The ride to Pennsylvania took four hours. Or so. I wasn’t really paying that close attention. I couldn’t shake the anger laced with sadness that was rattling around my body that felt otherwise hollowed out. My dad had said, “we’re not abandoning you,” but I could hear his voice, over and over, abandoning, abandoning, abandoning, so many times it sounded like he was laughing at me.
I’d stuck my head in the sand more times than I could count when Dad would say something horrible or tightened the reins on our lives until it was a chokehold. It was easier that way. But, this time, the wreckage was worse than ever. Impossible to ignore. I felt bad for my mother. She had trusted him to take care of us and generally excused everything else. Until it all went up in a puff of smoke and she found herself lost in the middle of it. We both did.
When I pictured my father’s calm face as he casually announced the destruction of our family last night, anger shot back through me. He didn’t look sorry. No apology. No acknowledgment of the misery and embarrassment he was heaping on us.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the driver turned onto the street that I vaguely recognized as the one Uncle Ed and his family lived on. I hadn’t been to their house in eight or nine years. The last time was for some kind of celebration. Maybe Dylan or Hannah’s birthday or an anniversary. The only things I remembered were the crystal tumblers my Aunt Greta served the iced tea and lemonade in and my dad grumbling about there not being any wine. Those glasses looked like they were made for royalty, intricately designed with flowers and swirls. I felt special just putting my lips on them.
I sighed, and my newly short hair flew up around my face and tickled my nose. I sneezed twice as the car pulled into the driveway of the small house where I’d be making a brief pit stop before trekking into the forest. A rusting pick-up truck sat under a carport with a sagging roof, and the front lawn seemed to consist more of weeds than actual grass—a sea of yellow dandelions and white fluff. Wishes waiting to be cast. I heard my dad’s phantom snort of disgust in my head and tightened my jaw as the car slowed to a stop. The driver, who hadn’t said a single word the entire drive, opened his door and went straight for the trunk to get my suitcase. I remained in the backseat as he placed it on the sidewalk, until he peered in the window at me. What would he do if I didn’t get out? I groaned, opened the door, and swung my feet out. At least my toes were done—my favorite shade of purple to match my fingernails. If my life was going to hell in a handbasket, I’d look cute on the journey.
Aunt Greta was coming down the walk as I slammed the car door behind me.
“Ashlyn!” She smiled warmly, showing a row of sparkling white teeth with a small gap in the front. If that’d been me, my dad would’ve insisted on cosmetic dental surgery. I liked it on her, though.
“Hi, Aunt Greta,” I said. She wrapped her arms around me and I patted her back awkwardly, hugging her for the first time in almost a decade.
“How was your drive? Let me look at you. Goodness, girl, you are thin. What are they feeding you at that fancy school of yours? Spinach and sparkling water?”
“My best friend asked the same thing,” I laughed, self-consciously looking down at my legs, bare beneath my white skirt.
“Well, I’ve got lunch ready for you in the kitchen. Your grandmother’s special baked ziti.” My grandmother had a specialty? Aunt Greta pursed her lips. “I would’ve made your favorite, but I wasn’t sure what that would be. So, Hannah insisted I make her favorite.” She chuckled and put her hand on the small of my back, taking the handle of my suitcase in the other, but not before reaching into the pocket of her shorts and handing the driver a folded wad of bills. He nodded, got back into the car, and peeled out like he couldn’t get away fast enough. “Come on, let’s go in and I’ll show you the guest room.”
Uncle Ed was at the front door when we got there. I did a double take. He looked just like my dad. A little thinner, a lot grayer, more stubble around his square jaw, but there was no mistaking the relation. We both just sort of stared at each other for a moment, and then his face broke out into a wide grin—wider than I had seen on my father’s face in years and years. My uncle swept me up into a hug, my feet leaving the ground, and I had to hold onto his shoulders to steady myself.
“We’re so glad you’re here, Ashlyn, I can’t even tell you,” Uncle Ed said into my hair. “I’m so sorry for everything you’re going through.” Tears immediately sprang to my eyes and I quickly turned my cheek to wipe them on the soft fabric of his worn T-shirt. And then, setting me down gently, “But you’re with family now. We’re here to support you.”
I nodded, afraid to speak and let loose the ocean of tears I was desperately trying to hold back. He stepped into the house and held the door open for me and Aunt Greta. I followed him up the narrow wooden stairs, each stomp of my feet on the steps releasing a bit of the nervous energy inside. He carried my suitcase into a small bedroom on the left side of the hallway. It was fine, but it wasn’t mine. Uncle Ed set it down on the bed and wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans. He looked at me, with what looked like hope, and his face fell when he saw the grimace I knew was on my face.
“Well, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s comfortable. At least there’s air conditioning, which is more than I can say for the employee cabins up at Sweetwater, but that’s half the fun, right?” He chucked me gently on the arm. Was that meant to be a joke? No air conditioning sounded like a nightmare.
“Sure,” I said weakly.
“Do you want a glass of water or a pop or something? Hannah’s downstairs setting the table, should be ready in a few minutes.” Uncle Ed’s eyes were light and hopeful. Like adding his estranged niece to his household was absolutely no big deal. I hoped that was true. The last thing I wanted was to be anyone’s burden.
“I’ll just freshen up and be right down.” I clasped my hands behind my back. Uncle Ed nodded.
“You got it.” He smiled again, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “I know I said it already, but I’m glad you’re here, honey. We’ve missed you.”
I heard myself say, “Me too,” with a creak. I wasn’t sure I meant it but I wanted to.
“Bathroom is across the hall. You’ll share with Hannah.” He nodded again and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I sat on the corner of the bed, which was covered in a lacy bedspread that probably used to be white but had yellowed with age. The walls were dark blue, almost navy, but the room was still filled with light from the large window, framed with lace curtains. Cheap, my dad’s voice scorned. I stood and inspected the three-drawer dresser at the foot of the bed. On top, conveniently for me, was a brochure for Sweetwater Overlook Retreat Center. Did Hannah put it there? Aunt Greta? I ran a finger down the glossy cover, over green trees and the roof of the big, wooden lodge. Men and women, who looked like they belonged in suits and shiny shoes, smiled bright white teeth at the camera as they linked arms and pointed to the logos on their matching Sweetwater tees. They looked happy. But how anyone could be happy in the woods with bugs and rain and dirt was beyond me. I groaned and silently cursed my father. If he had followed the rules set forth by the IRS like every other law-abiding citizen in the free world, I’d be sitting by the pool reading magazines with Tatum.
I read further and something caught my eye. “Sweetwater is proudly ‘off the grid’ so be sure to leave your cell phones and laptops at home.”
No cell phone or internet? How was I supposed to talk to Tatum and stay connected to the real world? My dad talked a good game about his genius plan of ensuring I was “supported,” but that seemed impossible if I couldn’t talk to my best friend.
“I know you probably think you’ll hate it, but the retreat is magical. People’s lives change there. So just make sure you don’t ruin that for the rest of us, okay?” I whirled around to find my cousin Hannah in the doorway, hand on her hip. She looked exactly the same as the picture Aunt Greta had sent in the most recent holiday card. Tanned skin—she’d benefited from our Mediterranean genes, while I was paler than a ghost—muscular thighs beneath olive green shorts, plain white tank, swimmer’s shoulders, a chocolate brown pixie cut. And a spectacular sneer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
I raised one back. “I’m not sure what you think you know about me, but I’m pretty certain you’re wrong.”
Hannah’s navy-blue eyes widened. They were just a shade darker than my own. She held my gaze for a full minute as I felt my insides shrink. Just as I was about to look away, she shrugged. “That’s fair. I mean, we haven’t seen each other since, what? Elementary school.”
I cleared my throat. “I think that’s about right.”
She shrugged again, no hint of aggression or anger on her face. She looked oddly calm and unbothered. I’d never seen anyone who could do that. “Well, maybe I am wrong then. I guess we’ll see.”
“I guess we will.”
At the round table in the kitchen, Aunt Greta seated me between her and Hannah. Uncle Ed, across from me with a monster-sized helping of cheese-smothered ziti, grinned as I dug into mine, which was about a quarter of the size of his.
“Prepare for greatness, Ashlyn. My mother’s recipe won contests. Your father and I used to fight over who got the corner pieces where the cheese is crispy.” Uncle Ed winked at me and then chuckled at the confused look on my face.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had this,” I said quietly and slipped a small bite into my mouth. I wished it hadn’t tasted like sawdust. I’m sure it would’ve been better had I not been here against my will. I took another, smaller bite and tried to ignore my dad’s voice telling me to watch how many calories I ate.
Ed raised an eyebrow for just a second before he nodded once and said, “Well, we’re certainly happy to be able to introduce you to it, then.”
Lunch continued like that. Ed or Greta making perfectly good attempts at conversation, me not knowing what they were talking about or giving the shortest answers possible, and Hannah, chewing with that smirk on her face. And despite Uncle Ed and Aunt Greta’s best attempts to make me feel at home, the meal only intensified the reality of how alone I was. They were this nice little unit and I was the interloper. Once I’d eaten enough to be polite, I asked to be excused, saying I needed to rearrange my bag for camp.
Aunt Greta put a hand on my wrist as I stood. “You let us know if we can do anything to help you, honey. Anything at all.” I was surprised to see more than just compassion in her gaze. There was concern, fear, and anger there as well. All the things I was feeling too.
“I will. Thank you.”
I slid my chair back under the table and ran up the stairs.