11. Chapter Eleven
It took until the Idaho border for the caffeine to fully kick in and my anxiety to completely dissipate. While my improving relationship with Grey had worked wonders for my stress, I still felt some lingering nervousness about the trip and stepping so far outside of my comfort zone. Just as I was relaxing and appreciating the fields passing outside my window, my phone rang.
I answered without looking at the screen, assuming it would be Tory wanting an update on our drive. Instead, an all-too familiar nasally male voice greeted me.
“Audrey, where do I find the most up-to-date trainings for new products?” My supervisor’s tone was gruff and clipped, hinting at building frustration.
I sat up with a jolt, causing my seatbelt to lock and dig into my shoulder. Once the locking mechanism released, I shifted my feet from where they were resting on the dashboard back to the floor, as if my boss could see me.
Grey hit a button to disconnect my phone from the speakers, and I shot him a grateful look.
“Why are you calling me, Drew?” I asked, confusion filling my tone as I tried to ignore the jolt of anxiety that always accompanied an unexpected work call. He’d approved my time off—there was no reason to worry. My job, for better or worse, was secure.
“Because I can’t find the trainings,” he said with a huff.
I shook my head, trying to process his request and why he’d felt the need to call me. It was a simple enough question, something anyone on the team could help him locate. “They’re with all the other trainings on the knowledge base.”
“I know, but what do I search?”
“Drew, how would I know off the top of my head what to search? I’m not in charge of trainings.” I did my best to keep the frustration out of my tone. My confusion was gone, completely replaced by anger as I was once again presented with my supervisor’s incompetence.
“Because you know how to find everything, and Angela needs a refresher—”
“Talk to the training team. They can help you find it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to sound polite and professional. I wished I could hang up and replace this conversation with the girl-power music of Pat Benatar.
Did people in other jobs have to deal with the same number of inane questions I navigated on a daily basis?
“Why didn’t I think of that?” He muttered into the phone. I could hear some shuffling on his end like he was walking somewhere in a hurry.
I remained silent, waiting to see if Drew had any other unnecessary questions for me. Instead, he mumbled something that vaguely resembled goodbye and hung up.
I dropped my phone into my lap and slouched in my seat, returning my feet to the dashboard. How Drew managed to stay a supervisor, I would never know.
Because you do everything for him. I silenced the nagging voice in my head, telling myself Drew would find someone to do his job even if I wasn’t there. Maybe someday I’d find a job that actually felt fulfilling instead of one that just paid the bills. My recent internet search history, which included bookmarking several yoga certification courses, came to mind. But it was a fun, escapist dream, nothing more.
But did it have to be?It was a question I didn’t want to examine too closely. Dreams led to uncertain futures and constantly changing jobs—like my mom. I refused to repeat her mistakes, no matter how appealing the alternatives looked after a phone call with Drew.
I reconnected my phone to the car speakers, scrolling through my music options, looking for something with a good beat. I landed on “I Love Rock ‘N Roll” by Joan Jett The Blackhearts.
Needing a distraction, I turned to Grey, who had spent the duration of my phone call studying the road and pretending not to hear every word I spoke.
“We’ve been on this road trip together for”—I glanced at the dashboard and flinched at the time—“way too long, and after spending the night together, I feel like we need a redo. Tell me about yourself.”
Grey laughed and raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. “Seriously? Beyond the soul-baring I did last night?”
I flinched a little, realizing Grey had already shared much of his story the night before. If I’d been a better conversationalist, I would have remembered. My mom, Lyle, Emily. They all would have remembered.
“I can start, if that would make you more comfortable.” The words came out in a rush. I attempted nonchalance, ignoring the worry clawing at my throat. This was probably a terrible idea, but I had to try something. He’d shown me a glimpse into his life last night. It was my turn to do the same. Not to mention if we were talking, I wouldn’t open my work messaging app to pass the time. I doubted Drew’s ability to handle things while I was away, but knew if I cracked that door open, there was no closing it again on this trip.
I took a deep breath before jumping in, figuring there was no time like the present to give Grey a quick peek into my life.
“My mom raised me on her own after my dad walked out when I was three. They’d married straight out of high school after going a bit too far on a date. Neither was ready for parenthood, but my mom refused to consider any alternative besides raising me when she found out she was pregnant. It was us against the world until my sophomore year of high school.” My fingers clenched into fists in my lap as I thought about those years, worrying about my mom and if we’d have enough money to get us through the week. Trying to roll with her spontaneity but worrying it would come at the cost of dinner that night. I tried not to think about how it felt to go to bed hungry, knowing my mom was doing her best, and yet it still hadn’t been enough. I forced myself to relax and unclench my fists. That was the past. My life was safe and settled now. “Mom decided to give online dating a try, and after a slew of terrible dates, she met Dave and promptly fell in love. They married my senior year of high school and were surprised by fraternal twin girls about a year later.”
Silence followed my declarations, the only sounds the chorus of a Queen song as Grey processed my words.
“Did I say too much? Sorry, my life’s a lot.” I stammered, attempting to backtrack and recall the words. Maybe I’d shared too much. There was a difference between sharing secrets in the dark of night and blasting them out in the middle of the day.
“No, I’m just…processing. It’s a lot to unpack.” Grey rushed to reassure me, glancing between me and the road a few times. It was as if he wanted to watch my face, but also recognized the need for safety while driving. I was grateful he couldn’t fully read the emotions I was sure were written across my face.
“How do you feel about all of that?” He gestured vaguely, attempting to encapsulate all my words.
A small smile teased my lips as I chose to focus on the positive, ignoring the moments of stress and ‘not enough’ that had defined my childhood.
“I’m happy for Mom. Dave makes enough money that she gets to stay home and be the cool mom she never had the time to be when I was growing up. I’m grateful she found her happy ending. It’s just…” I hesitated, knowing I could leave it there and Grey would be none the wiser. For all anyone knew, the emotional trauma of my childhood was healed, and I had no secret hard feelings at my mom’s second chance at a happy, perfect family.
If I was anywhere else, not trapped in a car for several hours unable to escape, I wouldn’t hesitate to end the conversation and run away. Instead, Dot’s words encouraging me to be brave filled my mind.
I took a deep breath, deciding to give Grey the vulnerability and honesty he deserved after opening up to me last night.
“It’s hard not to worry about it falling apart…or about how I fit into it.”
The truth tasted bitter on my tongue. These were thoughts I usually kept to myself, safely bottled up where no one else could or would learn about just how much of a mess I truly was. I hadn’t even expressed these thoughts and fears to Lyle. Apparently, hours trapped in the car with Grey had broken my filter. Just more evidence I was no good at socializing. I went straight from small talk to the hard things, with little warning.
“I imagine that would be difficult.” Grey’s voice was soft, like he was trying not to spook a deer. I stared straight ahead, not wanting to see concern, or worse, pity written on his face. These conversations were much easier in the dark of night, where reactions could be hidden.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful she found Dave, and I love the girls. They feel more like nieces or little cousins than sisters. I mean, it’s hard to connect on a sisterly level when you’re in your third year of college and they’re learning to walk. But we have our fun. They come out to visit about once a year, and I go out to California to see them over the holidays. Dave usually foots the bill for me to take them to Disneyland, so there are worse family situations.” I shrugged, rattling off the many perks of being a big sister after having spent most of my life as an only child. If I focused on the positive, brushed away the hard, maybe this conversation could be salvaged and Grey would have no idea how messed up I truly was.
“Tell me about them,” Grey said, giving me full permission to return to safer topics.
“They’re seven, almost eight. Lily is the oldest, but Poppy will be the first to inform you it was only by two minutes,” I said with a smile. Their slight age difference was a major sore spot for Poppy.
“Wait.” Grey held up a hand to stop me, his forehead scrunched. “Their names are Lily and Poppy? As in, both of your sisters are named after plants?”
I laughed. “Mom went through a gardening phase right after she married Dave. Mom’s always starting new hobbies and swearing this will be the one that lasts. Currently, she’s into sourdough and talks about opening a bakery. Next month it’ll probably be crocheting book covers and opening an online shop.” My lips tipped into a smile, thinking about Mom’s many hobbies over the years. “The hobbies never stick, which is why we tried to convince her to name them something a little less floral. But Mom wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Makes sense. I don’t know that I’d name my children after plants, but you do you.” Grey’s smile widened, his teeth a flash of white against his beard.
“At least the names are cute and easy to spell. For a minute she was talking about naming the girls Amaryllis and Chrysanthemum.” I gave a mock shudder. “It was a rough week before we convinced her Lily and Poppy were better. She said they were going to be her garden babies. I’m still not sure what that means.”
Humor laced my voice as I thought back to those conversations before the girls had been born. Dave and I had tried repeatedly to brainstorm ways to get her to choose new names. I couldn’t count the number of texts I’d sent Mom my first year of college with baby name suggestions. No matter what I’d come up with, Mom had been set on something floral.
“If your sisters were named after a hobby, where did your name come from?”
“Believe it or not, it came from a hobby too,” I said, a hint of pride in my voice. I loved my name and the story behind it. It felt like my own special piece of my mom, just for me to hold onto. “Mom went through an Audrey Hepburn phase when she was pregnant with me. We used to watch a different Audrey Hepburn movie on my birthday every year to celebrate where my name came from.”
“Sounds like I should have been asking your mom for hobby suggestions at the beginning of this trip.” Grey threw me a wink, taking out any potential sting that could have come from his words.
He had no way of knowing that Mom’s ever-changing hobbies were the ultimate sign of her inability to settle down. Now that she was married to Dave, it wasn’t an issue. But my childhood had been a different story, each hobby leading to a different dream job with the associated costs and potential moves. After all, you can’t be a surfer if you don’t live near the ocean.
I’d always taken pride in my hobbies and how they symbolized a settled life of sorts. After all, I picked hobbies and stuck to them. Now I was realizing Lyle had stolen that from me, and it was long past time I stopped giving him that power. I needed to rediscover what it meant to be Audrey Byrd, hobbies and all.
“I’m just grateful she was into Audrey Hepburn when I was born. Shortly after I was born, she got really into rock collecting.” I playfully shuddered, letting the humor chase any heaviness that could accompany the conversation.
“Sounds like a missed opportunity! You could have been named Amethyst,” Grey said, clear enjoyment in his tone as he considered the possibilities. I decided to play along.
“Or Geode.” I nodded sagely, biting back a smile.
“Granite.”
“Schist,” I said, picking the worst rock-related name I could possibly think of, courtesy of a geology class I’d taken my first year of college.
Grey burst out laughing. “I’ll have to keep that name in mind for my future children. Schist sounds like a good strong character-building name.”
My laughter joined his as the music changed to “Carry On My Wayward Son”by Kansas. I bobbed my head to the music, lost in thoughts about my family.
“What are Lily and Poppy like?” Grey asked, pulling me back into the conversation.
“They look nothing alike. They think it’s hilarious to tell people they’re twins and watch the confusion.” I reached for my phone to pull up a picture but realized I would have to show Grey later, when he wasn’t driving. “Lily has blonde hair, blue eyes, and skin so fair she burns if she even thinks about going outside. Poppy has brown hair like mine, though hers has a bit of curl to it. She’s got green eyes and the biggest smile. Lily is all things tomboy and Poppy is definitely the princess. The two are inseparable most of the time.”
“It sounds like you’re close,” Grey observed.
My cheeks were starting to hurt from the constant smiling that always accompanied conversations about my sisters. “I’ve lived in a different state their entire lives, but I do my best to be present in their lives. Lots of video calls and trips to California make a huge difference.”
“They sound like a lot of fun,” Grey said.
“They definitely keep Mom and Dave on their toes.” Affection filled my tone. It had been far too long since I’d seen my sisters. I’d have to do a video call when I got home.
The conversation petered out, and I racked my brain for something else to say. The music changed to another song, the beat and growling guitar of Joan Jett’s “I Hate Myself for Loving You”filling the silence.
“What about you? I mean, your family.” I stumbled on the words as I tried to transition the conversation away from me. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Your turn. Tell me about your family.”
I dropped my feet to the floor and shifted in my seat to better face Grey, the faux leather sticking slightly to my legs. Grey took a moment to gather his thoughts, and I watched him as he stared out the windshield, trees flying past on both sides of the road.
“Up until about three years ago, I would have told you we were a normal, average Utah family. My dad worked an office job. My mom was a teacher so she could have summers off with me and my brother. Mason is two years younger than me, so we fought like siblings do. But we also protected and watched out for each other. Mason was finishing college, and I was bouncing between jobs, trying to find the right fit. And then, it all changed. Dad died from a heart attack, and Mom…Mom’s been lost ever since.”
Grey paused for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. I sat still, not sure what to say and afraid to break the moment with the wrong movement or comment. The moment felt like the night before, heavy and filled with vulnerability.
“Mom still works, still goes through the motions, but her anxiety runs rampant, and she tends to panic over the slightest change. Mason couldn’t handle her constant hovering and phone calls, so he took the first out-of-state job he could get and only comes home when he absolutely has to, which doesn’t include major holidays.” Grey’s voice had grown small and quiet. “Though he’s recently become convinced all our problems would be fixed if Mom got a change of scenery and we all moved to Oregon with him.”
My heart ached at the sadness and strain written on Grey’s face. Worry lines appeared at the corners of his eyes as he white-knuckled the steering wheel.
“I’m so sorry.”
He blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing out with the motion. “Me too. It’s hard.” He paused, swallowing and working to gather his emotions. “Most people don’t know what to say, so it’s not exactly something I broadcast to the world. I’m just doing my best to keep my family from falling apart.”
“And trying not to fall apart yourself.” Sympathy filled my voice, and I gave his shoulder a squeeze. His hand came up, resting on mine for just a moment before releasing it. He seemed to appreciate and accept my meager attempt at comfort. If the struggles of my childhood followed by Mom’s accident and Lyle dumping me had taught me anything, it was how to appear fine while secretly falling apart inside.
“I think you’re the first person I’ve told who actually understands.” He gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Everyone else just tells me to stick Mom in therapy and do what’s best for me. But it’s not that simple.”
“There are no easy fixes,” I said, nodding my understanding. I’d received similar advice after Mom’s accident, being told to let Dave handle it even though Mom’s recovery was long and she had two young children to care for.
“Losing Dad was just so unexpected, and we each handled it differently. Mason ran away. Mom tries to control everything.”
“And how do you handle it?” I winced as soon as the question was out, knowing it was probably the wrong thing to ask. Yet, I didn’t want the moment to fade, becoming just another awkward conversation I wasn’t sure how to navigate.
“I try to live everyday like it could be my last. I don’t want to look back on life with regret. Because…” He hesitated, unable to finish the thought.
“Because ‘not all who wander are lost’?” I quipped back, knowing it didn’t make any sense but certain it was somehow the right thing to say.
Grey gave a small laugh, the color returning to his knuckles as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Exactly. I want to wander and get lost and experience the world. My dad actually introduced me to that quote. He was obsessed with TheLord of the Rings. He talked about going on epic adventures all the time. How someday, when he had more money, more time, we’d visit all the national parks, fly to various countries, see everything the world had to offer.”
He grew quiet, as if processing all the things his dad would have never done. The atmosphere in the car was heavy and thick, filled with loss and regret.
“I’m just doing my best to do right by him.” This last sentence was spoken so quietly, I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear.
We sat in silence, small towns slipping by out the window as we got closer to the cabin. I attempted to think of a question or comment, something to change topics and get the conversation back to safer ground.
Grey gave a stiff shake of his head and reached over to fiddle with the music volume for a moment before speaking.
“Now that we’re both thoroughly depressed,” Grey said, his tone full of forced cheer. “I vote for a change of topic.”
“What do you have in mind?” I asked, more than happy to let him take control of the conversation. Just about anything he suggested would be lighter than loss and family drama.
“What is your favorite kind of ice cream? There are no wrong answers, unless you say vanilla.” Grey pursed his lips, waiting for my response.
I hesitated for only a moment before deciding to lean into humor, trying to bring back our banter.
“What about bubble gum? I feel like bubble gum is definitely a wrong answer.”
By the time we reached the cabin, my sides ached from laughter. Grey and I had bantered and discussed favorites, careful to avoid the deeper, more sensitive topics from earlier in our drive. Our delay in Logan had come with one huge advantage: we arrived at the cabin in the afternoon. Which meant, while we’d still had to watch for wildlife, it was easier to see.
We parked next to Tory’s SUV in a clearing in front of the cabin. Trees surrounded us, and a firepit sat a few paces to our left flanked by camp chairs. A hammock hung from two trees beyond the firepit, and I could already picture myself curling up in it with a book.
The cabin was a log structure, with a large porch occupied by two wooden rocking chairs. From my previous visit, I knew inside would be welcoming, with worn sofas, the faint smell of moth balls, and décor reminiscent of my mom’s kitchen growing up: large vinyl sayings on the walls, pops of red for color, and animal figurines for decoration. Why Tory’s parents thought chickens and roosters made sense as cabin décor, I’d never know, but I loved it all the same.
“This place is nice.” Grey whistled as he climbed out of the car, slipping a flannel shirt around his shoulders.
I shivered as I slipped on my shoes and stepped out of the car, a burst of cool air greeting me and bringing goose bumps to my legs and arms. While summer was in full swing in Utah, I’d forgotten that this far into Idaho, the temperatures tended to be cooler. I immediately wished my jacket wasn’t packed away in my duffle in the trunk. Outside was quiet, the distant mooing of cows the only sound to break the silence, and I took a moment to breathe in as the faint scent of pine trees reminded me why I loved the mountains.
The sound of the cabin door closing brought my attention to the porch, where Tory and her boyfriend, Trent, stood. Tory waved, fairly bouncing on her toes with excitement. Her black curls were pulled up into a ponytail, and she wore a well-loved Yellowstone National Park sweatshirt. Trent stood, stoic as always, his lips pressed in a straight line. His buzz cut and muscled build reminded me of a military man, an impression furthered by his no-nonsense personality. How such a quiet, straightlaced guy had ended up with my overexuberant friend, I’d never know. But they seemed happy, or at least Tory did. I had seen very little emotion from Trent.
“I’m so glad you guys made it,” Tory said, joy lacing her tone.
I grinned and rushed up the stairs, happy to see my friend even if she’d had to force me on this trip. While nothing had gone to plan so far, I could already tell I was making memories I’d laugh about for years to come.
I dropped my backpack on the porch and gave Tory a hug.
“Happy birthday, a day late!” I held on an extra moment to whisper in her ear. “Next time you want to play matchmaker and strand me alone with a guy for several hours, just don’t.”
She gave me a wicked smile and shrugged, whispering back, “How was I supposed to know y’all would get to spend extra…quality time together? Besides, the alternative was you staying home, which is the last thing you need right now.”
“Or I could have waited and come up with Brad, Alex, and Kylie,” I said, referencing the rest of the group who would join the trip tomorrow after Kylie got off work. I stepped back and slung my backpack over my shoulder once more.
“Which would have increased the chances of you backing out. This way I get extra time with you in my favorite place in the world, even if car trouble cut into that a bit,” Tory said, not even looking the slightest bit contrite about how everything turned out.
Grey bounded up the steps behind me, both of our bags slung over his shoulder. “Where should I stash these?”
“I’ll show you and then give you the grand tour. Grey, you’ll be sleeping downstairs with Trent in The Cave.” She gestured to her boyfriend who stood off to the side, looking like a statue and not bothering to greet us.
After we took off our shoes, Tory showed us around the cabin. It hadn’t changed much since I’d visited a couple of years ago. The same well-worn, comfy couches graced the living room, and the same log-framed beds waited in each of the bedrooms. There were even the same roosters and chickens watching us from on top of the kitchen cabinets, though they did look a bit more faded with age. The cabin was comfortable, with its open concept kitchen and living room and enough space to sleep 15 people—or more, depending on people’s willingness to share beds or sleep on the couch. Tory’s family frequently used it as a reunion space during the summer.
When we reached the room affectionately termed The Cave, Grey deposited his bag and settled on one of the beds. “I could get used to this.”
“This is my favorite room,” Tory said, gesturing to the dark space filled with several bunkbeds. “When we were kids, my siblings and I would drape blankets from all the beds and make forts.”
I glanced at Grey, catching his smirk as we both remembered our discussion about pillow walls and couch forts.
Oblivious, Tory continued. “It’s the coldest, darkest room in the cabin. Perfect for sleeping with a mountain of blankets.”
I shivered as the cold seeped from the cement floor, regretting having removed my socks along with my shoes when I’d come inside. “If we stay down here much longer, I’m going to need slippers and a jacket.”
Tory shrugged. “Just remember those things when we come down later for a movie.”
“How late are we talking? You know I turn into a pumpkin after 10:00,” I said. I did not do late nights well. My anxiety had a tendency to wake me up early, no matter when I went to bed.
“It wouldn’t be a trip to the cabin without late night movies and treats,” Tory insisted, leading the way back upstairs. “I didn’t even bring any chick flicks this time. It’s going to be all action and comedy this weekend. No hints of romance allowed, as promised.”
One of Tory’s arguments for getting me on the trip had been that it would just be a bunch of friends hanging out without dating or romantic pressures. She knew how much I resisted setups after things had fallen apart with Lyle. I decided to ignore Tory and Trent’s current hand-holding and the fact that they would spend the entirety of any movie snuggling—or more.
I avoided committing to the movie for the moment as I deposited my bag in one of the rooms upstairs and changed into sweats and a hoodie. Trying to chase away the cold of the basement, I pulled on my thickest socks and walked into the kitchen for food, curious to see what else the day would hold.