Some of y'all might still remember me, and a few of y'all might still be trying to forget me.  But, whatever, you can't keep someone like me quiet.  Trust me, many have tried.

 

If your memory is foggy, I'll give you a quick rundown.  I was married to a man, Farley, who ran around town, spreading his love like Oprah Winfrey gave out gifts to her audience.   "Here's some for you, and some for you.  Everybody gets some Farley loving."  And, apparently, everyone in the whole county was aware.  Minus one resident ... me.  And I tried.  I mean like I really tried with Farley, but in the end, I realized it's not a marriage when only one is willing to try.

 

After much soul searching, I packed him up and sent his cheating ass back to his mother.  

 

Enter Dougie Wilcox.  He was the kind of guy who represented everything that a high school girl dreams off.  He was a bad boy, smoked, dropped out of high school, talked the talk and walked the walk.  A bona-fide broke James Dean.

 

Trouble was, I met him when we were both in our thirties.  His bad boy charm lasted about three weeks.  Then he was just some guy who I kind of had to take care of.  What was mine was ours, and what was his was strictly off limits.  

 

It was my own damn fault.  I should have ignored his rules.  I should have helped myself to one of his pricey imported beers ... which by the way, I bought nine times out of ten.  But I didn't.   Don't we learn from our mistakes?  Some do.  Some are destined to repeat the cycle.

 

So, one day my coworker, Rita, mentions that Dougie said something about moving away.  News to me, but that inner voice says, "Miranda, go check it out."  Twenty minutes later, Dougie is chucking shit into his truck and speeding off.  Oh, the best part of this, he took the DVD player but left his son, Waylon.  His thirteen-year old son who had taken up residence on my couch.  The same kid who flipped me off when he thought I couldn't see him, greeted me with stony silences when we were in the room together.  

 

That ended up being a blessing in disguise.  It turns out, I like the kid.  He's smart, funny and is low maintenance.   Everything his daddy isn't. 

 

We're getting close to where we need to be.  I start hanging out with my neighbor, Aaron Earl, who I would have bet didn't have two nickles to rub together, but is actually well off. He's kind of a hippie prophet who cries over Hallmark movies.

 

Then there's this girl, Missy Toblerone, a "bestie" in tenth grade, who ended up being my arch nemesis.  She married the richest man in Patterson County.  Justin Toblerone was his name.  I never cared for him.  He was as prickly as a cactus and just as endearing.  Several years ago, Justin just disappeared.  No word, no note, no goodbye.  No way.  Missy cried crocodile tears for about a week, then she's out buying a nice little BMW and sexy clothes.  

 

The general consensus seemed to be Justin ran off.  No body, no crime.  I didn't buy that for one minute.  Justin didn't run away.  He was close to his parents.  No way in hell, would he put them through that.

 

But, I had my own set of problems to deal with.  I kind of threatened the town pervert with a pair of scissors, found his murdered body a couple of days later and been the prime suspect in his tragic end.  

 

Here we go again.  Something bad happens, you've gotta look for that silver lining.  The sheriff, Mitch Danning, started checking up on me.  First as a suspect, then as a friend, then, well, someone who loves me and wants to take care of me.

 

I ended up getting kidnapped by Missy, who shot this young deputy in the leg to prove how serious she was about our "friendship".  She took the whole best friends forever thing way too seriously.  We ended up fighting where the perverts body was found.  She was yelling at me, I was yelling at her and yada, yada, yada, when all of the sudden she blurts out how she didn't really kill Justin, she just stood there and watched him die.  She had the pervert dispose of the body.  But he decided to keep a little insurance and use it to blackmail her.  So she killed the pervert.  Clear as mud, right?

 

Thankfully, Mitch believed my innocence from the early stages.  He allowed for my hard headed tendencies.  He loves me, warts and all. Sounds awesome, right?  It is.  I love that he wants to take care of me.  I really do, but there's a part of me that just can't let go of the reins.  It took me a long time to go from the Miranda I used to be to the woman I am now.  

 

I have nothing to prove to anybody ... except myself.  I'm my own worst critic.  I mean it.  That bitch in the mirror, man, there are days I just can't even describe the dressing down she doles out.  But she's usually right.

 

But, before I can think about moving on with life, I have one thing I have to do.  I need to find out what happened to Dougie Wilcox.  The police found his car and a little bit of blood, but nothing else.  All signs point to Missy.  She thinks it's pathetic I'm trying to find him.

 

It's eating Waylon up.  I need to find out for him.  And, maybe I need to know for myself as well.