Wesley
“ L et’s do something,” I said from the kitchen table to Avery. Like most days, she was seated on the floor in my living room working through a song on her guitar.
I was supposed to be doing homework, but I couldn’t stop watching her.
She would alternate between playing and re-listening to the song playing in her ear.
Her focus never wavered. It had been two months since they moved to Caper, and I’d noticed how she’d easily sit there for two or three hours working on the same song.
“I’m already doing something.” She didn’t bother to look my way.
“You could teach me.” I tried a new angle. Maybe if I showed interest in what she was doing then we could find common ground?
I had been trying. Just last week I had Mom dig out her CDs to listen to, and I fell asleep listening to something new each night. ABBA. Pearl Jam. Patsy Cline. If Avery just let me have a conversation with her, I’d prove I could speak her language—or at least attempt to.
“No thanks.”
Abandoning my homework, I moved to the couch, picking up one of Hudson’s books from Mom’s shelf.
I could have sworn she owned every version of everything he’d ever published.
I liked Hudson and I liked how he treated Mom even more.
He never made her cry and always showed up when she called.
She’d been working hard and seemed more tired than usual, so it was a relief to have him around.
Like him or not, I wasn’t planning on reading. I sat and listened, swishing my foot to the music as I lazily flipped pages.
After fifteen minutes, Avery huffed and glared at me over my shoulder. “Could you stop that?”
“What? I’m reading in my house.” I asked, feigning innocence. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I can feel you listening. It makes me itchy.” She pointed at my hands. “And if you were reading, the book wouldn’t be upside down. Go somewhere else.”
“But that’s boring. If you won’t do something with me, at least take pity and let me listen.”
“As if whatever you have planned is interesting.”
“You know what? I was excited to have you guys move next door. At least your dad is cool. But you sit around and do nothing. Maybe you’re the boring one, not me.” I didn’t mean to say it, but I was on the verge of giving up and the words spilled out.
She looked like she wanted to kill me. I lived for it, a surge of energy zipping up my spine. Finally, she was listening to me. “If I agree to do something today, will you leave me alone?”
“If you agree to do something, I promise you’ll never want me to leave you alone ever again.”
I waited for her to reach for her headphones to block me out. But she asked, “And what exciting adventure do you have planned for us?”
“Have you ever ridden a horse?”
A whoop split the air as Avery rode up beside me.
The stables were five hundred feet away and I wasn’t going to let her beat me—not when she’d only been riding horses for five months.
She fell plenty the first few weeks, but she dusted herself off and kept going, refusing to give up.
I pushed to reach her, but she got to the gate seconds before me.
Sweat beaded her brow and a wild grin stretched her mouth.
Wispy strands of hair breaking free from her ponytail, framing her face. I lived for those moments.
“You shouldn’t go easy on me, Gaflin,” she said, swinging her leg over her usual mare’s—Lady Bug—dappled back.
“I promise you, I’m not.” I respected her too much for that.
“Good.”
We led our horses inside to untack and groom them. We worked in silence as I got up the nerve to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of my mind.
“Does this mean we’re finally friends?” Simple but, to me, being Avery’s friend was something worth fighting for. I’d never worked to be someone’s friend before.
This wasn’t born from convenience; it was earned.
She tilted her head back and forth as she brushed. “No. I’m just using you for your horses.”
“I think I can live with that.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. We don’t stay anywhere much longer than this.” Her eyes fell to where she was using a curry comb on Lady Bug’s shoulder. For a moment, sadness seemed to leak through the cracks of her guarded expression.
“I guess I need to step up my game then, if I’m going to convince you I’m not going anywhere, even when you leave,” I said, understanding that she’d rather be lonely than get hurt.
We finished, and during the walk back she popped her headphones in. Her volume was so loud the songs would leak out. Pink Floyd. Fleetwood Mac. The Stones. She had started to embrace my world, but I was still waiting to be let into hers.
I desperately wanted in.
In the evenings, Mom and Hudson would return around the same time we did, all of us meeting for dinner before Avery and Hudson headed home.
“There you two are. You were almost late, dinner should be done in ten,” Hudson said, standing in the door connecting the living room to the back mudroom that was strewn with dusty boots and gear.
“It’s not like you should be talking. You both were out late last week. It’s like you’re dating or something. But seriously, if you are, can you just tell us already instead of sneaking around,” Avery said as she kicked out of her boots and set them neatly to the side.
I’d been curious too. There were only so many conclusions you could draw when your parents disappeared together for hours on end. But I was too preoccupied with the mystery of Avery to pay close attention or worry.
Mom walked over to join Hudson. “Oh, I guess I can understand why you’d think that.” Her voice was light but didn’t have any strength behind it.
“If you are, that’s great!” I said in a rush.
Hudson was always helping Mom out, and though she’d dated in the past, no one had ever been there for her the way Hudson was. And selfishly, I thought that if they were dating then Avery would stay longer.
But then I saw the way their eyes found each other. Our parents had these silent conversations, and by that point, I was getting the hang of interpreting them. Resignation. Bargaining.
“No, nothing like that,” Mom said. Her chin quivered. “I—” The rest of the words caught in her throat.
Hudson’s hand landed on hers, ready to step in and carry the weight when she needed it. “Why don’t we all take a seat and talk?”
With all of us gathered around the dining room table, he told us about her breast cancer in the same way he wrote his stories.
He didn’t try to paint it as anything it wasn’t.
It was Stage 2. Hudson had moved him and Avery to Caper so he could help with appointments and be around when she didn’t have enough strength to handle everything by herself.
Mom was starting chemo next week. It would be a major step, and with the side effects, us kids would need to step up and help.
It was the first time I remember being scared. That moment when you realized you were growing up. When your childhood ended and you left it trailing behind you in the rearview.
Dinner was silent and awkward. We all picked solemnly at our burned food.
After, I headed up to my room and out through the window onto the roof that allowed me to look out over our acres of land.
A few minutes passed before I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps on the carpet.
I expected to see Mom, but it was Avery, who didn’t hesitate before climbing out and settling next to me.
She dug in her pocket and produced her Discman and headphones. Then she did what I’d been waiting months for her to do. Reaching toward me, she held out one of the earbuds, inviting me into her world when I couldn’t handle my own.
I took it gingerly. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might need a friend.”