Short Stories

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I live in Scrubrush, Texas, somewhere on the road between El Paso and Midland. You won’t find it on a map. At least not any I’ve seen.

A man from a place called Google Maps stopped by once. Asked a bunch of questions, drove a funny car. Turned out he was lost. Town wasn’t on his map. He ate at the diner, said he would send a note to headquarters and add us to the map. We’re still waiting.

I enjoy watching the wild mustangs, but there aren’t very many around anymore. They never travel alone though. Funny how near- extinct animals can find one of their kind. Hundreds of miles with nothing around and they find each other. Guess that’s how my parents found each other, just looking for one of their kind. Suppose that’s partly why I’m leaving.

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Pa and I waited at the bus stop. Only stops when someone buys a ticket though. Greyhound 1454.

“This is how your mom and I met.” Pa spoke. He looked out west.

“At a bus stop?” I punched his shoulder. He laughed.

He put his arm around me. “No, college.”

Certain point, a child reaches a place where they ask questions about their parents or not. I figured a few years back it was too late to ask some things. I’d learned what I thought I needed to know.

“I’m proud of you.” Pa looked out back west. “Sorry ma didn’t come.”

“Well, I figure there are some things harder on moms.” Mom told me she couldn’t watch me get on the bus, it was hard enough on her already.

“Like saying goodbye.” Pa leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands. He ground his toe in the dirt.

“Like saying goodbye.” I stood up and paced around the bench. “I’m coming back, holidays and such.”

“She knows.”

“How’d you like Houston?” I threw a rock out over the blacktop into the brush.

“Liked it well enough, spent more time in Austin though, not much difference except the hills. But this is home.”

“Folks talk faster there, I hear.” I sat down and leaned back with my hands behind my head, the noon sun in my face.

“Well. I reckon a long time ago folks got tired of listening to each other. Now they figure they got to speak as fast as they can to get heard.”

“Wonder if I’ll still call this home.”

“Always be home, no matter what you call it.”

The Greyhound glinted in the distance.

“Looks like it’s about time.” Pa stood and collected my bags from the back of the truck.

I helped him. “You think it will be like on TV?”

“Some. Here ain’t like most places.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” I sat on my suitcase.

“Folks believe a lot of things, make choices we don’t make. Have more to choose from to begin with.”

“They don’t believe in God the way we do?” I looked up at Pa.

“Well now, God don’t change, just what people think of Him.” Pa rubbed my hair.

“So if I follow God the way I think of Him…” I didn’t finish my sentence before Pa took over.

“It’s a different world out there. I reckon when I see you next, you’ll have new eyes.”

“New eyes. Like the hymn.” I said

“Like the hymn.”

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