The Achilles Heel Read Online Free Page B

Wade from puking in Mama
     D’s new Cadillac. The blustering air charging through the windows restricted any amount
     of talking between the four of us and gave me some thinking time to reflect on the
     last few months. I needed to concoct possible ideas regarding my retirement and eventual
     vanishing act. Usually there’s a progression of rules one follows when retiring, but
     having never been one for following rules, I’m just not ready to drop this bomb yet.
     I’ve been planning the escape to my house in St. Croix in the U.S Virgin Islands for
     some time now, and apparently, that’s as far as I’ve gotten. For the first time in
     a decade, I have no plan. I’m hung-over, about to really piss some people off, leaving
     the states indefinitely, and haven’t packed a single thing, but damn, it felt good!
    When the woodsy landscape became familiar, I knew we were close. The final stretch
     of a tour can significantly age all the parts of your body. The last tour for me was
     no exception, but once I inhaled the sweet smell of cherry trees, I relaxed. Finally,
     I was home.
    Positioned at the head of the cul-de-sac in a classically charming neighborhood, with
     massive maple trees lining the street, is where my early 1900’s Tutor sits. From the
     very first walk through, I knew I’d grow old in this house. Last winter I started
     renovations in the garage, and those turned out so well, I just kept going across
     the backyard with a new outdoor patio. Throwing a good party is my business, and the
     amount of work and people that seven acres of yard takes to keep up is daunting. The
     contractors laid a huge concrete patio which was stained and stamped to look like
     a hardwood floor. A new infinity pool was put in the middle of the entertaining space,
     with a stone retaining wall towering above, and the mist of a constant waterfall sprinkles
     the deck reminding me of my second home‌—‌the ocean. When finalizing plans for the
     backyard, I was blown away to see how many options I had just on the concrete. I realized
     I was in way over my head, and spent a week on the internet looking at different yards,
     trying to find a style I liked best. I printed myself out a picture and then hired
     someone to landscape it for me. Growing up on farmland in the bayou taught me hard
     work, not design aesthetics, but I did help in every bit of the construction, and
     my daddy would have been proud.
    My home in Nashville, like the rest of my life, has become a three-ring spectacle;
     all by my own doing, but done just the same. Maids, gardeners, chefs, and assistants
     are in a constant rotation through my kitchen, down my hallways, in my yard, and consistently
     around every next corner. I realize this is a first world problem, and one I certainly
     never thought would infuriate me as much as it does, but it’s the reason I’m leaving.
     I want to open my curtains to the silence and spectacular of an ocean sunrise, sit
     by a pool, strum my guitar, or just disappear into the tides without explaining why
     I’m going, and when I’ll be back. This breakneck pace has finally worn me out. I’m
     ready to take my foot off the accelerator. It’s time to just cruise.
    Mama D pulled into the driveway, up to the garage and said, “Okay baby, home sweet
     home.”
    Wade was snoring in the backseat next to me, and I couldn’t resist. I licked my finger,
     softly stuck it inside his ear, and swirled it around a bit. When his eyelids flickered
     with consciousness, I leaned in and whispered, “Mornin’ sunshine.”
    “Get away from me,” he grumbled.
    “Looks like I went home with your wife, and made it all the way to my front door!” I teased him.
    Wade opened one eye and looked around, then he punched me in the arm and smiled, pleased
     he inflicted some kind of pain on me.
    I grabbed my bags from the trunk, kissed Mama D and thanked her again for picking
     us up and bringing me home.
    “Come on by for supper tonight