Twenty-Four
Tait
The silence in the truck for the ride home morphs into a comfortable, if not slightly melancholy one. Shortly after we took off a second time, Charlie discovered that they’d forgotten to pack the extra fuel for the rigs. So, rather than chance it, we turned around and headed back.
I find myself agreeing to dinner the following night, accepting hugs from James and my father, a distant wave from Duane, and an encouraging nod from Henry before I bid them farewell and head into my truck and back to the ranch.
I get to work as soon as I get back to my overheated cabin and start to upload the material from the day. I’m only a tiny bit embarrassed to find that I didn’t actually capture much. Too often, being a photographer means you’re forced to miss the beauty, because you immediately auto-analyze the lighting and angles of a landscape, rather than soak it in. Today was understandably distracting, reconnecting to this place that once was home, and it forced me to be present rather than work-minded.
Nevertheless, when I start uploading what I did capture to my laptop, I can’t help but fall in love a little bit with the terrain. Dry, dusty fields peppered with sage in one series fade into lush forests, mountainous views in another, then change back to what looks like endless flat meadows. Just a small section of Idaho looks like it could instead be three different states altogether. And this isn’t even my best work.
And then there’s the shot of Henry… I loose a sigh and then shake my head to clear it, kicking myself for sucking face with a stranger so soon into this trip. Wishing I could just take the edge off of… this… whatever all of this is.
My phone jolts me out of my trance, but I ignore Ava’s call again.
The reminder of the outside world makes me take pause, and I suddenly feel a bit spooked about the developments of the day. I should remind myself to remain cautious. Regardless of what all took place, actions speak louder than words, and at the end of the day, no one in this family has shown through action that they gave a rat’s ass about having a relationship with Ava or me.
Besides calls that turned into letters.
Besides a large sum of money that I never even knew came from them that they didn’t even care to follow up on to get credit for.
Besides the fact that you now know that many of the details surrounding the split were kept from, or misconstrued to you, and probably still are.
Besides how welcoming and genuinely kind they’ve all been since you got here.…
I roll my eyes at that inner voice and set aside those details to continue to process over the course of the trip.
On the heels of that feeling, there’s guilt over continuing to ignore Ava. All other family aside, we have always, and will always, have each other. I’ll need to get over it and quit icing her out soon.
I opt to text:
Me: Had it all out with Charlie today. I’m smoked and about to pass out. It’s all good… better than I would’ve thought, I think. Promise to call tomorrow. Love you.
The text bubbles go up and disappear a few times before she ultimately goes with:
Ava: Okay. Love you, too. Miss you.
I do the bedtime routine thing then settle in, and ultimately end up on top of the covers with my laptop, making some (pathetic) “people notes” for the day to send off to Gemma, when my phone dings again. I sigh, expecting a demand from Ava, but am surprised to see:
Henry Marcum: Breakfast at my place or yours? Thinking mine if that’s cool. Rotisserie chicken doesn’t really hit right until noon or later…
I snort, and then look out my window like a dolt, as if I could see him all the way across the pond… and, oh. I can. His light is on, and he’s pacing in his room, bare chested, looking down at something in his hand. His phone?
Warmth floods in my chest at the sight. Crap. I feel the stupid, traitorous smile plaster itself, too.
Me: I can be convinced to forgo chicken… depending on the alternative offered, the time I’d be expected, and whether or not you’re a coffee drinker ?
Oh, Jesus. He’s smiling at his phone.
Henry Marcum: Omelettes, at 7:00 a.m., and absolutely.
Me: Tits a plan, then. Sweet dreams!
Henry Marcum: Well, now that you’ve brought them up, I’m sure my dreams will be.
Me: OMG. TITS.
Henry Marcum: Yeah… I got that.
Me: IT’S, OR EVEN TIS!!!! ONE OF THOSE.
Me: You know what, I’m good with chicken. It’s going to go bad soon anyways.
Henry Marcum: Lol… Bring it and we’ll pack some for lunch. See you at 7.