Nine
Tait
Once I get inside the cabin, I immediately set to unpacking. When I turned thirteen, my mother gifted me with The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens. I know, I know, very moving stuff—just what every thirteen-year-old dreams of. I only ever skimmed over it, but I memorized the main ideas in case she ever prompted me. “Do First Things, First” has been my go-to life hack since.
Which is why I immediately set to settling and getting familiar with my surroundings. Having spatial awareness, first, is what grounds me. Once I unpack my equipment, clothes, and toiletries, I decide to rearrange the living room area a bit to better highlight the giant steel and glass doors that look back out over the pond. The way the furniture currently sits, it leaves a gaping area in the middle of the room.
Space is great, but not empty or unusable space…
Deflecting again.
It’s a habit I’ve accrued, fitting myself into a space and immediately making it my own. I try to find the best in it, highlight the good and the beautiful. It’s something I absolutely cannot do here, though. I cannot ignore the hurt that this family has caused by their apathy, simply because it feels nice and looks better that way right now. After all, you can hide all the wires in some cute aesthetic way, throw them in some well-fitting basket, but if you unplug them altogether, things are no longer functional.
A wave of reality balloons its way through me and I have to sit down. I feel like I’ve been watching my life over the last twenty-four hours from underwater—clear enough to make out the shape of what’s going on, but not exactly cognizant, either.
As soon as I exited the truck, I thought my legs were going to buckle beneath me. Luckily, that feeling was immediately replaced by annoyance when Henry abandoned me to face everyone alone. I’d expected his looming presence to help give me a reason to hurry off to wherever my place was and get set up. I had no idea they’d lend me my own vehicle. Plus, he’d been privy to my sweaty hands and anxiety, so I’d hoped he’d stay and be my buffer.
The exchange replays in my mind…
A gangly boy—probably as tall as Henry but half his body weight—gives me an emphatic, whole-body wave, taking the porch steps in two strides before he envelopes me in a bear hug… or, more like what I would imagine a giraffe hug would feel like. Grace meets me with, well, grace… har har.
I don’t blame her for my mother and father’s split, just like I don’t blame “the other woman” entirely for mine. It always takes two, and we’re all adults who don’t require anything of one another at this point, other than mutual respect. But, she offers a warm and kind smile, eyes glossy.
“It is so great to finally meet you,” the boy says. You have no idea how long we have wanted this. As soon as I found out I had sisters out there. Tell me everything about California. Do you know how to surf? I’m kidding, I’m sorry. The production crew is normally here regaling me with tales of the Golden State, but it’s off-season and I’m bored of all these same faces. You are beautiful, by the way. OH! I’m Grady!” Grady says without a breath.
“Th-thank you. It is really nice to meet you, too. I’m Tait. I’m really looking forward to photographing this place.”
“We are really grateful that you’re here,” Grace says softly.
Grateful? That catches me off guard. I should’ve said I’m grateful for the opportunity to work here. I didn’t do anything for any one of them by coming here, so why grateful ?
“Grady, let’s get Tait a truck and let her go get settled,” Grace says, eyes staying on me.
Grady leaps back up the steps in about one-and-a-half strides this time and heads inside. Grace keeps me under her gaze, assessing. She’s very pretty, kindness exuding from her and Grady both. The smile lines all around her eyes and bracketing her mouth are deep, her chestnut hair corkscrew-curly. The furthest thing from the dark, icy beauty that my mother possessed.
“Charlie’s up on the ridge today. He didn’t know you were coming, otherwise I can promise you, he would be here himself. He’s going to be so happy to see you, and so happy you decided to surprise him.”
I feel my face smile awkwardly, so I look down at my feet. She’s being perfectly polite, not pushy, and clearly wants to welcome me… I manage to say “Thank you,” stiffly.
Just then, Grady emerges with the keys. I hold up my hand, desperate for him to understand, and— oh thank God he gets it— he tosses them promptly.
“The fleet trucks are in the stone building over there. If you stay on this road, you’ll come to a pond with two cabins; yours is the second,” he shouts to my retreating form.
It’s then that I notice that a secondary stone barn structure has been built out behind the main house. The driveway has been continued on over to it. It matches the original barn almost exactly, but since I know the original one to be the stables, I figure that the other must be the garage.
I march in the direction of the barn, clicking the button to find out which truck is mine, get in, and do my best not to peel out.
It’s not until later that I realize that I didn’t manage a goodbye, or even a brief chat about my outline for the photography. I only knew that I needed to catch my breath and get back into my own space.
So now, here I am. Sitting on the leather couch, looking out the giant steel sliding doors at the pond, attempting to catch that breath still, when…
“I’M… COMING… OUT! I’M COMIIING OUT!!!”
“I’M… COMING… OUT! I’M COMIIIING OUT!!!”
… plays from somewhere around me. I briefly wonder if this is the beginning of the psychotic break/aka shit-splosion Ava promised I was headed for before I hear a knock, knock, and a female voice shouts, “Sorry!!! I forgot about the doorbell! I know it can be jarring.”
Still in shock, I rise rigidly and open the door… only to stare into a face that looks almost identical to mine, but in, like, fifteen years.
Same dark blonde hair, same olive skin tone… the eyes are different, though. Hers are a striking denim blue, the same shade as Ava’s.
“Hi!” she says brightly. “It’s about time we got you out here, girl. Do you remember me?”
Her smile is infectious as she bounces in place. I feel my face smile back, but I’m still suffering from the shock of my mental breakdown à la Diana Ross, and she continues before I get a chance.
“It’s okay, honey. I forgot what I went to the grocery store for this morning, so I wouldn’t either. I’m your aunt LeighAnn. Can I give you a hug?” And she does.
It’s been so long since I’ve been hugged that I naturally fall into it. Don’t get me wrong, I have hugged, but maybe it’s only an older sibling thing—we are the ones who do the hugging.
The last hug that someone held me in was when I ran into my ex-mother-in-law at the grocery store in my former town. I, of course, looked like trash (because one never runs into anyone one knows when they are put together, only when they are mid three-day-eating/sci-fi-series-binge, still wearing a stain of the previous night’s wine and still picking Oreo gunk out of one’s teeth). I was only going out to replenish the necessary supplies. I was also clearly reflecting how I felt internally, and she held me tight enough for me to burst into tears in the middle of the chip aisle.
I moved shortly after that. And discovered grocery delivery.
LeighAnn is holding me that same way now, and it elicits the same response. I feel my throat thicken, and I break the hug before I let myself fall apart.
“LeighAnn, of course I remember you. You taught me how to French braid in the same day you taught me how to shoot a compound bow,” I say, and the smile that surfaces is almost genuine. LeighAnn is seven years younger than Charlie, and was always my favorite.
Her grin warms, and I invite her in to sit down.
“No, no, I can’t sit still for long anyways. Once Grady texted and told me you were here, I had to see you and catch up. And I thought I could show you around and get you reacquainted with the place. A lot has changed, but then again, a lot hasn’t. Fancy a walk?”
Noting that she didn’t say anything about making me join for dinner, I decide that this is my safest bet to appease everyone. My instincts aren’t picking up any bad vibes from her, but I guess that she’s trying to feel me out as much as she wants to get me reacquainted. Knowing what I know of this family, I suspect that I’ll need to quickly squash anyone’s suspicions about my motives and goals from the jump. LeighAnn seems like a good enough place to start.
“Sure, let me change my shoes.”
“Sneakers might be comfy but you’ll want some decent shit-kickers for around here.”
I smile and quickly lace on my hiking boots. Shit-kickers they are not, but they’ll do.
We head out in a silence that’s anything but comfortable… LeighAnn keeps switching up her pace, but I don’t know where to start with the conversation, so I am determined to sit back and let her take the lead. After about five awkward minutes, she begins.
“So—our Tater-Tot is all grown up, huh? What are you, twenty-eight now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The nickname was always the worst, and still is, but I refrain from telling her as much. She’d often watched Ava and I, and was always around from what I can remember, so I’m sure she’s just trying to remind me of that and get us on comfortable ground.
“Don’t you have a birthday coming up?”
“Yep. Twenty-nine in a little under a month.”
“That’s right. You share a birthday with my daughter, actually. She’ll be twenty-one in October. Lucy. She’s at Boise State.”
“Wow, congrats—what’s she studying?”
“She’s doing the pre-vet program. She was a lot like you growing up—could spend all day with the horses. Have you gone to the stables yet?”
“No. I, uh, just got here and wanted to get set up.”
“Of course. Well, we have a herd of wild horses that’s been spotted over by the eastern ridge and valley lately—they’d be awesome to photograph.”
Oh good, she knows what I am here to do, there’s my pivot point. “That’d be amazing. Thank you for the tip.”
“No problem. I already know you don’t need my advice, though. Your work is beautiful. I found Ava on Facebook a few years back and have seen some of what she’s shared. And her family. That husband of hers is adorable—the baby even more so.”
“You and Ava are Facebook friends?” I struggle to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
“Uhhh, yeah. She never mentioned it? I think she and Grady are, too? They’ve done some messaging back and forth.…”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I manage to say quickly, hoping I glazed over my confusion. The hurt that I feel is quickly overshadowed by the fact that it’s obvious that Ava wanted this—this reunion—way more than she let on. She must’ve lied out of thinking that I’d chastise her or judge her? I don’t exactly know, but leaving me here with egg on my face is still pretty un-sisterly. Especially when she knew I was coming here. Did she know about our cousin, too? Actually, what the fuck?
“Tait?”
My head jerks up and I realize that I’ve stopped walking. “Sorry—I spaced.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s probably overwhelming being back here, too. I’m just glad that you finally are,” she says sympathetically.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion, the overwhelm, but the familiarity and earnestness has my nerves flaring again. The fact that everyone is being warm to me is utterly confounding.
“I’m sorry, but I need something to be clear, here: I came here to do a job. I have an author looking for inspiration for one of her stories—I’m not looking to add a chapter in mine. I’m good on all of that. I really appreciate the kindness, but we haven’t been family for over twenty years, LeighAnn, and I’m not looking to be now that it’s suddenly convenient for all of you.” I turn on a heel and start heading back to the cabin.
“Tait—wait. Will you wait, please?”
I stop and look at her.
“Tait, I understand what you must think—of all of us, I do. But Charlie made it explicitly clear that we needed to give you guys space. And with everything that happened, we just thought we were being respectful of the… situation.” Her hands flail while she speaks, a habit of mine, too. “I won’t say more than that, other than I don’t approve of his methods and have made that abundantly clear over the years. But the idiot had good intentions. He didn’t know how to navigate his way through by the time things got too far away from him, but it’s always been obvious to the rest of us that he’s never stopped thinking about you girls.”
And then I snap. “How? How has that been made obvious? What has he done? He writes the occasional letter—to Ava. We’ve had about three phone conversations since I was seven, and he came to see us zero times.” I make a zero shape on one hand for emphasis.
“Tait, your mother wouldn’t allow it.”
“My mother has been dead for over four years, LeighAnn. What about then? Couldn’t afford a plane ticket? What stopped him? Seems to me that he got so busy building a new, beautiful life for himself here that reconnecting with anything that reminded him that he tarnished the great Logan legacy just became too inconvenient for him.”
I can see her fighting to say more, but she doesn’t argue with me further. My chest is falling and rising with anger, swiftly followed by bitterness at this anger. I don’t want it, damnit. I jerk my shoulders in a shrug, like I can shake off the heaviness.
LeighAnn lands on her words. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Just know that we all have suffered, even when we’ve triumphed. You’re young, but life, love… none of it is ever black or white, all good or evil. There’s always more to the picture,” she says.
This is nothing that I don’t already know. I had to realize that parents are people, too, at a much younger age than most. My mother wasn’t only my mother—that wasn’t the entirety of her identity. And her struggles made that part of her life more difficult. She was an addict, she was angry, she was funny, she was sad, she was vain, she struggled with her insecurities. She just… struggled. And she never fully recovered from her heartbreak. I learned before the age of twelve that I would need to be responsible for my own life’s direction, and that I could love her without letting myself be dragged down, or blaming her for some missing components in my life.
Ava struggles more with her anger toward our mom. She’s always resented that Mom’s bitterness took precedence in our lives. I, on the other hand, hold tight to the knowledge that she was there, where Charlie was not. I find the good in our memories, adjust my mental exposure to them to enhance their colors where I can. My grandparents (her parents) weren’t around long after we came back, but I was able to make memories with them, too. We didn’t have some epic family dynamic in any aspect, good or bad. Sometimes, sure, Mom didn’t come home until morning, and once in a while she would be passed out on the couch—likely more from the exhaustion of being a single parent over anything substance-related. But she never hit us or screamed at us, she never subjected us to weird boyfriends. She also didn’t take much interest in what we were doing, but I think that’s part of what has made Ava and I self-reliant. I always thought that when we grew up, had babies… that then, maybe being a grandma would connect us in a new way, that we would get a chance to bond better. But, she died, and I never got the chance.
Charlie, on the other hand, never even tried.
“I just hope we’ll have the opportunity to get to know each other a bit,” she continues, softly. “And here’s the thing. You’re here anyway, right? I know it’s probably a bit brazen for me to say… but whatever comes of it, you’re not going to be able to compartmentalize this entire trip, so you may as well dig in. Lord knows that Charlie will be a lot less pushy than me, so I just hope you’ll give him a chance,” she says, and turns to leave.
“LeighAnn…”
“Yes?”
“Does—does Charlie know that I’m here yet?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart.”
“How old is Grady?” I decide to get as many of the barebones facts as I can, hoping not to be caught off guard again.
“He’s twenty-one, also,” she says. But I don’t miss the subtle change in her body language. She doesn’t care for being the one answering questions. Interesting.
“And they don’t have any other kids, then? Any other cousins I should know about?”
At that, she folds her arms and closes off completely. After considering her reply, she says, “They don’t, no.”
Ah, so when I start to interrogate it is unwelcome, I see. Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one under the spotlight, here, the only one that has to answer for my choices.
“Okay. Please tell Grace and Grady thank you for the invite, but I’m exhausted and just want to catch up on sleep. I’ll head to the house after breakfast tomorrow to talk about the timeline and where to get started with work.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be back to do a real tour though, soon.” She offers me a sad smile before she heads to her car and on her way.
I head back into the house, collapse on the bed without even taking off my shoes, and fall asleep.