Another fine day in beautiful, welcoming Wickeston.

4

Jessica

Being back in my hometown was strange, especially considering I never thought I’d live here again. Wickeston billed itself as “a charming slice of Western Tennessee,” but as I drove through downtown, it was hard to see the charm. A few cute historical buildings and 1950s-themed cafes didn’t change the fact that this place was dull.

We had a few big box stores and chain restaurants, nothing like the plethora of options I’d had while living in Nashville the past couple years. Most people were so damn bored that they entertained themselves by getting into everyone else’s business.

Like my mother, for example. I’d only been in town for a week and she had honed in on my love life with single-minded focus. Why the hell was I still single? Forget work, forget unpacking, don’t even think about taking a breath after moving halfway across the state. I needed to get back out there and meet a potential husband, regardless of how many volunteer events she had to foist on me to make it happen.

It was like high school all over again. Mom was right back to putting my entire life on her precisely timed schedule, and according to her, I was running late. I’d wasted all my time getting an education when I should have been pursuing my true calling of becoming a trophy wife and grandbaby-producer as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t like I could tell Mom no. Her house, her rules.

It was a sweltering, humid day as I pulled into the parking lot at her church. I hadn’t attended a service in nearly twelve years, but that was irrelevant to her. Her worship group was hosting a car wash fundraiser for the upcoming 4th of July Festival, and there was already a line of cars forming when I arrived.

God, this was going to give me horrible tan lines. Mom had insisted I dress “modestly” — most specifically, “no little booby tops and hussy shorts.”

Well, that was exactly what I was wearing. A low-cut top and cute frayed denim shorts. To be fair, they were the longest shorts I owned and did cover my entire ass. Barely. Honestly, Mom should have been grateful I’d put on a white t-shirt instead of only wearing the bikini top I had on underneath.

Unfortunately, she looked anything but grateful as I walked up to meet her, under the canopy sheltering volunteers from the sun.

“I should send you home,” she muttered, tugging at the hem of my shorts. Her long hair was teased up into a big pile of wavy blonde locks, perfect as always despite the humidity. But she used enough hairspray to withstand a tornado. “And you’re late. I told you to be here at ten.”

“I was working, Mom.” I sighed, taking a water bottle out of the cooler and running it over my neck. She waved her hand dismissively.

“That little internship is taking up so much of your time,” she said. “And they’re hardly paying you. You’re getting so pale being inside all day.”