CAROLYN — OR GRAN, as I’m trying to remember to call her every time — bought the crib. She and Suzi argued about it for a few minutes, but Suzi lost, as a person always should when arguing with their grandmother.
Carolyn offered to purchase the rest of the furniture in the set — a changing table atop a chest of drawers, a beautiful toy box that could grow into part of a desk unit, even a little armoire that would later grow into a television unit — but Suzi won that discussion. There just wouldn’t be enough room in her one-bedroom apartment.
We went to several secondhand stores, but everything seemed to be as expensive as regular retail. Some of it was badly scratched, and some of it was the quality of a flea market find — priced like an heirloom.
By the time our preordained lunchtime rolled around, Suzi had a crib and a whole lot of decorating ideas. She’d made notes and taken pictures. She’s getting more excited about life. She’s starting to see good things in the future.
Teagan and Sinead were already at the restaurant when we walked in, heads almost together and deep in conversation.
Once we were all seated at a round table near the center of the place, and Suzi had passed her hand sanitizer — her new obsession — the server showed up and took our orders, and we all started to chat.
Sinead looked adorable. She’s one of those people who can mix and match clothes from every style and time period, and it comes off looking cute, not overthought or contrived.
Teagan looked a little tired and a little unhappy. She explained that Jessie has been out of town a lot, but that while he has been out of town, she has been spending time with her mother-in-law-to-be. My words. Teagan just calls her “Jessie’s Mom.”
Suzi pulled out her phone and showed pictures of the baby’s crib. Everyone made all the appropriate oohs and ahs.
Carolyn shared a little bit about the next adventure she and the girls are planning. They have decided to go to a park. A national park. Their first trip will be without Jordan. They want to check it out and make sure they are comfortable with it before they bring along a child. I tried to explain that there are very nice hotels where they would be comfortable, but they’re insisting that they want to camp and make it a real adventure for Jordan. I’m still shooting for a compromise. A little cabin to quasi-camp in, instead of a tent out where a big bear can eat you. Anna, a friend of Carolyn and Adeline, accused me of ageism. I maintain that being care-filled about your elders is not ageism; it’s respect. We are in negotiations.
Nothing new from my world, so I didn’t have much to say.
The group of us got kind of quiet and uncomfortable.
Considering there were three O’Flynns there and the inherent ability every O’Flynn has for jibber jabber, silence is downright uncomfortable for us.
I couldn’t just say nothing.
I’m the common denominator in this group. I know all of them. I should be able to come up with something to talk about.
I searched my brain. That didn’t take long.
I shared all the information from an email I’d gotten from Mom and Daddy this morning.
Mom said that things were going pretty much as planned. She shared that she and Daddy had already spent some time doing touristy things in Ireland. That they had been using our cousin’s house as their base camp and then doing day trips all over the place.
One of the day trips didn’t turn out as well as they had planned. They typed an address into their GPS and started out just after sunrise. Being American, when you see something on a map that appears to be close, you expect to get there quickly, but Mom swears it takes three and a half hours to get from one place in Ireland to another place in Ireland, no matter where that place is. She points out that it could have something to do with my father’s need to stop for soft-serve ice cream every time he sees a big plastic cone on the side of the road, but Daddy is quick to point out that they are on vacation and that the undaunted pursuit of ice cream is pretty much what vacation is for.
Anyway, on that particular day trip Mom and Daddy followed the voice emanating from their GPS, a new voice Mom found when playing around with the mileage selections. She had to switch to kilometers soon after getting there, one of the few details she didn’t think of before she left.
So they followed the dulcet sounds of the GPS all the way to Kilbarry and ended up in what looked like a mostly residential area. They saw a big structure on a corner, where the GPS told them that they were going to turn in, but there was no place to turn in. No turning lane or anything, which you would expect for one of the most beloved places in Ireland, at least on my mother’s most-beloved-places list.
Yes, there is such a thing.
Anyway, they were forced to turn into a residential-looking area, which is always scary in Ireland. You could end up on a street so narrow that you can’t get yourself turned around again. My father is all but convinced that when only Irish people are around, leprechauns do the heavy lifting and turn the car around for the natives, but Daddy has had to have Mom get out of the car and guide him as they do a three-hundred-and-twenty-seven-point turn. In a standard — renting a car with automatic transmission is difficult and expensive in Ireland — on the wrong side of the car.
They got all turned around again and found a little pull-in with a sad white gate, the kind you see at used car dealerships, across the opening. When they looked past the gate all they saw was a huge empty building. All the glass that had once sparkled in the sunshine now looked dank, not easy for a modern glass building, but the facility achieved it, which about broke Mom’s heart. There were castles that had been abandoned hundreds of years ago that didn’t look anywhere near as depressing.
Weeds were growing up around the building and in the parking lot.
It was only then Mom remembered all the stuff she’d read about them closing down the Waterford Crystal plant.
And people wonder where I get it. I do that, and everyone is convinced I’ve lost my mind. I can misplace entire blocks of information every once in a while. It’s not like I lose stuff in real life, not very often anyway; it’s more like I file the information away in my brain for safekeeping, and when I go to retrieve it, it’s just gone. Then sometime later it pops back up. I’m convinced that is why I am so organized. It just makes it easier.
Mom has a ton of Waterford Crystal. The real stuff. Made in Ireland. If you ever wanted to buy something for my mother from the time she got married until right about the second they pulled into that little pull-in and saw the sad building, you could count on anything Waterford Crystal or Belleek.
According to the email, Mom is now more focused on what all those workers are doing with themselves. They say it takes years and years to learn the art and craft of creating something like that. The place is closed. What do you do once the platform for your art is swept out from under your feet?
I’m not sure that Mom can actually do anything about it. It has been years, and the people probably all have other stuff going on in their lives, but Mom was adamant about the need to do something.
I looked it up online. The Waterford Crystal factory had been in Kilbarry from 1783 to 2009. Can you imagine? Turns out that Waterford Crystal, one of the most Irish things I’m aware of, is mostly created outside of Ireland now. They have plants in Slovenia, Czech Republic, and even Germany, but according to what somebody told them when they drove all the way back across the country, they also have a local place that Mom and Daddy completely missed. They drove right past it, thinking it was a store that sold the stuff made in other countries instead of a factory. Mom can’t decide if she’s going back or not. That will be in the next email.
The conversation wiggled around from subject to subject until it came back to the most important subject of the day.
Babies.
It kind of surprised me that Teagan was so effusive about all things baby. She was talking about furniture and baby clothes and how to do all things baby on a budget. She’d obviously been looking online, because she had information about all the latest and greatest gadgets and trends.
Sinead even made a few comments.
Turns out there are a couple of pregnant girls in Sinead’s group at school.
One girl joined the military and then decided she hated being deployed and got pregnant. The military wasn’t amused. Her husband wasn’t amused either. She came home, and her husband is still deployed. The husband is a close friend of Howard, Sinead’s beau, and as a result Sinead and Howard are on baby watch.
Teagan was talking about one of the women at work and her trials and tribulations with a breast pump that they couldn’t figure out. One woman thought the machine was malfunctioning. The other woman thought it was bad technique.
The conversation started to slow down again.
As a disclaimer I would like to point out that as anyone who has met me more than once can tell you, I have always enjoyed complete impunity when it comes to any and all comments directed at Teagan. She has the same freedom with me. It’s just one of the things we have always done.
I’m as sure of that as I am that I will never, ever get my left foot behind my head.
I can usually make smartass comments to Teagan to lighten up a mood or keep a conversation going. It’s one of the benefits of having cooked a gazillion dinners and supplied tons of junk food for her all these years. I should point out that I also didn’t tell my parents when she decided that smoking was cool and smoked a cigarette in the fifth grade and when she said that she’d cut her left leg on a rock when actually she’d tried shaving her legs before my mother gave her permission.
So, it’s understandable that I didn’t really give it a lot of thought.
Just blurted it out, really.
I looked her straight in the eye and said, “All this talk about babies, you trying to tell us something, Teagan?”
“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe you told her. Great, now I’ll have the family martyr offering unwanted advice and unneeded hints on how to be the perfect little O’Flynn. Like everyone even wants to be the kind of O’Flynn she has visions of in that warped little mind of hers. What the hell? Thanks a lot, Teagan.”
And with that, Sinead stood up and stormed toward the exit, or maybe the bathroom was her destination, since they’re both on the same wall.
I was stunned silent.
How often does that happen?
“Thanks for the heads-up, Teagan. I was talking to you, not Sinead.”
“Not my news to tell. I’m going to go check on her.”
“Let me.” Suzi started to stand up. “One preggo to another.” She smiled and walked off.
Gran was grace-filled as always, and reached over and touched my hand and asked, “Would you girls like some privacy?”
Teagan didn’t seem the least upset. “Not necessary. There’s no longer a secret, so there’s no need for privacy.”
“When did you find out, Teagan?”
“A couple days after Mom and Dad left.”
“That seems to be the trend.”
“Trend?”
“Oh, nothing, another O’Flynn told me something I can’t talk about until Mom and Daddy get back.”
“You mean the thing with Morgan and Liam?”
“What thing with Morgan and Liam?”
“Never mind.”
“What’s with all the secrets lately? O’Flynns don’t do that.”
“Sure we do. We always have. You just choose to not recognize it, ignore it, or do this weird thing you do that allows you to participate in something without ever acknowledging that it’s going on.”
“What?”
“Think about it, Cara. Think back as far as you know how to think. There have always been secrets. There has always been what Mom and Dad refer to as family business. We weren’t allowed to tell anybody outside the immediate family.”
“There’s a difference between family business and secrets.”
“A secret is a secret no matter how pretty a bow you choose to put on it.”
“I don’t agree, but I’m not going to argue about it right now.”
“That’s exactly what you do, Cara. Now, in your brain, we can both be right. Being right is very important to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what? I don’t want to do this right now. We have bigger issues than your delusions about being an O’Flynn and what that means.”
Teagan seemed to be getting more annoyed, which really wasn’t fair since I’m the injured party here. I tried to point that out. “Wow, first I’m the family martyr, and now I suffer with delusions.”
“That’s just the thing. You don’t suffer at all. You’re perfectly content with your delusions.”
Although I’d never say it out loud, this stuff is definitely going on the list for the counselor I haven’t told anyone that I’m going to see in a couple of days. A secret. Hadn’t thought about it that way before.
Maybe Teagan is more right than I thought.
I hate it when that happens.
The server came by and refilled our drinks just as Suzi and Sinead came back to the table.
I stood up and gave Sinead a hug. “Sorry, but I have to go all Cara on your ass. I couldn’t be happier for you. And for the record, I thought I was teasing Teagan, not talking to you. I had no idea. Teagan didn’t tell me.”
“Thanks for being happy for me. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“No problem.”
The rest of lunch was a little quiet. A little strained. Suzi, Carolyn, and Teagan tried valiantly to keep the mood light and positive, but it didn’t work. I have to give them credit; Sinead and I didn’t even try.
After lunch we decided to go our separate ways. Teagan and Sinead left. Suzi, Gran, and I headed for furniture row.
Maybe it was the shock of the day. Maybe it’s because Adeline pays me pretty well and I’m more secure in my job than I thought I was. But by the end of the day, I’d bought more furniture than Suzi had.
I think maybe it’s because I’m at a different point in my life than I was just a few months ago. I feel different. Like life is changing and it’s happening really fast.
I guess I’m changing, and part of that change is that I’m tired of living on other people’s hand-me-downs with mismatched everything that goes together more in a jumble than a style.
Also, I’m working at home all the time now, so instead of a guest room we use once in a while, I decided on the spur of the moment without any input from A.J. that I’d turn the guest room into an office.
In one of the little boutique-type furniture stores that cater to people with very small living spaces, I found a modern Murphy bed. When it’s closed up, the bed looks like any other wall unit. It has a few shelves that you can put books and knickknacks on. It even has several little niches that are cut into the edges, making it look like a normal wall unit. When it’s time to turn it into a bed, you just pull down on one of the shelves. The shelves all stay parallel to the floor, and your stuff doesn’t fall off — very impressive — and down comes the bed. It’s already made up with sheets, blankets, and pillows, so turning the room from office to guestroom literally takes ten seconds.
I’m going to put the bed wall unit on the wall furthest from the door. For the wall with the windows, I found a great desk. It’s exactly the right length, and it has built-in cord organization, which is good because I hate seeing cords hanging around. Everybody makes fun of me because I buy shower-curtain-rod covers online and then wrap them around my cords. I do it that way because you can find the covers in so many different colors that they blend in with the background really well.
While shopping with Suzi and Gran I found some other cord covers for other areas of the house too. I love that.
I gave my old desk to Suzi. I love that desk, and I’m glad it will have a good home. I also gave the bed from the guestroom to Suzi. I kept my office chair. I got it on sale years ago. It’s a really nice, ergonomically correct chair with adjustable lumbar support. I think that it was about four hundred and fifty dollars, and I got the floor model for fifty.
For the wall closest to the door I got a really unique storage unit. It has tons of storage — which would be the whole idea for a storage unit, I get that — I’m going to use for office products. The unique part is that it has these weird shelves on a track. You can pull out and down, and the top shelf becomes the bottom shelf. That way you can have useful shelves all the way to the ceiling. I’m blessed to have really high ceilings in the apartment. Being tall, I’ve always used storage as tall as I can get it, but these moving shelves will allow me to put heavier stuff higher. Like all the extra stuff that I have to work on for Adeline.
I am totally thrilled with my purchases. I got everything on sale except for the cord covers. They were expensive but not scary expensive.
The guy who was helping us told me about a container store down the street that had every kind of storage gadget you can imagine and several that you would never have thought of.
After walking up and down every single aisle with Suzi, my big purchase was a couple of metal strips and super-strong magnets.
I’ll put one set on the side of my fridge. I didn’t find anything reasonable that the super strong magnets wouldn’t hold up, and, believe me, I tried. While Suzi and Gran were busy looking at closet organizers, I went from one section of the store to the next, snapping the magnets on everything that was metal and either hanging something from them or putting paper and even cardboard between the metal and the magnet. So now, all the junk that was on the front of the fridge is going to be on the side of the fridge, which I can see easily because of the light from the kitchen window, but no one else sees when they walk into my house. I love that.
Then I got another, bigger metal strip and bigger, stronger magnets, and I’ll use double-sided removable tape strips, and I’ll put the metal up in my bathroom and put a bunch of the magnets on the metal. I’ll hang up all my necklaces and earrings on the magnets or in these little cup things I bought that stick on the strip with their own magnets. I’ll hang the metal strip behind the bathroom door. That way you won’t even see it unless the door is closed, but it’s really convenient and looks nice.
I also found this long, skinny glass container, and in the flower shop next door I got a bunch of four-millimeter glass balls.
My plan is to steal the idea from a makeup store that Teagan always bullies me into visiting. I’ll pour the glass balls into the container and sit it between the two sinks in the bathroom. Then I’ll put all my new makeup brushes in the glass balls, and they’ll stand up perfectly and look great just like they do in the store.
After all the looking around at new apartments, when we finally decided to stay where we are, I was kind of disappointed. I’ve been looking at the same everything for a while, and my apartment just didn’t seem to be working for me anymore.
With my new purchases and an afternoon spent deep cleaning the apartment, it will feel like a whole new place.
When I first really decided to get the stuff for the guest room, which won’t be here until Tuesday, I worried that A.J. might not be happy that I was making all these decisions without him. Then I decided that it is my money, he has never shown any interest in decorating or anything, and it isn’t like I bought a living room couch or something else that he will actually use. I bought office furniture for my personal use and little repositories to organize my stuff.
How can you argue with little repositories?
Oh, and I found a portion control device. I didn’t even know they had such a thing. I was walking by a restaurant supply place, we went in, and they had all kinds of stuff that helps professional cooks and servers create plates with the proper portions. Since I have a really bad habit of serving a pound of potatoes to each person, I bought a couple of different spoons that are four, six, and eight ounces. We’ll see how that works. I should probably look it up and see what a proper serving of potatoes is, but in my family, it is about half a dinner plate, so pretty much anything is going to be an improvement.
I took a bath with citrusy smelly-good-stuff.
When I got out of the bath I noticed a text from Teagan. Just dropped off Sinead. She’s fine. Promised not to talk about anything till Mom and Dad get home.
I started dinner.
I really wanted to put on lounge wear, but I knew Jordan would be coming back with A.J., and even my most modest lounge wear is not little-boy approved.
Shouldn’t have worried about it.
A.J. texted and said that they were going to stop and get food for the boys and that they would be late.
I was sitting on the couch when A.J. carried Jordan in. Sound asleep, he still had a smile on his face.
We brought him in the guest room, pulled off his shoes and pants, and put him to bed still grimy from a day of pure boy-fun.
A.J. went in and took a shower while I made us tea and hot chocolate. The next thirty minutes were filled with recounting the adventures of the day. I tell you, A.J. is going to be a wonderful father.
A.J. told me that Maria is feeling great and Grace seems to be doing really well.
The doctors are going to try a new procedure on Grace. Thanks to Adeline, Robert and Maria have a whole new life, and part of that new life is doctors who are excited about helping.
Something hard to find on their previous budget.
Gotta wonder just how many excited doctors there are going to be in the new health care system.
Mom says that if the church would okay dying the old-fashioned way — when you got to a point you just died, and they didn’t keep you alive by extreme means — and if the government would allow you to die with some dignity and compassion, it would be a non-issue. That’s a pretty scandalous stance for a devout Irish Catholic, but I agree with her. When my time comes, I don’t want to hang in here forever just because it is possible. I think everybody should get to make that decision for themselves, and their wishes should be carried out with a little class.
Not a really popular attitude or discussion point, but I tell anyone who will listen, because if something goes really wrong, like if I’d had some kind of serious brain damage when Barry beat the crap out of me, I don’t want to live in some nursing home on tubes and mushed food. If someone else wants that, I support it one hundred percent. I’ll pay my taxes with a smile on my face and say a prayer every day. I just don’t want that for me or mine.
I’m not old enough to think about this stuff, but I do. Teagan would probably argue that I’m going to bring the hard decision to my door by thinking about things like this. I would argue that it is like buying an extended warranty. When I pay for the extended warranty, nothing ever goes wrong until at least three weeks after the thing expires. If I buy the exact same thing again and don’t buy the warranty — boom! — the thing blows up.
By knowing what I want, I’m just telling the universe that I have the cosmic equivalent to the extended warranty.
Jordan and A.J. had a wonderful time. Jordan met a couple of big shots. He won some little fantasy-game-thing. He ate every kind of sports-related junk food that God has allowed to be created. He bonded with Robert’s nephew, and the guys are planning a camping trip in a few weeks.
I didn’t say anything about Sinead.
That’s two.
I haven’t told A.J. about Sinead being pregnant. I haven’t told him that Maeve told me she is gay and that she doesn’t want me to say anything to anybody until Mom and Daddy get home.
On the one hand, they aren’t my stories to tell.
On the other hand, my sister is right; this family is full of secrets. I never noticed because I’ve never really had someone to share the secrets with. Someone who would be hurt if I didn’t share.
At least I think he’d be hurt.
But then, a normal person would want to help pick out the furniture for their own home, and when I told A.J. about the furniture for the office, he didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in on the decision-making process.
“I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“Are you upset that I bought all that furniture without talking to you first?”
“Not really.”
“Not really isn’t the same as no.”
“I know. I’m not really upset, but it’s kind of weird that since we live together, you would do that. On the other hand, it is about your business, and I don’t feel the need to ask your permission about things I buy for the studio. The difference is that your work environment shares a space in our home.”
“That’s pretty much the discussion I had with myself. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.”
“If you were buying stuff for our room, I might feel differently. But you bought stuff for your home office, so I can justify that in my mind as a business decision, and you don’t need my help with your business. You’ve done an amazing job for Adeline. My grandmother says that she loves you and that she would be lost without you.”
“I hope so. Ever since JoAnn was hired, I worry about it now and then. It seems like I’m getting paid an awful lot of money for not doing all that much work.”
“You work all the time. You just love your job. When you love what you do, it doesn’t seem like you’re doing all that much. When I have a shoot, one that I find really interesting or challenging, I can shoot a thousand images without even noticing.”
“That’s because you want the shot. I’ve watched you. Other photographers would just Photoshop the hell out of it.”
“I try to alter my images as little as possible. I know that most photographers use the computer as much as they do the camera, but I hate that. When I’m in the zone, I can create an alternate reality or perfectly capture the one we’re sharing. You can play with the image long before it is on your computer. You can alter angles and light and the subject. If all I’m doing is snapping a picture and then bringing it to the computer to electronically draw all over it, I might as well not use the camera at all. I love the process of creating the shoot and then getting the perfect shot. It never feels like work. Just because you don’t feel like you’re working, doesn’t mean you aren’t doing exactly what Adeline wants you to do.”
“Good point. There’s something really energizing about the philanthropic side of it. Can you imagine having the resources to walk in and change someone’s life? Look at what Adeline has done for Robert and Maria. She made a few calls, wrote a few checks, and she changed their lives forever. And it isn’t like she is going to support them or anything. She gave them a hand up, not a handout. Robert will work his butt off, and he will educate himself, and he will be self-sustaining.”
“Yep.”
“And knowing Robert, he’ll pay it forward a hundred times over.”
“He’s already started.”
“Really? How?”
“Well, he started his basic first aid and CPR training. As soon as he knew what he was doing and was comfortable with it, he had an unofficial class at his old apartment complex. There are a lot of older people there and people with health issues — mostly stemming from a life full of challenges created by lack of money. Anyway, he is sharing his knowledge, and because he’s a friend to those people — and unfortunately most of them have a problem with authority, so they are limited as to who they will listen to — they listen to Robert.”
“Can’t he get in trouble? He isn’t a teacher. He isn’t qualified or certified. It would be a shame for him to get in trouble just for trying to do the right thing and just when his ducks are starting to line up.”
“I asked him the same thing. He’s comfortable with it, so I shut up.”
“Then I’ll shut up too.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t. I have another question.”
“Shoot.”
“How do you feel about secrets?”
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Well, I’m assuming someone told you something, and they don’t want you to say anything, and you’re feeling bad because you haven’t told me.”
“You’re such a smart man.”
“I don’t have the right to know everything you know, Cara. I’m your boyfriend, not your…well, I’m not even sure what the relationship would have to be in order for you to be obligated to tell me everything.”
“In my family, that would be my mother.”
He chuckled. “I definitely don’t want to be your mother.”
“That makes two of us.”
“On the other hand, I’m just a normal guy, and the fact that you know something and don’t want to tell me about it makes me a little nervous. Maybe suspicious is a better way of saying it.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you; it’s that my sisters told me something, and they don’t want anybody to know about it until my parents get back. It isn’t my secret to tell, although I really resent that they told me and then told me I couldn’t tell anybody. They should have asked me if I wanted to know a secret in the first place.”
“Your sisters? Who’s pregnant?”
I tried not to react. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because of the age of your sisters. You guys are all in that phase of your life.”
“Bite your tongue!”
“You know what I mean. And I guess I figure it’s a baby because you aren’t all freaked out, which means whatever it is, it isn’t bad news, and your family is of the very strong opinion that a baby is always good news. Suzi’s life was forever changed by the way your family reacted. I will be grateful for it until I die, and I’m not even the one who matters.”
“Oh, you matter!”
“You know what I mean. So, my guess is one of your sisters is pregnant, and since you said sisters with an s, another sister has a different issue. Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one for a minute. Nobody is sick, or you’d be cleaning something. Nobody’s in jail; you’d be calling lawyers. Nobody did something stupid; you’d be muttering to yourself. I’m not sure what your sister did, but it is something you are ultimately okay with, just something you wish she would have kept to herself until your mom and dad get home.”
“You know me so well.”
“You aren’t hard to know, Cara. You don’t play games.”
“Well, according to one of my sisters, who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, because the innocent might be me — I haven’t decided if I have to kill her yet. Anyway, according to one of my sisters, I’m the family martyr.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“It wasn’t a good time.”
“Well, if it was a bad time, maybe she didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, by what was said, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the first time it has come up in conversation, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t the only one of the family who has that particular opinion.”
“Sinead is young, Cara.”
“How did you know it was Sinead?”
“You were out with Sinead, Teagan, and my sister and grandmother today.”
“They told you?”
“No, but it obviously happened today. If it had been Teagan, you’d be all whacked out. Sinead saying something would bother you. Teagan saying something like that would drive a stake through your heart. So it had to be Sinead. And since she’s the one who exploded, I’m going to guess that she’s the one who’s pregnant. Also, because she’s the youngest and her life really isn’t at the best place for a baby. Yep, it’s Sinead, and she’s pregnant. You don’t have to confirm or deny. We’re good.”
Just as I was about to say something brilliant that didn’t give everything away, Jordan wandered out from the guestroom.
“What’s up, little man?”
“Nothing. I just heard you guys talking and woke up, and I’m kind of hungry.”
“How could you be hungry? A.J. said you ate more than he did.”
Jordan got a shy smile. “Growth spurt I guess. Mom says every time I’m gonna to grow, I eat more than her and Pa and a small community of ravenous creatures that eat their weight in food every day.”
“Well, that sounds pretty normal to me. Any requests?”
“We were talking about buffalo flops this morning, and I never got any. I’ve been thinking about it all day. We were going to have them with breakfast this morning, remember? Then everything got changed when we decided to go to the stadium. Is buffalo flops too much trouble?”
A.J. looked intrigued. “Buffalo flops?”
“It’s basically an open-faced, crunchy, torn-up grilled cheese and garlic sandwich mess.”
“I’ll try one. That sounds interesting.” A.J. pulled a face.
“Buffalo flops it is.”
I went into the kitchen and attacked a loaf of French bread. I cut a couple of large slices for myself. I prefer my buffalo flops without much cheese, which means I like cheesy garlic bread. Cheesy garlic bread is better served in slices instead of chunks.
If I’m starving, I don’t even get my garlic butter sauce out of the freezer, and I cut off a little more than I should chew. Forget the slices, I cut a six-inch loaf out of the middle and then slit it so that I have what looks like the beginnings of a sub sandwich. When I have the appropriate bread sliced, I butter each portion — usually two — put them on a skillet or griddle, let the butter melt, pull them up and sprinkle garlic powder on the griddle, and then put the bread back down until it gets slightly crispy. Once it is slightly crispy, I pick it back up, put down a little bit of Parmesan cheese, and put the bread right back down. It takes only seconds for the cheese to melt. I then pick the whole thing up carefully — so as not to leave the cheese in the pan — grab an ice-cold Pepsi, and snarf.
It’s really good.
My sister likes it almost the same way, with a little olive oil mixed with the butter.
I do it the stove-top way instead of in the oven because it makes the bread just a little bit crunchy on top without making it too crusty crunchy and because it’s faster. Don’t have to wait for the oven to warm up. From the time I pull the bread out until I’m snarfing it down, maybe three minutes.
For the guys, I did basically the same thing, but pulled the bread apart in chunks, and instead of Parmesan cheese I used cheddar. When I got to the part when I put the cheese down on the griddle, I put extra and let it cook a little longer than with mine because I know Liam likes his extra crunchy, so that’s probably the way he fixes it for Jordan.
We ate buffalo flops and drank soda and laughed about the boys’ day out.
By the time I got Jordan tucked in, it was late, and A.J. and I were both exhausted. I was kind of grateful Jordan wandered out. No more discussions about family secrets, and we ended our night with full stomachs and smiles on our faces. A very good thing.
The morning was rushed. Liam and Morgan came by early to pick up Jordan. He’d only been out of the shower about a minute and a half when they knocked on the door. We had a quick cup of tea while A.J. got Jordan organized.
I was hoping to find out what their big secret was, Jordan having said they were whispering about stuff lately, and then Teagan asking if my Maeve secret was the thing about Morgan and Liam, but if they have a secret, they aren’t sharing it right now.
They took off, and almost immediately A.J. and I did the same. A.J wanted to spend the day scouting locations for a shoot.
Actually, several.
We put some soda in a little ice chest, grabbed some chips and some chocolate chip cookies, and planned to spend the day driving around looking for visual treasure.
A.J. has a motorcycle shoot coming up. He’s going to use a model and take a bunch of shots outside at daybreak, and then he will do another shoot indoors at the studio with motorcycle parts and probably several of the girl’s parts — barely covered. I know it sounds like it bothers me, but it really doesn’t. I have complete faith in A.J. He would never cheat on me, and he would never put his business in danger like that.
If he can find the perfect place for the shoot and get great pictures, and if he can do his normal magic and the shots turn out well — which they will — a pretty big company is going to use him not only for their catalog work but also for their print advertising.
It’s a great opportunity.
We found several places he can shoot outdoors. A wall covered in graffiti. Another wall covered in some weird plant I’ve never seen before. Right in the middle of the wall, there’s a bricked up opening about four feet up with ironwork over the brick. We got out of the car, and I climbed up there to see if the model could fit between the brick and the ironwork. If I can fit, a model can fit, and I fit just fine.
A.J. took some test shots.
He promised to erase them later.
A.J.’s always on the hunt to find new locations for family shoots. Lots of families don’t want a normal studio shoot. They want their pictures done at the beach or in a park. That’s great, but some of those shots have been done to death, and A.J. likes to keep it fresh.
We found an alleyway in Old Town that looks almost like something off Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The bricks are really aged, and there are filigreed window coverings and faux balconies. It would make a great shot for a family or even a wedding. I wrote that one down. We didn’t need any test shots.
We also found a railroad track with an old, rusted-out caboose. I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to be on that track, but if you’re quick, it would be a great picture, and it is obvious the caboose hasn’t been moved in years and years, so I don’t think there is big danger you might be run over by a train.
We found another interesting one. An abandoned play lot. You know how some subdivisions add their own little park or play area for kids? This was the same type of thing, but this one looked like it had been there since the fifties or sixties. There was no fence or signs telling us to keep out. I couldn’t figure out the address, so I just hit the coordinates button on my GPS so we could find it later.
We decided to take a look around a couple of state parks. The first one has a parasailing business. Blue sky, whitecaps in the water, and gorgeous colors of parachutes floating around are always a beautiful background, but only if you do it right. You don’t want to make the picture too busy or lose focus on your subject.
We were driving down a two-lane road in the middle of nowhere when we noticed a hot-air balloon.
Actually, we heard the hot-air balloon before we saw it. I know that sounds crazy, but it wouldn’t be a complete exaggeration to say the thing almost landed on our moving car.
The pilot was in the process of landing and came from behind and to the side of us. He wasn’t all that far off of the ground, and at first it kind of scared me.
I’ve heard hot air balloons before and knew the sound instantly — well, almost instantly. I recognized the sound right after the initial heart attack and silent prayer that went something like “God, Mom is gonna be really mad if I’m dead when she gets home. I need a little help here.”
I pulled the cover for the sunroof back, and there it was. Close enough to see the weave in the bottom of the basket.
When a hot-air balloon is right over your head, it is your duty to take a better look.
We pulled over to watch.
He lowered the balloon pretty slowly; then all of the sudden he was on the ground in the middle of a huge field. There were wires to his left that he was keeping clear of. He kind of skidded for a few feet; then he just pretty much hovered there. Hover isn’t the right word. He kept the basket from being dragged on the ground while he still had the balloon full of hot air. Not sure how he did it. You would think that the breeze, although there was none I could feel with all the car windows open, would move him around, but he just kind of sat there.
It was very otherworldly.
A very, very short time later a lady in a little station wagon pulling a trailer came zooming up and jumped out of the car with a couple other people, and they ran toward the guy.
They each took a corner of the basket and shoved it over toward the middle of the field while the guy who landed the thing played with the fire and kept the balloon just skimming the ground. They didn’t seem to be putting a whole lot of effort into guiding the balloon to where they wanted it, which was amazing because those baskets are big and a hot air balloon looks much smaller in the air than it does on the ground. I had no idea they were so big.
We got out of the car and stood there and watched as the balloon guy played with the fire and the ground people laid out a big tarp. They each grabbed a corner of the basket again and moved the basket around to exactly where they wanted it.
It seemed like it was just a couple of minutes later that the balloon was completely collapsed on the tarp and they were all packing it up. It was really interesting to watch.
For the record, I’ve gotta say there is no way that I am ever going to get in a hot-air balloon, but it was beautiful to watch.
A.J. went over and talked to the guy. Got his business card. Offered to send him some pictures. He, of course, had been clicking away the whole time we were watching the process. That’s why I couldn’t be a real photographer. I get so caught up in what I’m doing that I’d forget to take the shot.
Yeah, sure, that’s the reason.
Anyway, I think it was a really good networking move. A.J. is good at networking. He isn’t afraid to do something nice for someone, just because, and it usually works out in his favor.
Truth is, that’s pretty much how life works, but people have forgotten the most important part of it. They start out doing something nice; then they have to mention it online or tell someone or somehow get acknowledgement about how wonderful they are for doing something nice for someone. The universe is watching, and it isn’t impressed. You don’t win any karma points by making it about you. You might stroke your ego for a few seconds, but that’s all you get out of it. And, really, if you are just in it to get something out of it, then it is still about you anyway. A.J. isn’t like that. He does nice things because it is who he is. The universe rewards that.
My mother. Even watching the whole process of hot-air-balloon retrieval in the middle of a huge field, all the stuff she always talked about when I was growing up — well, actually, she still talks about it all the time — seeps into my wee little brain and overtakes my thought process.
I’ve always thought that was a really good thing; now I’m beginning to wonder.
As we were driving away, three more hot air balloons were headed toward the field. I thought A.J. might turn around and shoot them, but he didn’t.
“Why didn’t you want to go back and shoot the other balloons?”
“It’s been done. Besides, I’m really happy with what I already have.”
If I hadn’t just thought all the stuff I thought about karma points and gotten a little weirded out about my mother living in my head, I’d point out that there are about a dozen life lessons to be learned in that comment. But I’m just not going there.
We decided to head home a totally new way. We’d probably get lost, but with A.J. in the car we’d find our way home.
He has a natural sense of direction.
I can get slightly lost while using a GPS.
We found a subdivision that had just the streets and streetlights in. It was obvious that someone had just walked away from the project mid-build when the economy went to pieces. Wonder if they are ever going to come back and finish what they started.
We looked around at the entrance. It’s kind of strange that they didn’t have a fence or any signs telling people to stay out. What about liability and crime and all that stuff that everyone seems to worry about these days?
You would at least expect to see a sign that says not to trespass. Trespassers will be shot on sight, their picture will be taken, and they will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Something.
You have to watch for things like that. I would look bad in a picture taken covertly by a security camera I didn’t notice. It’s a given. I’m not like those ridiculously photogenic people you see online. The ones who are running marathons or have a mug shot that should be framed. My doofus picture would find its way to the front page of the paper, in Ireland, where my mother would be distressed.
Or I would end up in jail. It would be just my luck that the cop who was processing me in would have had a really bad day. Her boyfriend, of six years, who she thought was about to ask for her hand in marriage would be caught with a redheaded woman about my height. Her boyfriend would be a photographer. When they went to delouse me, it wouldn’t be pretty.
I’ve never been to jail, but I’ve seen how it works on television, and I wouldn’t do jail well.
Can you even begin to imagine what Teagan would do?
First she would bail me out, because even if my parents were in town, I’d call Teagan, not my parents. My mom told all of us from the time that we were tiny that if we ever did anything stupid enough to end up in jail, not to call her. She always said that she’d raised us smarter than that. She said she would not save our sorry behinds. So far it’s worked. The only one of us who has been to the jail is the one who is on the right side of the bars. He’s the cop.
A.J. said he had a couple of ideas for shoots but needed a closer look and to look from different angles, so we drove into the subdivision.
We drove around the whole place.
Just as we were making our final turn into a large area that we assumed would have been a community center or maybe a shopping area, since it was a huge parking lot without any buildings, we saw three police cars coming toward us.
Not good.
See, this is what happens when you set your mind to tickets and jail.
Can I manifest a winning lottery ticket? No.
Can I manifest three police cars? No problem.
We pulled over so we could get our ticket for trespassing or whatever they do to people who are driving around on property they don’t belong on, even if there was no sign. I can hear my mother now, reminding me that she has told me at least a million times not to take what isn’t mine or go where I’m not invited.
The current goal is to accept whatever the cops are going to do, gently, without getting shot or Tasered.
You see it on the news all the time. Cops in my area are known for being a little Taser happy. You don’t do what they want when they want, and you are going to end up on the floor flopping around like a fish. Little kids. Pregnant women. For really minor stuff too. It’s not like the Tasered person was going to kill them.
I guess it is better than getting shot, but I have no desire to have a gazillion volts of electricity running through my body, making me fall down and get all dirty and convulse all over the place. It would all get caught on their dashcam, and then it would be on the news. Mom would kill me. Dead.
The police stopped and let their dogs out. That brought me back to reality pretty quickly.
Police dogs. I’ll bet they bite. A bunch. Yeah, my thoughts are always of superior quality. Of course police dogs bite.
This situation is going from bad to worse. Quickly.
We sat.
We watched.
We didn’t move.
The cops were exercising their police dogs.
They didn’t care about us at all.
A.J. rolled down the window and started taking pictures.
That got their attention, and one of the cops walked over to talk to us.
By the time the two of them were done talking, A.J. promised to send some pictures of the dogs to the cops, the cop wanted to set up an appointment with A.J. to have pictures taken of his wife, who is about to have a baby, and we were all standing outside our cars eating chips and cookies and drinking soda.
Sometimes things work out better than you think they will.