When you spend your whole life on the road, you never stick around anywhere long enough to find out what it's like to be at home.
This man has asked me to come with him to dinner. I’m not missing a hot meal.
"So, where is this dinner?" I ask, realizing I can’t just go to some stranger’s house. Maybe we can go to a restaurant in town. I know I don’t want this conversation to end.
"Oh, well, first of all, you don’t need to be nervous about heading somewhere alone with a guy you just met. That officer who helped you today, Graham? He’s my brother. And he’ll be there. And so will the rest of my family." He gives me a sheepish grin. "At my parents' house. Every Sunday night, no questions asked, we all have to come back for dinner. My mom, she'll kill us if we all don't make it."
My eyes widen. "And how many brothers and sisters do you have?"
"Six," he says, "but don't worry. No one will give you a hard time."
"And how can you be so sure about that?" I ask.
He smiles, "Oh, because all eyes are going to be on Fig tonight."
"Fig?" I ask.
He nods, "Yeah. She’s the littlest sister, and she's trying to convince my parents that she should spend the last semester of her senior year abroad. So, that's what the conversation will about tonight. Her pitching a fit. So no worries, Abby, you've just got to sit back, eat my mama’s good food, and relax."
I smile. "Hijinx is welcome?"
He nods. "More than welcome." He bends down and picks him up, and then he takes my hand.
"Welcome to Home, properly this time." He leans in close, and for a moment, I have a crazy thought that this man I've just met might kiss me.
He doesn't, of course, but if he had?
I swallow. Honestly, I think I would've loved it.
3
Bartlett
Driving up to my parents' house, I look over at Abby, this wild-haired girl with eyes filled with a faraway look, her dog in her lap, a backpack at her feet. She's seen things, been places.
I don't know if she's been traveling a long time, but she looks tired. She says she was meaning to come home, but I want to know where she comes from.
Though, before I can get to that, I figure I better prepare her for what's coming right now.
I clear my throat. “The thing is,” I say. “My family–”
“It's a big one, right? You have a little sister, Fig?” she asks.
“Right,” I say, “she's just turned eighteen.”
“Okay,” Abby says, nodding and taking it in.
“And she's a senior in high school,” I say. “We all went to school here at the Home Secondary School.” I shrug. “I'm not sure what kind of high school you went to, but this school, it's small. Everybody knows each other. This whole town is small.”
She gives a smile that lights up the car, which is saying something considering the sun has already set and we're driving up the big old mountain road, the pine trees crowding out the black sky full of stars. Her smile makes anything seem possible.
“I was homeschooled,” she says. “We were on the road a lot.”
I chuckle. “Well, we were certainly not homeschooled. My mom wanted us out of the house so she could have some peace and quiet for seven hours a day. God knows she needed it.”
“So how many brothers do you have exactly?” Abby asks.
“There are seven of us in all. Five boys, two girls.”
“Where are you in the lineup?” she asks.
“I'm second-in-command. My brother Rye, he's a few years older. I'm 26. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.” She twists her lip. “So you got a big old family, a mother who somehow managed all of you, and a little sister who is ready to go spread her wings. Okay. Should I know anything else before we go to this family dinner?”
“Have you been to many family dinners?” I ask.
“Family dinners?” Abby repeats. “Well, my family was pretty close growing up. I mean, they are still close.” Her words falter a bit.
“But you're not with them. Do they know where you are?”
“No, not exactly. I needed some space is all,” Abby says, her fingers fidgeting, running along the hem of her jacket. “I needed to clear my head. I needed to spread my wings. Maybe I'm like Fig.”
Laughing, I look over at her. “You're not like Fig.”
“I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing,” Abby says, laughing. Her laugh, it's a good one. Big and bright.
Our eyes catch. “I love Fig to death, but she’s a little spoiled, being the baby and all. You don't seem spoiled. You seem like your head's on straight. Like you've been through some shit and you're not taking any of it for granted.”