Chapter 19
Kirsten
I take a sip straight from the bottle like I’m some kind of alcoholic.
It’s crazy, thirty-six years old and having to hide in the pantry to enjoy one glass of wine.
But that’s Utah, I guess. I learned soon after starting kindergarten that my mom and dad were different from my friends’ parents.
That sleeping in on Sundays and drinking merlot with dinner was not normal behavior here.
And that if I wanted to make friends, I needed to start acting like someone else.
I joined the church when I was thirteen, when my best friend at the time, Janie, was so concerned for my soul that she invited me to go with her family.
I’d get picked up by Janie’s dad every Sunday morning, much to my parents’ bemusement.
I lapsed for a while, rebelled maybe, when I thought my future belonged in New York.
But Garrett made me realize that Utah was home, and I’ve been faithful to the church ever since.
Loosely speaking.
It’s only one drink after all.
And I need it tonight after the day I’ve had.
The baby contest was exhausting, having to choose a winner from those six sets, while twelve pairs of eyes dared me to reject their precious children.
And on top of that, I had to convince Garrett to drag Maple back, him fretting about what the bishop would think of him leaving church early, her sullen and unapologetic when she finally reappeared.
I still can’t believe she abandoned me like that.
I should be punishing her really, but I don’t have the bandwidth.
I’ve still got the baby contest content to edit, an unboxing video to film, and Dylan Dope is arriving tomorrow.
And then there was lunch at my in-laws to get through.
Trying to be sociable while not letting the opportunity to create good content pass me by – all while being judged by the other women in Garrett’s life.
His mother and sisters-in-law who pretend to have concerns about Maple’s schoolwork, or Ash’s language development, when it’s so clearly the green-eyed monster at play.
The thing is, I can brush off their criticisms easily enough.
But what I really want is their admiration.
I am director, producer, prop manager, cameraman, child psychologist. All the children do is smile and follow direction, and that’s fine; they’re kids.
Garrett, on the other hand. I take another large gulp, then twist the aluminum lid back on and stash the bottle behind the sack of potatoes.
Garrett was let go from his park ranger job last September, and he still does nothing to help.
In fact, he does the opposite a lot of the time.
Obstructs. Questions. Acts like I’m the problem.
I crunch a mint, then head back into the TV room. The twins are fast asleep in bed, and Maple is in her room, doing whatever fourteen-year-old girls do. Scrolling, messaging, lip synching, who knows. As long as she’s not damaging her brand, I don’t really care. And she’s too smart to do that.
I flop down on the sofa.
‘What a day,’ Garrett says, his eyes not leaving the TV, a documentary about tigers. ‘But fun, right?’ he goes on. ‘It was great to catch up with my brothers; it’s been too long.’
‘I thought you hated your brothers,’ I murmur, closing my eyes.
Garrett is the youngest of four boys, and the only one born without the sports gene.
From how he’s described his childhood, it sounds like he spent most of his spare time in the car with his mom, waiting for one or other of his brothers to finish whatever sports training they were at.
He says he’s not bitter about it, that it was because of those stretches that he got interested in wild animals – his mom would give him nature books from the library to keep him quiet.
But I always notice some tension when they’re all in a room together.
Garrett clicks his tongue. ‘I don’t hate anyone, especially not my family. I’m just not into talking about football twenty-four-seven.’
‘Yeah, sorry. I’m tired.’ I shift closer toward him, and he winds an arm around my shoulder. I snuggle in. Garrett might be crap at sport, and social media, and making money for his family, but he’s good at this. Being physically present.
‘Why don’t you sleep in tomorrow?’ he suggests, kissing the top of my head. ‘You haven’t got school to worry about now.’
‘Nice idea,’ I murmur. ‘But the twins will be up early, racing around, making a racket like usual.’
‘Not tomorrow they won’t.’
I open my eyes. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, I’ve booked something. A surprise.’ His demeanor has changed, from relaxed to an odd mix of apologetic and belligerent. I narrow my eyes, push forward on the sofa and twist to face him.
‘Garrett, what have you booked?’
He takes a deep breath, then looks me straight in the eyes. ‘I’m taking the twins camping for a few days. And we’re leaving tomorrow at dawn.’