to the sweet nectar. We would always pick honeysuckles in the summer and lick the honey off of them when we were together. He taught me how to eat them the first time we ever played outside together.

“Sometimes I think she was too good for me,” he said with the center of the honeysuckle hanging out of the corner of his mouth like a toothpick.

“I don’t think so. I think you were too good for her.”

“You think so?”

“Yup.” Isaac hummed in response. That night his father beat him so hard that he bruised his ribs.

—

“Hey Sam, can you take that call?” Jensen signaled to the phone that he held up to his ear and mouthed “important call.” The phone on my desk continued to ring as he walked into his office that took up almost the whole floor. I picked up the phone with the best smile I could quickly plaster on my face,

“Snellings Insurance, this is Samantha how may I assist you today?”

“Samantha! Sam! Sammy! It’s John. I am going to need you to move forward with the renewal.” The sudden feeling of shock I felt through my body shuddered as I heard the thick Bostonian accent through the phone. Isaac was the only one who called me Sammy growing up.

I shake the thought, “Hey John. Unfortunately, I am unable to renew your liability coverage until your approval papers are signed,” I managed to muster out in my best customer service voice.

“Jensen can make it work without all that. So, figure it out, kay?”

“I—" before I could manage to tell him that he needs to send new paperwork, considering that his current paperwork is forged and unusable, the end of call tone rang in my ears. “You are going to be the death of me John,” I muttered under my breath. John Tampa is one of my clients, and he is definitely not my favorite. I remember that I had heard through the office gossip that in a meeting with Jensen he pulled a gun.

I scribbled down whatever notes I could gather from our short call and made my way over to Jensen’s office.

“Hey Jensen, John Tampa called. He wants to move forward with the coverage even though he doesn’t have the correct paperwork.” He was finally off the phone and just sitting at his desk scrolling through emails on his computer.

“Okay, and you’re coming to me why? That’s your job Sam, to move things along.” He kept his eyes on the screen as his eyebrows raised into an annoyed expression.

“What if I can’t? He refuses to send new approval papers. The ones he sent are all forged. The certificates office sent it back saying they couldn’t take it since it wasn’t his signature.”

“Sam, it’s fine! Just go ahead with it.” His eyes finally met mine over his square reading glasses. “John is our most loyal client. We need to do what he wants or else we will be behind. Now go call him back and say that you’ll move forward with it.” Jensen looked at me with a tight expression as if he were signaling me to get out of his office because I interrupted something important.

“Right. I’ll call him back.” I gritted my teeth as I pushed through door and back to my cubicle. As I walked away from the door, I heard Jensen pick up his phone,

“Hey Emily! Free for lunch today?” Everyone knows that he is cheating on his wife with Emily. He has never taken an employee out for lunch. Let alone a secretary that works in the main lobby of the building.

“Only three more hours,” I whisper to myself as I head back to my desk.

After taking off my heels that are way too small for me, I put my “Quick and Easy!” lasagna into the microwave and lean onto the countertop. Rubbing my temples to relive my dull headache, I remember my conversation with John Tampa after getting the “go ahead” from Jensen,

“Hey John. Its Sam. We can move forward with renewing your coverage.”

“See that wasn’t so hard! You girls like to overcomplicate things. Just like my wife. She gets mad at me for bein’ at work all day, but then when I get home, what does she do? Get mad at me for bein’ at home! All she does is nag about cleanin’ up!”

“I am so sorry to hear that, John.” I want to punch a wall. “Do you need anything else from me, or am I good to send your approval to Jensen?” Attempting to mask my disdain for this man with my voice was difficult.

“You’re good to send it over to boss man. He’ll probably end up handlin’ it better with no confusion.”

“Great. Emailing everything to him now. You have a blessed day. Bye-bye now,” I said with emphasis on the “blessed.”

The beeps coming from the microwave alerting me that my lasagna was done brought me out of my daze. As I pull the cardboard dish from the compartment, I notice how the lasagna does not look like lasagna. The “cheese” on top of the layers of noodles, beef, and tomato sauce looked as if it was plastic. Food is food. I am just grateful to have it on the table.

I managed to snag a good apartment for a somewhat affordable price in the city. The location is not ideal whenever I fall asleep to gunshots in the distance, but it’s something I am used to with Clarksville being a major hunting town.

As I finally sat in the creaky chair that my mother gave to me along with the matching table and set of chairs. I cut into the lasagna and blow onto the sizeable bite that is on my fork. Right as I am about to put the bite into my mouth my phone rings, “Now who is calling me right now,” I let out a defeated groan as I put my fork into the cardboard dish. As I pick my phone up, I notice that the caller ID reads “Mom.” I groan as I answer the call,

“Hey mom what’s up?” I tried not to sound tired but failed miserably.

“Hey mom? That’s it? No I missed you so much? How have you been?” I hear her scoff on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry. Long day at work.” I finally take a bite of my lasagna as I am holding my phone up to my ear.

“Wanna talk about it? Lord knows I have time.”

“Nah it's okay. It's not much, just that hard client I was tellin’ you about.”

“Oh, what was his name! John, right?”

“Yeah.” Man, this lasagna tastes like crap.

“Didn’t he pull a gun out on your boss?”

“Yeah, he did.” Putting my fork down, I sigh as I attempt to rub away the dull pain in between my eyebrows.

“Honey are you sure you’re, okay? You’re bein’ awfully short with me.” I could tell she was concerned.

“Yeah mom. I’m just exhausted. I feel like I can’t keep up. I came here to write and get my work published but has that happened yet?! No! I’m stuck in this stupid job that I hate. I feel like I can’t do anything right. I’m getting’ yelled at for things I shouldn’t even be gettin’ yelled at for. I don’t have any friends. My best friend hasn’t responded to me in months. I don’t know where he is or how he’s doing. So yeah! I am exhausted. I just want to come home. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” I tried to hold back the tears that were burning my eyes, but once again, I failed miserably. “I’m so sorry.” I managed to choke out in between sobs.

“Oh honey.” I could tell she didn’t really know what to say. She went quiet for a few seconds. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come home soon. Actually, really soon. I got a call from the rehab center off Hickory Road.”

“What? Why?” I don’t have any family members that I know of that needed to find help.

“It’s Isaac. He apparently still has me down as his emergency contact. He’s gettin’ out of rehab honey. He’s got no one there for him. I would pick him up, but I know how close ya’ll are…or were.”

I honestly have no clue what to say. “Oh wow. I didn’t know he was there. That would explain—” Now I feel awful thinking that he just wanted nothing to do with me. He was struggling, and I didn’t know. He’s been in rehab this whole time, and I didn’t know.

“Sorry to put this on you sweetheart. I know you have a lot on your plate, but it sounds like you need to come home. You might need to see him ya’know?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m gonna come home.”

After I hung up the call with my mom, I ate my cold lasagna in silence. The mascara stains still streaked down my cheeks. After ten years I might be finally seeing him again. Ten years. I hope he has healed, or he can heal. It still breaks my heart remembering all that he had to go through as a child.

That night I sent Jensen a request for the rest of the week off and packed my suitcase.

The drive this morning was long but refreshing. I haven’t felt truly at peace in a while. The burden of work always loomed over my head. While work was still taking control of my mind on this drive, I still felt a sense of relief. I really do enjoy driving, especially now that I am on my way to my hometown. There is a feeling of nostalgia that comes with driving on the long highways that go for hundreds of miles to the Florida coast. The humid breeze whipping through the car as I drive with my windows down is exhilarating in a way. My mother raised me on Jimmy Buffett, so now, on my way down to Clarksville, I knew I needed to blast his albums through my car speakers.

When I drive, I feel like my mind explores the craziest scenarios. It is the one time where my brain feels the capacity to freely think. What if I quit my job? They wouldn’t even miss me there anyways. I never wanted to live in the city. I moved away from Clarksville to simply make a statement that I could be a somebody. In my graduating class you either had a plan for your life or you acted like you had one. Growing up I had always wanted to become a children’s book author. Obviously a very risky field. I chose insurance to make money on the side as I pursued publishing opportunities... I really wish I hadn’t. I never wanted to move to the city.

As I pull up to the front of Mercy Recovery Center, I feel my stomach drop. The building looked like a weird mix between a hospital and the southern architecture that was prominent in Clarksville.

What if I say something wrong? I haven’t seen him in so long. What if he isn’t the same Isaac I knew? Of course, he’s not gonna be the same. He’s an adult now. As my racing thoughts continued to swarm my mind, I stepped out to the side of my car. I didn’t know if this was a situation where I should lean on my car to wait for him or to stand there with my arms crossed, so I just stood there awkwardly with my arms at my side.

After a few minutes, I watched Isaac step through the automatic glass doors. He looked the same as he did in high school, just a little bit older. His face still had the same, kind features except they were now strained with tiredness. His brown hair was still the same, curly, but fluffy enough that it would frizz in the summertime. His eyes were the same bright blue color of the sky, the feature that had girls swooning in high school, except now they were darkened with heavy eye bags underneath. He looked surprised to see me standing outside.

“Hey.” I reluctantly waved to him as he approached my car.

“Hey.” He waved back with a stack of papers in his hand.  “Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Anytime Isaac,” I say as I flash him a soft smile. Why am I being so awkward? It’s literally Isaac. He was wearing a plain outfit that fit in with the style of most of the guys in Clarksville. His cowboy boots were hidden underneath his worn-down jeans, and he paired it with a simple white tee and flannel.

I didn’t know if I should hug him, but I could tell that he really needed one. He was looking down at his boots while slowly swaying. I wrap my arms around him, and he at once embraces back. Before his body was tense, but as we embraced it relaxed.

“I don’t think I am ever going to stop thanking you, Sammy. I honestly didn’t know who to go to. I didn’t know what you would say. I didn’t respond to your texts, I’m so sorry. I knew I still had your mom down on my records, so I just told them to call her. Really Sammy, I am so--"

“Don’t. Seriously it’s okay.” I pull away from the hug but leave my hands on his shoulders. “I’m proud of you. This is a huge step and not an easy decision. You should be proud of yourself,” I say as I try to encourage him.

“I just don’t want to be like him.” As if we were kids again, I immediately understood who he was referring to.

“You are not him. You are far from it.”

“You don’t know that.” He looked down to his feet again, this time, his voice cracking, “Why else would I be here?”

“Because you are strong, and you took the step to get better.” Hands still on his shoulders I tell him what I know to be true in the moment, “I’m grateful I came. And I would do it again.” Finally taking my hands off of his shoulders I ask him, “Now, let’s get out of here. Where to?”

“Thanks Sammy. You have always been my best friend.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Do you mind driving me to Calvary Baptist? I need to do something.”

“Absolutely.” I didn’t want to question his intentions, but I also did not expect him to want me to take him to a church.

Image taken by Neph DM

Image taken by Parker Coffman

As we pull into the local Baptist church’s parking lot, I notice the hills that are covered in granite headstones and colorful arrangements of flowers. Isaac immediately tenses up. “Hey. We can turn bac—"

“No. I need to do this.” Isaac’s body relaxed more but he continued to pick at his cuticles.

“Okay,” I sigh as I continue to drive up the gravel road that leads to the main part of the cemetery.

“You’re good to park here,” he calmly states.

After parking the car on the edge of the gravel road, we slowly make our way up the hill. At the top sits his father’s gravestone.

“PHILLIPS” in bold letters adorns the grey headstone. Underneath it reads, “Loving father.”

“Who did that?” I nudge to the comedic line. Isaac lightly chuckles to himself.

“I did.” I give him a confused look.

“Why?”

“Although I’m pretty sure he’s goin’ to hell, I didn’t wanna ruin his image here on Earth. Not everyone knew what he did at home to me. Like to keep it that way.”

Still confused I ask him, “You didn’t tell anyone? They didn’t notice the—” I pause for a moment, “the marks he left?”

“I mean yeah, but most people in Clarksville thought I was just a delinquent kid. You know this. You heard them. You were really the only person who knew me. All the kids at school would make up rumors that I got into fights with the local biker gang or that I was drug dealer. It’s part of the reason why I left.” He looks up at me from his father’s gravestone. “I didn’t really mind what they said though. I knew it wasn’t true, and at the end of the day that was all that mattered.”

“Well, that’s good.” I flash him a faint smile.

Isaac then digs into his pocket and pulls out a metal flask. I tried to hide my shocked expression, but I failed.

“Don’t worry its empty.” He lightly chuckled to himself. “This is the last step in my program.” He raised the flask up as he crouched close to his father’s headstone. Setting the metal flask against the granite, he stood back up and looked at me, “I forgave him. I didn’t think I would ever be able to, but this feels like it. I wanna break this cycle. I don’t wanna be like him.”

“I’m proud of you.” With watery eyes, I genuinely smiled for my friend. He looks at me with glossy eyes and a slight smile. Then his facial expression drops.

“No way.” Isaac looks behind me and nudges his head.

“What? What is it?” I start to look around frantically and turn behind me expecting danger.

“Look what it is.” Isaac says as I finally recognize what he is referring to when I look behind me, at the bottom of the small hill we were standing on, near the tree line that divided the cemetery into two sections, sat a large shrub of honeysuckles.

“No way.” A smile creeps onto my face. He has a smile just as big, and it seems to be a genuine one. “Let’s go!” We both ran down the hill to the bush and picked as many honeysuckles as possible that we could fit into our arms. We then sat on the grass at the bottom of the hill as we licked the nectar from the center of the flowers and talked. We talked until dusk reached, and the sun set. We talked just as we did when we were kids. I told him about John Tampa and Jensen’s affair. He told me about the crazy things he heard while he was in rehab and his job he had before. And for a moment it felt like the world was at a standstill. Nothing was moving, it was just me and him. Me and my childhood best friend who has seen more than he should for his age. We sat and talked as if the world did not matter, and for the first time in a while I felt truly at peace. I like to think that he did too.