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    Fallout

    Page 32
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    Hunter

      SOMETIMES I SHOULD SHUT MY MOUTH

      I knew bringing up Brendan

      wasn’t the most tactful thing

      to do, especially on Christmas.

      But sometimes Kristina makes

      me so mad, I want to hurt her.

      It’s stupid. She doesn’t injure

      easily, at least not when the slaps

      are verbal. When I mentioned

      Brendan, she didn’t say anything

      immediately. Finally she said,

      I’m surprised he came back.

      Surprised he’s still alive,

      actually. He ripped off a lot

      of people. Even worse than

      he took advantage of me.

      We were almost home by

      then. I slowed enough to get

      a few words in. “Don’t suppose

      you’ll take some responsibility

      for what happened that night?”

      ANGER PUFFED

      From her mouth in

      abbreviated breaths.

      What? You

      want to

      blame me

      for getting

      raped?

      Oh

      my

      God.

      And then she really

      pissed me off.

      Just like

      a man.

      Despite Grandpa

      Bill’s obvious

      uneasiness, I jumped.

      “All men are not alike.

      And, thank God, all

      women are not like you.”

      SHE HASN’T SPOKEN

      To me since. Not that I care.

      When we got home, she went

      straight into the house and

      retreated somewhere with

      the boys. For all of ten minutes.

      Then I noticed Donald join

      Grandpa Bill in the family room.

      He got a new game system

      for Christmas. They’re playing.

      I am helping Mom wash veggies

      when David bops by with Sasha.

      “Where’s Kristina?” I ask.

      He shrugs. She went outside

      to smoke a cigarette. Why

      does she like those stinky things?

      Mom answers, Tobacco

      is addictive. Once you start

      smoking, it’s really hard to quit.

      I’ll never smoke, he decides.

      Not if it makes you smell

      like that. Come on, Sasha.

      EVENTUALLY

      Kristina comes back inside,

      trailed by Jake and Misty,

      who have just arrived bearing

      gifts like Christmas magi.

      They sweep into the kitchen,

      Leigh close on their heels,

      put the presents on the table,

      chant a chorus of “Merry Christmas.”

      Kristina heads straight for

      the brightly wrapped boxes,

      finds one with her name on

      it. Ooh. Can I open it now?

      Leigh stops her from tearing

      into the Santa-and-puppy

      paper. Why don’t we wait

      for Scott to get back?

      Kristina, who has managed

      to ignore me completely,

      reluctantly agrees. Nicotine

      obviously can work wonders.

      Jake goes into the family room,

      and I hear him say, Grandpa

      Bill! I didn’t know you were

      here. Where’s your car?

      Damn DMV wouldn’t re-up

      my license. Said my eyes

      don’t work so good anymore.

      Hate to admit they’re right.

      The banter picks up speed in

      the kitchen as Mom and Misty

      and Leigh and Kristina start

      yakking girl talk. Enough, already.

      I’m on my way to the family room

      when the doorbell rings. Nikki?

      She’s early, but that’s all good.

      I swing the door open. “Nik!”

      Autumn

      THIS HOUSE IS INSANE

      Insane, as in beautiful.

      I stand on the front porch,

      staring up at the tall doors.

      Oak, with beveled stained glass.

      I wait for the familiar tingle

      in my fingers. But I don’t

      feel close to panic. I reach

      out. Ring the doorbell.

      The door jerks open. Nik!

      But I’m not Nik, whoever he

      is, and the boy who is waiting

      for him is confused. Uh …

      Can I help you? He is older

      than me by a year or two,

      with mink-colored hair and

      eyes an unusual shade of green.

      We are related, but I’m not

      sure how, and even less sure

      of what to say. I start to back

      away, but Trey takes over for me.

      You must be Hunter. Wow.

      I haven’t seen you since you

      were a baby. Damn. I’m, um …

      Is Kristina here, by any chance?

      Hunter—my brother—nods an

      “oh, okay” nod, turns, and yells,

      Kristina! Someone’s here to see

      you. Beyond him, amazing Christmas

      decorations swag staircase

      railings, and the scent of turkey

      roasting and bread dough rising

      makes my mouth start to water.

      A woman comes to the door.

      I have dreamed of this face,

      only a younger version of it.

      Kristina. My mother. Curiosity

      lights her eyes, only to be

      replaced by sudden wonder.

      Trey, she says. What are you …?

      Then her eyes fall on me.

      AT FIRST

      There is no hint of recognition.

      I could be a Jehovah’s Witness,

      passing out literature. But then,

      a rain:

      Memory search

      Denial

      Rewind

      Inquiry

      Puzzlement

      Recognition

      Surprise

      Shock

      Stunned

      Acceptance

      Autumn? Is that really you?

      She comes forward, hand

      extended toward my face.

      Suddenly I don’t want her

      to touch me. I don’t know why

      not, except you don’t let strangers

      touch you, do you? I step back.

      Annoyance shadows her eyes.

      So much for imagined reunions.

      NOW IT IS HUNTER

      Who rescues me. Autumn,

      he says matter-of-factly. I always

      hoped we’d meet one day.

      Come in. It’s cold out there.

      The house is full of people.

      Thank goodness I’ve had a little

      practice lately being around

      a mob of not-quite-family. Lots

      of introductions. Two aunts.

      One uncle. A great-grandfather.

      Another grandmother. Marie.

      Three brothers. And my mother.

      Everyone seems excited to see me.

      I’m not sure how to feel in return.

      Voices. Questions. Puppy feet.

      Television, loud. Timer buzzers.

      Oven doors closing. The whistle

      of a teakettle. It’s all too much.

      I ASK FOR DIRECTIONS

      To the bathroom. Follow them

      through a maze of halls and space.

      This house is crazy. Compared

      to Grandfather’s staid white

      rooms, these are warm with wall

      color, art, and hardwood floors.

      I don’t know my grandmother yet,

      but I feel her presence here.

      She’s an author. I’ve seen her

      books around
    school, though

      I’ve never opened one.

      I wonder if I would have, had

      I known how much they relate

      to me. I think maybe not. Surreal.

      I wander down a long hallway,

      hung thickly with family photos.

      Hunter in Little League. Kristina

      as a teenager. And uh … me,

      as a baby. I was here all along.

      I need air. I cut through my grand-

      mother’s office, go out a side door.

      Summer

      LOOKS LIKE THE PARTY’S STARTED

      The driveway is choked with cars,

      lined bumper-to-bumper against

      the berms of piled snow. “Did you

      do all that shoveling, Grandpa?”

      He maneuvers the Lexus carefully.

      With a little help from your brothers.

      “Brothers? Plural? You actually got

      the boys to work?” That’s a surprise.

      Believe it or not, Donald has become

      quite a good helper. David would still

      rather play with the puppy, but he’s

      getting better too. Consistency.

      We could all use a little of that.

      Grandpa noses the SUV against

      the garage, and as we exit the car,

      the office door opens. “Who’s that?”

      The girl is a year or two older than me,

      with thick copper hair tumbling loose

      to her shoulders. She is not dressed

      for snow. I have no idea, Grandpa says.

      She stares up into the crackled

      blue sky, lost in solitary reverie.

      I am connected to her in some

      unfathomable way. The door opens

      again, and out comes my mom

      with some guy I don’t know either.

      They light cigarettes, and Grandpa

      Scott says in a stiffened voice, Trey.

      Everything clicks into place. Trey plus

      Kristina equals, “Autumn.” My sister.

      She pivots like a soldier on drill, goes

      back inside. This day is full of surprises.

      GRANDPA SCOTT SHIVERS

      Cold out here. Let’s go inside.

      But he creeps along, trying, I think,

      to understand what this development

      means. Trey has materialized, a ghost

      of times best left unremembered.

      And Autumn? What does she know

      of those times? How much does

      she really want to know? Still,

      the little chills quivering through me

      have nothing to do with air temp.

      “I didn’t even know I had a sister

      until a couple of weeks ago.”

      Grandpa looks truly surprised.

      Someone should have told you.

      But so you know, Marie has been

      trying to track her down for years.

      I glance over at Mom and Trey,

      who stand close to each other,

      exhaling smoke into iced air.

      “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”

      Grandpa shrugs. I’ve never

      quite figured Kristina out.

      It’s almost like she fuels

      herself on secrets and lies.

      GRANDMA MARIE’S KITCHEN

      Has always felt like sanctuary.

      Some people might think

      that’s a cliché, but compared

      to any other kitchen I’ve ever

      spent time in, this one is always

      the gathering place. Warm.

      Spice-scented. Spilling laughter

      and conversation. Today there

      is more. Today there is reunion.

      And, for some of us, relationships

      too new to quite comprehend.

      Grandma Marie is at the counter

      kneading dough. Aunt Leigh

      and Aunt Misty play cards at the table.

      Autumn hovers in a corner, trying

      to make sense of what these women

      mean to her. I know the feeling well.

      Might as well try the direct approach.

      “Hi, Autumn,” I call across the short

      expanse of tile. My feet follow, until

      I stand in front of her. “I’m Summer….”

      SHE IS WARY

      Like a caged cat, escaped,

      but unsure of the wild lands

      beyond the bars. I understand.

      Already, we walk common ground.

      It is tenuous turf, riddled with

      the rifts and earthquakes of our

      personal histories. We confess

      scenes. Abbreviated clips.

      With her soft Texas drawl

      and faux hippie wardrobe,

      on the surface she is nothing

      like me. But just below the skin,

      we find connection. I shudder

      to think why that might be, because

      our common denominator is

      someone I don’t want to resemble.

      Autumn and I talk for an hour,

      while the house fills with holiday

      cheer. I don’t know where we’ll go

      tomorrow, but today there is communion

      here, and now I have a sister.

      There is power in that. Today

      I am surrounded by family

      and affection, uncluttered by need.

      Hunter

      SURPRISES

      Are rarely good things

      around here. Today they

      are kind of a mixed bag.

      Good: Meeting a sister I only

      half believed existed.

      Not-so-good: Meeting a guy I always

      half blamed for Kristina’s

      return to the monster.

      Good: Watching Summer and

      Autumn test the choppy

      waters of sisterhood.

      Not-so-good: Watching Kristina pay

      more attention to Trey

      than to her children.

      Good: Seeing how well David

      and Donald are coping

      despite being ignored.

      Not-so-good: Seeing that no matter

      how some things change,

      others never will.

      THE BEST SURPRISE

      Of the day was Nikki

      opening her arms, allowing me

      back into her life.

      I have to remember how bad

      being closed out felt.

      I know we’re young,

      that we have a long way to go,

      and love has a way of

      fading. I can’t promise her we can

      keep ours alive, but

      I can promise to give

      it a damn good try. Temptation

      is something I can’t

      control. Flirtation is a whole

      different thing.

      As afternoon slants

      toward evening and she hasn’t

      arrived, anxiety nips.

      What if she changed her mind?

      Should I call her?

      But then the doorbell

      rings and I know it’s her and

      now it really feels

      like Christmas. Thanks, Santa,

      for the best gift ever.

      DESPITE HER MOM STARING

      I pull Nikki into my arms, kiss

      her like we don’t have an audience.

      Then I notice the bags her mom

      holds. “Let me take those for you.”

      I peek inside. Eggnog and brandy.

      This could prove an interesting

      afternoon. I lead the ladies into

      the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”

      It is a busy place. Mom slices

      turkey. Leigh mashes potatoes.

      Misty spoons cranberry sauce,

      trying not to trip over Sasha,

      who sits, tail wagging at

      the prospect of some offered

    &nb
    sp; tidbit. David obliges, slipping

      her bits of roasted poultry skin.

      Autumn and Summer have

      tag-teamed the table setting.

      Nikki and her mom see what

      they can do to help. It might

      be a scene right out of a Norman

      Rockwell painting. Except,

      of course, it isn’t. It can’t be.

      Because this is our family.

      Autumn

      DINNER IS READY

      My grandfather—Grandpa Scott,

      he said to call him—has announced

      that it’s time to eat. We all gather

      at the table, which has two large

      folding tables placed at one

      end, and still we’ll all barely fit.

      Once everyone has found a seat,

      two chairs are too obviously empty.

      Hunter goes to the door, calls loudly,

      Kristina! We’re all at the table.

      Are the two of you planning to join

      us? Room service is closed.

      His voice carries thinly veiled anger,

      and his girlfriend shoots a warning

      glance that says, Watch your temper.

      Earlier, I heard Hunter talking

      to Grandma Marie. Why is Kristina

      outside? he asked. Why isn’t she

      with her kids? Why can’t she just

      act like a mom? Doesn’t she care

      about them? Doesn’t she love them?

      Grandma answered right

      away, as if she’d thought about

      the question many times before.

      I think she wants to love them.

      Wants to love all of you. But

      she can’t. I told you how meth

      eats into the brain. Well, the part

      that gets chewed away is

      the part that lets people love.

      I think about that as Kristina

      and Trey finally find their way

      to the table. How sad if they

      really aren’t able to love.

      It explains a lot. But it also

      raises more questions.

      QUESTIONS LIKE

      Why am I here?

      What have I accomplished

      by coming all this way?

      I wanted to meet my mother.

      Mission accomplished.

      What does it mean?

      We haven’t even spoken

      to each other. My fault,

      I guess. Should I have

      run into her arms?

      Do I open

      my arms to her now?

      She seems much more

      interested in rekindling

      things with Trey.

      Does she care

      at all about getting to

     


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