Bound and Shiftless

Moving across the country right before I begin my senior year was not even a thought I considered. Usually, I would be prepared for a move like this since my mom was in the army, but she sprung this on me out of nowhere. Just a month ago, my mom told me we would be moving to a town called Midnight Ridge, which is 600 miles away, so that we can move in with her boyfriend, Eric. I was surprised that my mom was so eager to leave our house and her new job at the hospital to move me away from my boyfriend, Stephen. From the first time they met, my mom has never liked him. She always believed that he was a bad influence on me. He was always playing practical jokes and getting into trouble. But he never got into serious trouble, just harmless teenage stuff. Stephen was the kind of guy who could charm his way out of almost anything. He wasn’t a straight-A student, but it wasn’t due to a lack of intelligence. He didn’t see the point of following rules he didn’t respect. He never planned to attend college; he planned to enter the military. He didn’t know which branch, but he knew he wanted to travel, and he was going to join whichever service would allow him to visit the most exotic places in the world. Although he spoke of leaving, it never bothered me to hear Stephen talk about moving away. I know that his relationship with his Dad and Stepmom wasn’t the best, so he needed to escape the endless arguing, not just between him and his dad, but also between his Dad and stepmom. With my mom being in the army, I was always reluctant to make friends because we would eventually need to leave again. So, Stephen is the only boyfriend and the first real friend that I've ever had. Stephen even convinced me to try out for the cheerleading team. Something that I never thought I would do. Because of my full-figured body, I believed that cheerleading was not an option for me, but Stephen felt that none of that would matter. I think he just wanted to see me in the uniform. My skirt was always just a little shorter than everyone else’s—not because I wanted it that way, but because the standard sizes never quite fit me right. It clung tighter to my hips, rode up when I moved, and drew more attention than I wanted. The other girls on the squad noticed, too. They’d make harmless jokes and comments about how the crowd wasn’t watching the routine, just watching me. It was never cruel, just playful teasing... but it still made me slightly insecure about my appearance, and I could never tell if they genuinely liked me or if they were envious because of the attention I received from the guys at school. I smiled and laughed along, but deep down, I hated the feeling of always being noticed for my body before anything else. When my mom finally decided to retire, I felt like I had a chance to let my guard down and interact with kids and people in our town. Unfortunately, I only got close to Stephen, and his friends became my friends by default. I always felt like an outsider in his group, like I was tagging along like the third wheel. I thought my mom would be happy that I made one friend, but she never really liked Stephen. She felt that I was wasting my time on him and that the only reason I liked him was because he paid attention to me. She constantly lectured me on teenage pregnancy and how getting pregnant too early in life would ruin my future. I tried to explain. I swore to her that nothing happened, and nothing did. Stephen asked to pick me up and hang out with him because he had a fight with his dad and needed to talk. But she didn’t care and didn’t even listen. She was so upset that I thought she might try to kill me herself, but all she did was take my phone and ground me for an indefinite amount of time. I thought maybe that would be it, but I was wrong. A week later, she told me we were moving by the end of the summer. Once I heard the news, I asked her why, but all she said was, “You know why, Micah.” I then tried to explain that I hadn't known we would be out past midnight, but Stephen was upset and needed me. I didn’t have s*x with him. We didn’t even think of it. Not that Stephen hadn't tried to convince me a few times before, but he didn't that night. Even if he had, my answer still would have been no. I'm not ready for s*x yet, and I've made that clear to Stephen. Although I love Stephen, I've never felt the urge to be intimate with him. No matter how many times or how hard I try to convince my mom of that, she never believes me. I’ve never lied to my mom because I've never felt the need to. I’ve spent so much of my time in my room, doing my homework, being the good girl, model student: perfect attendance, I’ve never been sick, and never pretended to be ill to get out of school. Never gotten into a fight, never crossed a line that I knew I couldn’t come back from. All these years of damn near perfect behavior and one misstep had me uprooted and moved 600 miles from the only people I've been close to besides my mom. I sat there looking at the never-ending road we were on, trying to think of anything good that could come from this move. But I couldn’t think of anything, and I knew that arguing about it with my mom wouldn’t make a difference. Once my mom has made up her mind, it won't change. Moving me across the country during my senior year will never make sense. She retired three years ago, so we didn’t have to move around while I was in high school. “We’re here, Micah,” my mom says. I look up to see the welcome sign...Welcome to Midnight Ridge. Home of the Darkest Mountain,” I couldn’t help but be intrigued and slightly nervous by the town motto. I wonder what happens up in those mountains. “Midnight Ridge”. I whisper to myself. What an odd name for a town, but I kinda like it. About 15 minutes pass, and we pull into an unpaved driveway. Soon, I see Eric walking out of his house and onto the porch. The man my mom plans to marry next year. He’s a moderately handsome, average-height older man with salt-and-pepper hair. My mom tells me he's a deputy sheriff, which seems odd given his age. His son, Lane, on the other hand, looks like a typical jock physique—slim with chiseled features. He bears a strong resemblance to his father, and they are the same height. The only difference between them is their eye color. Lane's eyes appear softer compared to his dad’s. “Hello, I’m Micah.” “Hi, Micah,” they both greet me.” It's nice to meet you, Micah." Says Eric. "Let's get you two settled in and get something to eat. Come on, Kat." “Kat”, I think to myself. I look to my mom to see if she is going to correct him. She hates being called Kat. I pause for a moment to look around, trying to take in my surroundings before walking to the door. I must admit, the town is beautiful, peaceful, fresh, and feels very homey. Eric's house is charming, clean, and welcoming. It looks like one of those modern country homes made of wood paneling, with a wrap-around porch, a large flower garden in the front, and a pebble-stone walkway leading to the back of the house. "Micah, please feel free to look around. "Your room is upstairs, the third door, on the left." While walking up the stairs, I glance at my phone and see that there are no missed calls or texts from Stephen. So I decided to send him a text to let him know we had arrived. "Hey, we made it." I watched the message progress from being sent to being delivered and then read, but there was no response. Is Stephen ignoring me? I wonder if he’s upset with me. A bunch of scenarios run through my head about what he could be thinking or doing. Is he ignoring me on purpose, is he busy, or is he with another girl? I quickly dismissed the thought from my head. I don’t want to think about Stephen possibly being with another girl. "Micah," my mom says. "Focus on getting unpacked and stop worrying about that boy." Additionally, please go to the car and retrieve all six bacon cheeseburger wrappers, then dispose of them in the trash. "I don’t want my car smelling like fast food when I get in my car tomorrow.” As I head towards the door to do as my mom says, I overhear her telling Eric how many cheeseburgers I ate while we were on the road. I’ve been extremely hungry, but I didn’t think it was newsworthy. We’ve been here since around one o'clock; it is dinner time, and I really would like to stop unpacking for the night. Mom had a majority of our belongings delivered before we arrived, so we had to go through the boxes to get them out of the garage. My mom’s insistence on unpacking as much as possible is partly due to her obsession with having everything in its place, but I also know she is just trying to keep me busy so I won’t call Stephen. It really shouldn’t matter at this point since we’ve moved hundreds of miles away. Then, just as Mom and I were feeling fatigued and I felt like I couldn’t unpack one more bag, Eric asked us if we wanted to head into town for dinner. Naturally, I was eager to eat, so I agreed immediately, and Mom didn't disagree. "Pop, can we go to Howler’s?" "No, Lane." " Why not? You said you wanted to take them somewhere that they would enjoy.” "You know why, Lane," Eric says with sternness in his voice. My mom intervenes, "I would love a steak and a salad. Do they serve steak, Lane?" "Of course," Lane replies. "Lane seems eager for us to go there, Eric. So let's eat there, okay?" I can see the frustration in Eric's eyes, but my mom insists. My mom doesn't care what she eats, but she just wanted Lane to be able to show us his favorite restaurant. My mom knows that Eric can be a bit stringent; she’s told me as much, but that is what she likes about him. "Okay, but if we run into the West family, we leave.", Eric says. "Dad, there is no way not to run into the West family; They own the place." As we drive through town, I am in awe of how beautiful and peaceful the city looks at night. They have lovely streetlights that resemble old-fashioned lanterns lining the sidewalk. They light up all the storefronts and the benches placed randomly along the way. Finally, we arrive at the door of Howler’s Blues, a bar and grill. We enter, and the first thing I notice is the music. Soft, soulful music drifted through the air, weaving itself between the clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation. It wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, just a smooth, mellow voice backed by warm guitar chords and the gentle hush of a snare drum. The kind of music that felt like honey poured over heartbreak—slow, aching, and beautiful. It doesn't take long before we're seated, and I can't help but check my phone for the hundredth time to see if Stephen texted me. "Micah, no phones while we eat dinner. I would like for dinner time to be family time," Eric says. “Okaaay,” I say reluctantly, and I put my phone away. I picked up the menu, running my fingers over the laminated cover as I opened it. The smell of grilled meat and something sweet—maybe honey-glazed wings—drifted through the air, making my stomach growl. The menu was filled with bold fonts and local flair: burgers with names like “The Ridge Runner,” loaded fries called “Mountain Melt,” and a long list of steaks that made my mouth water. I scanned each option slowly, half-reading, half-daydreaming, trying to distract myself from the silence on my phone and the strange stares coming from Eric’s direction. I feel his eyes studying me. He has something he wants to say, but he is waiting for the right time to say it. And I guess he can’t wait much longer because before the waiter even comes to take our drink orders, Eric starts asking detailed questions about my plans for the future. He wants to know why I chose the college I’m attending, my major, and how I plan to support myself during and after college. Seriously, can I get an appetizer first? I’m too hungry and tired to be answering a barrage of questions at the moment. Seeing the annoyance on my face, he says, "Micah, I don't mean to pry, but your future is important, and you should think about it more." Before I can respond to Eric, a handsome man approaches our table and speaks to Eric. "Eric and Lane, it's nice to see you both tonight. Who are your guests?" I notice Eric tense up and look uncomfortable with this man’s presence. Still, my mom and I can't help but stare at this specimen of a man who now towers over the entire table. "Hello, Ethan. This is my girlfriend, Katherine, and her daughter, Micah. Micah and Kat, this is Ethan West." And that’s why Eric looked so uneasy. This is one of the West family members, who means he owns this restaurant. "Are you the owner? You look too young to own a restaurant." I don’t know why I said that out loud. That was so rude. I immediately apologize, but Ethan laughs and responds, "No, my mom owns this place. I just came around for the free food." Micah looked around, taking in the dark wooden beams, the vintage pool tables, and the soft golden glow of the hanging lanterns above each booth. The air smelled faintly of hickory smoke and spiced cider, and laughter echoed from the back where a group of locals played darts. It was cozy in a way that made her forget, for a moment, how out of place she felt. She looked up at Ethan and asked, “Why is it called Howler’s?” Ethan gave a small chuckle. “That was my dad’s nickname—well, sort of. His name’s actually Howell, but everyone called him Howler. Said it fit, especially on full moons.” He glanced at her to see if she caught the joke. “He built this place from the ground up. Said every town needs a watering hole and a little bit of soul. So he gave them both.” I can tell that Eric is uncomfortable with how Ethan and I are talking to each other. The more he spoke, the more eager I was to listen. There was something about him that felt oddly familiar, like a song she’d heard in a dream or a scent tied to a memory I couldn’t quite reach. His presence didn’t unsettle me the way most strangers do—it felt steady, grounding. Even in the silence between our words, there was a quiet understanding, as if some invisible thread connected them. I couldn’t explain it, but being near him stirred something in me—a pull that was equal parts comfort and curiosity. As an awkward silence passed over the table, Ethan broke the silence by asking if we would all like to attend his 21st birthday party. It will be a cookout, along with a bonfire. Perhaps, if you have the time, you can attend. When he said all, he was looking directly at me, at no one else at the table, and Eric did not like that. “They won't be able to make it. The kids start school on Monday and won't be attending any parties on weekdays," Eric interjects. “Even if it is a Friday night?” Lane asks “Especially if it is a Friday night,” Eric replies. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. I need to go. My friends are waiting for me. Have a great night.“ Ethan walks off towards a table sitting in the back of the restaurant. Every once in a while, my eyes landed on Ethan; he moved away from the table where all his friends were. He stood near the back of the restaurant, talking to a man I hadn’t noticed before. I couldn’t see the man’s face, but the guy seemed older, but not by much—maybe mid-twenties—with a calm, watchful presence that immediately stood out. There was something unspoken between them. Ethan respected this man. Ethan wasn’t cracking jokes or flashing that cocky smile like he did at our table. He was just… listening. Focused. It was subtle, but I could tell that whoever this guy was, Ethan held him in high regard. Maybe it was a friend or someone from his family? I didn’t know. They finish their conversation, and Ethan goes back to his table, but I notice Ethan is watching me for the entire rest of the dinner, and I can't help but look at him too.