The Runaway and the Return

I have often been called a “wild card,” but it was the solo trip to the UK that finally taught me why. It was a “runaway from life” mission sparked by a friend bailing on me at the last second. I’d offered to pay his way; he stayed home, and I found myself at the airport, staring at a round-trip ticket I refused to waste. I traded my chaos for old castles and nerdy make-outs, gaining a new appreciation for the life I had left behind in the States.

I was returning to a life that was a minefield. I was mid-exit from a volatile, abusive relationship. My car was a totaled heap of metal thanks to a sister’s driving mishap. In my twenties, I had already lived a dozen lives: angry rebel, old maid, loving mother, wife, and child of damaged parents. I was everything, everywhere, all at once.

The Night at 37

Before the trip, there was a show. I drove my rental car, much nicer than my own, to the 37, feeling a rare flicker of excitement instead of my usual nerves. I wanted to feel human again. I needed to remember I was a woman, not just a caretaker.

The bar was a sea of “Amazonian” folks; tall, blonde, and towering. And then there was me: a short, busty brunette in tight blue jeans and a low-cut top, shielded by my traditional cardigan and Converse.

“Hit me with a Jack Fire!” I shouted it into the din of smoke and music. I felt invisible until I found my friends. I was swept up in the arms of my besties, but from the corner of my eye, I felt him.

Friendly Adjacent

He wasn’t a stranger; he was “friendly adjacent.” A talented but troubled sweetheart who had been a thread in the fabric of my life for years. He’d worked with me, been tight with my dad, and even attended my first wedding. He’d played house parties while I was pregnant and, in a twist of irony, once changed the locks on the house I shared with my ex.

Backstage, the liquor started to flow. He followed me around like a precious puppy, his eyes full of a baseline of admiration and lust that I tried to ignore. I wasn’t ready to feel “worthy of being noticed,” so I danced, sang, and chose denial to keep my heart rate slow.

The Kiss and the Atlantic

When the show wrapped, I had an appointment with a soon-to-be-divorced “freaky” distraction, so I went to say my goodbyes. He saw me and moved through the crowd immediately. He was goofy, nervous, and endearing.

So, I kissed him.

Not a peck, but a full-on, brief make-out that hummed louder than the music. When a fan interrupted us, I took it as my cue. He fumbled an attempt to take me home; I laughed and told him, “Maybe next time, after I get back from Europe.” That kiss traveled with me. It stayed in my mind all weekend and followed me across the ocean blue all the way to London.

Under the Stars

I returned from the UK still playing hard to get, leaving his persistent messages unconfirmed. But eventually, the “wild rocker” got his date. It was a night of drinking and vulnerability that ended under the stars. That was the night I finally stopped running. I didn’t just meet him there; I rocked his world.

The Georgia Sanctuary: Prickly Grass and Planets

I returned from the UK with the salt of the Atlantic still on my skin, but it was the red clay of Georgia that finally held me still.

He took me out past the reach of the city, to family land where the “blaring lights” of civilization couldn’t find us. We started in the shed, shots, smokes, and the easy rhythm of two people who had known each other for lifetimes but were meeting for the first time.

Then, we moved to the grass. It was prickly and unforgiving against our bare skin, but the sky above was anything but. We were surrounded by the giants, North Georgia trees that stood like sentinels, guarding our vulnerability. There were no expectations, no roles to play, no one to take care of. Just the sound of the wilderness and its “wild animal followers” echoing in the dark.

Under that luminescent canopy of bright constellations and distant planets, we laid it all out. The conversation was as barefoot and honest as we were. That was the night the “wild card” found a place to land.