"Okay then. I guess it's time to introduce you to your new housemates."
5
Housemates. That makes my stay sound permanent, which it isn't. But how else can we describe these men that I'm going to meet?
I follow Walter's big black truck from Main Street to the outskirts of town. It's the opposite end to where I used to live with Mom and Dad, but I remember it because my best friend lived close by. Walter eventually pulls into a big driveway that's surrounded by huge trees. The house, which is enormous, sits higher up, looming over us in a friendly but impressive way. It's kind of old-fashioned looking with a white porch across the front. There's even a quaint little porch swing and other white painted benches to one side.
As I park the car, I inhale a deep breath and hold it. I'm about to step into my dad's home, a place that is strange and unfamiliar. I'm about to meet a whole load of men who are strangers to me but knew my father better than I did. I need the money from this house to set up a home for my baby but how will that be possible now these eleven men have a claim on it too? This is all way more complicated than it should be.
As I slam my car door, I notice the trucks parked to the side of the house — big trucks like the ones that passed me with all the whooping on Main Street. Oh shit. Are they the men living in this house? Surely not.
"Come on, Maggie. Let me introduce you to the guys and get you settled in. You have my number, so just call me if you need anything."
I think about opening my trunk to retrieve my luggage but decide against it. Turning up at a strange place filled with strange people with a suitcase in hand would just be weird. I can come and get it later.
Walter rings the doorbell even though he has a key. The house is filled with the sound of a television showing sports, and booming voices, which go quiet as someone stamps toward the front door. It's flung open, and the man who shouted, "Pretty girl" out the window gazes down at us. He's huge. At least six-four if not taller. "Uncle Walter," he says uncertainly, his gray eyes grazing over me so intensely I can almost feel it.
"Hey, Logan. I've brought Maggie over. This is Maggie. Dale's daughter." Logan's face falls as he realizes who he was catcalling on his way down Main Street, and my mouth twitches at his discomfort. Their behavior doesn't really fit with what I'd expect from a household in mourning for their father. Maybe Dad loved them enough to house them and leave them property in his will, but I'm not sure they loved him back with the same enthusiasm.
"Nice to meet you," I say, sticking out my hand. Logan stares at it as though he doesn't really know what to do next but eventually shakes it. Damn, his palm is big and his fingers thick. I look like a toddler shaking hands with a fairy-tale giant.
"Who is it?" someone shouts from inside.
"Walter and Maggie," Logan calls out. "Come in. We're in the den."
Logan retreats into the house, and Walter ushers me in first, which I know is him being polite, but to be honest, I'd rather that he led the way.
The hallway is wide, with a sweeping staircase and bare wooden floorboards that have been stained a dark hue. There is a huge rail of coats and a giant shelf for shoes. There are a lot of both. The sneakers look so big that I start to sweat at the idea of the men who fill them on a daily basis, more men who look like Logan.
Logan strides to the back of the house, where the TV is still blaring. Another man is lingering in the doorway, but he steps back as Logan approaches.
"Walter's here, with Maggie," Logan announces. "Turn that off."
Someone must take hold of the remote because the room goes silent as I reach the doorway.
Oh my goodness. My heart starts to thud in my chest, and I know I'm beginning to blush because I can feel the heat on my cheeks. The room is huge, with four giant couches that are accommodating what looks like a whole football team. My eyes scan the men who are all now turned to me — dark hair, blond hair, brown hair, dark eyes, green eyes, piercing blue eyes. There are just so many of them, all big with long legs stretched out onto the rugged floor and arms practically bulging out of their t-shirts. I don't know where to look and end up turning to focus on Uncle Walter as he lumbers into the room. "How are you doin' boys?" he asks. There's a murmur of “good” in response. "Well, this is Maggie. Your sister. She's visiting and has some things to do around the place… Dale's wishes, you know." The atmosphere seems to change at the mention of my dad's name. A somberness passes over everyone. It's a relief to see after their behavior on the street. I remember what the older woman had told me: “They've been through a lot.” I wonder if she was talking about my dad's passing or their lives before. There are so many stories in this room just waiting to be untangled.