19. Emmy
NINETEEN
Emmy
Ican’t help but laugh awkwardly. I mean, what do you say to someone who says it’s a terrible idea to be with you?
It’s not like I can disagree; there is too much on the line for both of us.
I don’t want to lose this job or my place to live, but I also don’t want to lose Ollie.
I am starting to care too much for him, and I can’t imagine not getting to be in his life.
He is so sweet and I have so much fun being his nanny.
“We’re going to Tilly’s in the morning for our weekly brunch. Would you like to come?” Hattie asks, breaking the silence.
“No, I’m okay, but thank you.” For once, I want to use the morning to sleep in.
“Was Christopher okay today? I didn’t get a chance to ask Ollie,” Hattie asks, frowning.
“He was fine; he just stayed longer than I thought he would, so we got a bit off schedule. He offered to stay and help with bedtime, but I didn’t know how you would feel about that, so I said I was good,” I explain.
Hattie sighs. “Yeah, I definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with him today. Thank you for being here for that.”
“I don’t mind. Ollie seems happy when he’s here, but I’m usually within earshot just in case,” I tell her.
“Sounds good. Do you need help with anything? I’ve had a long day.” Hattie yawns.
“Nope, just putting away Ollie’s toys and I’m headed to bed. Are you having dinner?” I ask. “There’s soup leftover, or I can whip something up.”
“No, I’m okay. I’m too tired. I’ll eat extra brunch in the morning,” Hattie jokes.
She heads back upstairs as I gather the last of Ollie’s toys.
He usually picks things up himself, but with Christopher here late, I forgot to remind him.
I’m glad he got to sleep okay, but now I don’t know where I stand with Hattie.
She doesn’t seem to want to talk about last night, which is okay, but it sort of leaves me in limbo wondering.
I guess it’s for the best; it isn’t like anything can happen between us.
Not without the chance of ruining our living arrangement. I guess I need to accept that.
When I wake, it’s a little after 1:00 p.m., which is weird because I never sleep that late.
But I tossed and turned for most of the night, unable to get comfortable or quiet my brain.
I guess it’s okay to have a lazy day every once in a while anyway.
I check my phone, and there aren’t any missed messages, so I yawn and get out of bed, heading to the bathroom.
I hear the front door open when I reach the kitchen and realize that it must be Hattie and Ollie back from brunch.
“Oh! Hey, sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be in pajamas,” Hattie says, walking into the kitchen. She’s holding a handful of muffins and plops them on the island.
“I just got up, actually,” I admit.
“That’s good! You deserve to sleep in. I don’t know what I’d do around here without you.” She blushes. “Anyway, these are from Lina. She said the ones with a red sticker have weed in them, and if you aren’t a pot smoker, to give them to me.”
“You smoke pot?” I ask; it’s too early in the morning to hide my shock. I take a sip of coffee.
“I don’t smoke really, but I’ll partake in the occasional edible. But only if it’s made by Lina. She grows her own weed, and it’s the only kind I trust,” Hattie explains.
“She grows her own?” I raise another eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah. She has plants behind her house; she loves showing people if you’re ever curious. Just don’t take Ollie, obviously; he doesn’t know Lina does that. They’re just her ‘special adult plants’ for now,” Hattie explains, holding up two air quotes.
“Ah, that makes sense. Yeah, I wouldn’t even eat this with him home. Where is he?” I just realized it is unusually quiet. Is he reading one of his new books?
“Tilly wanted to take him to help in the garden today. Something about an Auntie Tilly day, so I’m on my own.” Hattie smiles. “I was going for a little bike ride around the property.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.” I agree.
“Do you want to come with me?” Hattie asks.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—” I start, but Hattie stops me.
“Just go get dressed, and we can go.” She waves me off and waits for me to start going.
“Okay.” I laugh, putting down my coffee, and I head for my bedroom.
I manage to pull together a pair of leggings and a sweater I’m not the fondest of, but it’s still cute.
It is chillier today, so I’ll need my vest too.
I don’t have too many hiking clothes with me; I can’t remember the last time I went biking in Seaside.
Wait a second, I don’t even have a bike here.
How am I supposed to go with her? Does she think I can fit on Ollie’s bicycle?
“Ready?” Hattie looks at me expectantly.
“Sure, but uh, what bicycle am I using?” I ask as I slip my sneakers on.
“I just grabbed Tilly’s bike; she said you can use it,” Hattie says.
I follow her outside, and we put on our helmets before getting on the bikes.
She’s faster than I am, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself the reason is for letting her go ahead of me.
That way it isn’t like I am trying to stare at her ass.
We ride along the edge of the orchard perimeter until we stop at the edge of the forest. She gestures at me to ride next to her.
“There’s a path in the forest, but it can be bumpy. If it’s too much or you need to stop, just call out. It might be too narrow for us to ride side by side,” she explains.
“Got it!” I ride behind her and realize how beautiful the forest is.
The trees are mostly bare, just long tree trunks you can’t even see the top of.
But most of them are so close to others that you don’t realize it.
The brown, yellow, and orange leaves are scattered randomly among the forest. I haven’t had much of a chance to explore the property, but that is clearly about to change.
The forest looks like an artist’s painting.
Everything is made within the same palette of warm colors, painting the scene before us.
Hattie stops, pulling off to the side, and I follow her.
It only just occurs to me; this is how the start of, like, a dozen scary movies go.
We both pull our bikes alongside us deeper into the forest.
“Um, we aren’t going to get murdered here, are we?” I ask quietly.
“No, this isn’t a scary movie.” She chuckles.
“Well, this is how a lot of them start.” I grimace.
“True, but not really that many recent ones. I think they’re more about creepy kids or dolls.” Hattie shrugs. I shiver, and she smiles. “Do you not like scary movies?”
“They’re not my favorite,” I admit. “I can handle the Final Destination movies, and that’s it.”
“Those aren’t even horror movies; those are more of psychological thrillers, if anything. You’re seeing someone with anxiety’s worst fears being played out for them,” Hattie says casually.
“Uh.” I don’t know how to go on from there.
Hattie stops to face me. “I promise I’m not here to murder you, and I will not talk about horror movies until we’re not in the forest.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “Whoa! Is that a de—”
Hattie’s hand covers my mouth as I try to exclaim, seeing a baby deer in front of us. It’s about thirty feet ahead, eating something in the leaves. It spots us and stares for a few moments before running off. Hattie waits until it’s far enough away to take her hand off my mouth.
“They spook easily, especially the babies,” she explains.
I just nod. She takes a bag out of the basket in front of her bike. Handing me one, I peek in it as she rests her bike against a tree and motions for me to come and sit. Inside are the muffins Lina must have made, but not the weed ones.
“I didn’t think you had breakfast; I brought your coffee too.” Hattie pulls out a thermos.
“Wow, thank you,” I say.
“I like to come here to think sometimes. I used to come here a lot with Benny. I’m pretty sure she gave me a tour of every inch of this place. We used to ride a lot when Ollie was little. He had a seat on the back of mine, and he loved it,” Hattie says, smiling.
“I wish I had things like that with my dad,” I admit. “I have them with my mom back home. She worked a lot, but she always made time for us, and I know my brother and I were lucky in that way.”
“I hope Ollie will see it that way. I don’t want him to think of me as the mom who was always at work.” Hattie sighs.
“Something my mom taught me early on was that, for us at least, it wasn’t about the number of memories but the quality of them.
She worked, but when she had time with us, it was undivided, and we always felt special.
From what I’ve seen, you definitely give that to Ollie.
And trust me, with the way he talks about you? He knows you hung the moon,” I explain.
“Really?” Her eyes are brimming with tears, but she wipes them away when she thinks I’m not looking.
“Trust me, as far as moms go, Ollie definitely is one of the lucky ones.” I smile.
“Do you mind if I ask, how come you weren’t close with your dad?” Hattie asks.
It’s a fair question, and I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be close with my dad. It was just complicated. Something I now regret is that I won’t have a chance to fix things.
“I don’t have a good answer for that. I guess it was hard because my mom moved us so far away. I think we were closer when I was little, but then he sort of acted like it was my job to contact him. But I was just a kid, and I don’t think that should’ve fallen on me.” I sigh.
“I get that. I think it definitely should be on the grown-up. So, you didn’t contact him at all?”
“No, it was just like we didn’t talk outside of birthdays, Father’s Days and the occasional Facebook interaction,” I say.
“That makes sense. It must be harder in a way to grieve someone you don’t know how you feel about,” she says.
“Yeah. I mean, wow, that’s a great way to put it. Like, I loved him because he was my dad. And it was, of course, sad, but I don’t know if I’m the wrong amount of sad,” I admit.
“There’s no perfect way to grieve. If you’re ever up for it, I’d talk to Bells. I know she might feel similar, considering she didn’t know Benny until she left her the orchard,” Hattie explains.
I take a bite of the muffin, nodding. She has a good point.