French Lick wasn’t the kind of place people escaped from easily. It settled into you—into your clothes, your lungs, your expectations. Growing up there, you learned quick what you had and what you didn’t. We didn’t have much. My dad worked hard when he could, but things weren’t always steady, and when they weren’t, you felt it in the quiet ways—empty cupboards, tension at the dinner table, the kind of silence that stuck around too long. I didn’t talk much as a kid. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. Words didn’t come easy, but basketball did. There was this old hoop behind the house—crooked, nailed onto a board that had seen better days. The rim leaned just enough to mess with your shot, but I liked it that way. If you could make it there, you could make it anywhere. School wasn’t much different from home. Small. Everybody knew everybody. Some people thought I’d amount to something because of basketball. Others didn’t think much at all. I didn’t blame them. I kept my head down, did what I had to do, and counted the hours until I could get back to the court. That’s where Serene comes in. She wasn’t loud either, which is probably why I noticed her. In a place where gossip traveled faster than anything else, she somehow stayed out of it. Sat a few rows over in class, always paying attention, always steady. I don’t think we said more than a handful of words to each other. After that, she started showing up now and then. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn’t. She’d tell me about her classes, her plans—she wanted something beyond French Lick, same as me, but she talked about it differently. Life at home didn’t suddenly get better. If anything, it got harder before it got easier. There were nights I didn’t sleep much, mornings I didn’t want to get out of bed. By the time senior year rolled around, people started talking more seriously about what I might do next. College, maybe. Graduation came quicker than I expected. When they called my name, I walked across that stage thinking about everything it took just to get there. After the ceremony, I found her outside. Serene was standing off to the side, holding her diploma like it meant something more than paper. Maybe it did. We didn’t have a big plan. No grand speech or dramatic moment. Just two people who understood what it meant to start with less and still want more. We got married not long after that. Nothing fancy. Small, simple. The kind of thing people in French Lick understood. Some folks probably thought we were too young, moving too fast.