Lincoln

The cold February air nipped at the exposed skin on my face as I exited my Audi in the airport parking garage. I was bundled up in a black, double-breasted trench coat with a black fitted sweater beneath and a cashmere maroon scarf around my neck. In any and every situation, I was dressed to the nines. Even if I was headed to my own personal definition of hell. I gathered my bags and made my way into the airport, cursing my family the entire time. I had so much business to take care of and so many things to tend to, but I’d had to turn my work over to my employees after giving in to the pleas of my mother.

They said you could take the boy out of the country, but you could never get the country out of the boy. Whoever had said that was the proper definition of a dumbass, because I was out of the hick town I’d grown up in and happier than ever. It had been ten years since I’d left Dubois, and I’d had every intention not to return; however, my mom was dead set on coaxing me out of my safe haven over two thousand miles away. Despite me making sure my parents were well off and financially secure back home, they still demanded so much of me. Every holiday, they’d beg for me to come home, as if my holiday cards and overabundance of gifts and money weren’t enough. Every birthday, they’d ask to see me, as if the two decades they’d had with me before I’d left hadn’t occurred.

“I’m far too generous,” I muttered to myself as I walked toward the airport entrance.

Since it was so late at night, there were far less people than usual. After checking in my luggage, I passed by exhausted businessmen and women, and there was the occasional college student or family. I was more comfortable travelling at night, especially since first class was always far emptier during that time. I was a man who enjoyed having my own personal space, and I indulged in being alone quite often. Growing up, I had been intentionally isolated because I hadn’t been “enough” in the eyes of my peers. Their actions and treatment toward me created my comfort zone. I was alone, and that was how I liked it.

Only one person had been able to fit comfortably in my life, but she was a person of the past. I’d had to let go of her in order to move on to the path of success.

When I was twenty, I had decided I was wasting my life in Wyoming. I’d grown up with nothing—absolutely nothing. My parents had struggled to keep food on the table for their seven kids, and my dad had eventually decided that he would have rather supported his gambling addiction than his family at home. As the youngest, I’d had to watch my mother struggle to pay bills alone until each of her kids got old enough to either move out or help her. I’d gown up wearing hand-me-downs with more than a few holes and taking brown-bagged lunches with only half sandwiches to school. I’d been made fun of relentlessly for not having the luxury of having a stable family.

Damn, kids were assholes.

When I was twenty, I had decided to leave that all behind. My mother and my first love had been the only reasons I’d had to stay in that backward-ass old town of my past, and I couldn’t let them hold me back from my potential. So, with nothing but the clothes on my back and ten dollars in my pocket, I moved to New York and I never looked back. After three years of hard work and struggling, I had been able to get proper footing and ended up expanding my business into a billion-dollar empire less than five years later. Needless to say, I was a fucking beast who came from nothing and had turned that bag of rags into endless riches.

I relished in my accomplishments as I got comfortable in first class. I took off my coat and kicked back to enjoy luxury for three final hours until I was blasted back into the past. A part of me was hopeful that the town I was from had advanced and modernized itself; however, I was a realistic man. Even after a decade, I was sure I would be able to navigate my way through the town with a blindfold over my eyes. There was nothing but old people stuck in the 80s, and they were too stubborn to actually try to keep up with the times.

On the flight, I spent my time writing up emails and tasks for my employees for the short amount of time I was going to be away. I had started out as a real estate agent and ended up renovating and selling million-dollar homes to the rich. That business topped with my investments and the property I owned turned my net worth into what it was. For a man who hadn’t spent a day in college, I’d sure made it a lot further than those who were unemployed and suffering through jobs they’d always hate. Every time I thought about how miserable the people who had made me suffer were, I couldn’t help but smile.

Oh, I could not wait for them to see me.

The flight was a lot shorter than I had thought it would be. During the time, I savored the taste of top-quality scotch and enjoyed the late-night snacks they provided. Since it was so late and there weren’t many passengers, I spent most of my time flirting with the gorgeous redheaded flight attendant who was catering to my needs. While many things had changed, I was still a gentleman, and that was the only thing holding me back from taking her to the bathroom and getting to know her on a more intimate level. Instead, I took her number and promised her that I would text her when I was settled in.

Some promises weren’t made to keep, but I knew that if I contacted her months down the line, she wouldn’t hesitate to meet with the billionaire she’d met on her late-night shift.

A sense of dread filled me when the plane began to land. I knew I had my mother and God knew who else waiting for me in the airport, and I knew I was going to be smothered with affection. I had promised myself that I was never going to come back, and here I was, back in Wyoming. I took my time getting off the plane and made sure I was the last one to walk out. It was nearing three in the morning, and I just wanted to go to bed and sleep away the week I was supposed to spend there.

Much to my surprise, the only person waiting for me was my mother. My heart broke just a bit, because I had assumed everyone would be excited to see me. It had been years since I had seen my siblings, and we all barely spoke. I figured they would want to see how their baby brother looked and how well his money and the city was treating him. Instead, I was greeted by my exhausted but excited mother. She rushed over to me, and, even though she was short, she tackled me in a powerful hug. I stumbled back a few steps, but I wrapped my arms around her in turn. I felt warm, and, admittedly, a large smile made its way onto my face.

I was a mama’s boy through and through. I was happy to see that she looked less stressed and had put on some healthy weight now that she was eating properly. She had used my money to fix herself up and get to a better place, and a sense of pride filled my being. All I had wanted growing up was for her to never have to struggle again, and I had been able to make that happen for her.

She cooed over me after pulling away. “Oh, Lincoln, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I wouldn’t say that, ma,” I muttered, looking down at her.

“I was worried that city you love so much had done changed you, baby,” she said, cupping my cheeks. “You still look like the first time I laid eyes on you in the hospital.”

I felt my cheeks warm as she doted over me, and a pit made its way into my chest as I realized that she would have traded all the money I sent her just to spend more time with me. I quickly shook those thoughts and emotions from my head and placed my much larger hand over hers.

“Come on, let’s get you home. It’s too late for either of us to be out,” I told her.

She nodded and followed me to baggage claim. The entire time, she talked my ear off about how excited everyone was to see me and how I had so many nieces and nephews to meet. As she caught me up on everything, the feelings I had tried so hard to suppress came back. I didn’t understand how so much could have changed, and I hadn’t realized my siblings had accomplished so much. I had focused all my effort, energy, and attention on myself, and now I felt as if I were the one who had been left behind in the end.

I easily shoved those thoughts out as I reminded myself that none of my siblings were self-made billionaires and that I had accomplished what others only dreamed of. That thought comforted me, and I was content as I rode in the passenger side of my mom’s beat-up car.

“Why don’t you get yourself something new with the money I send?” I asked her as I looked over the car she’d had ever since I was a young boy.

“Honey, I hardly touch that money. You send so much,” she said. “I use what is enough, and I save the rest just in case something happens.”

“Mom, I send you that money to spend,” I told her. “I can always send you more when you need it.”

“Money doesn’t last forever, love,” she said, “and one day you might not have any more money to give, and then I can give it all back.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her words. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m not running out of money anytime soon.”

The rest of the car ride was silent. A part of me was worried I had said something to upset my mother, but I wasn’t going to break the silence to badger her. As she drove, I looked around to see that the little town I had grown up in hadn’t changed at all. Just as I’d thought. There was one stoplight, and the convenience store was still the same as I remembered. The only thing that had change, which came as a shocker to me, was the Callahan Family Ranch. They were the richest family in the town, from what I remembered, and yet, in their front yard there was a “Space for Lease” sign.

“Did the Callahan’s move?” I asked my mom, finally breaking the long silence.

“Oh, I forgot you didn’t know,” my mother said. “Helen and Jacob passed. Poor Harper inherited all their debt, so she’s leasing out some space and offering lodging for whoever wants a place to live.”

“They died?” I asked. I was completely shocked, because I remembered Harper’s parents loving me, and I would often spend my weekends on her family ranch to spend time with her.

“Helen took sick and just got worse for years. She passed a few months back, and poor Jacob’s heart couldn’t take it. His funeral was a few days ago,” my mom said. “I bet Harper must be a mess. You should stop by and talk to her.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I muttered, sitting back in my chair.

After I’d left without a single word to her, I knew she must have hated me. We had been dating for three years, and I’d just ghosted her. It had been easier for me to do it that way, and I knew she would not have understood how important leaving had been to me. At the time, I couldn’t have her holding me back, but I couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak firsthand, either. It had been a coward’s way out, but it had been the only thing I could have done at that time in my life.

As we drove farther away from the sign, I couldn’t stop thinking about Harper and how badly I wanted to help. Also, having a piece of her land could have benefited me and my business greatly. I made a note to contact the number on the sign when I woke up the next day. It was probably a blessing in disguise that I had come back. There were a lot of people in my New York circle who would love to get to spend some time in such a “quaint” little town.

Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be all that bad.