After changing into a set of clothes that belonged to Gus a few years ago—clothes that are still way too big on me—I walk out into the main room with the immense fireplace and the hanging animal heads. Staunch is on the sofa smoking a cigar, looking comfortable.
“Sit down, boy.”
The way he says boy makes me nervous.
“Sorry I don’t have anything else, but Gus is a porker. Has been since he was little and his mother gave him too many treats to eat. Stopped his crying, but didn’t stop his belly from growing.”
I want to ask about Mrs. Staunch but don’t dare.
“Please, Chris, sit. Go on.”
I sit on the leather couch across from him. There is a huge coffee table between us with a variety of things on it, including a big leather book of some sort.
“Yeah, that’s what I want to show you,” he says, putting his cigar in an ashtray and picking up the book. “It’s a scrapbook of sorts. I want you to look through it.”
It’s a heavy book, so I leave it on the table and open the thick leather cover to see a page with handwriting that says Kinner.
My mom’s maiden name.
The scrapbook turns out to be a photo album. The first page has a small black-and-white picture of a couple. Good-looking couple, dressed up. Maybe on their wedding day or honeymoon.
Samuel Tapson Kinner and Nellie Henrietta Solitaire, 1856.
There’s that last name again.
Solitaire.
The same name that was on the gravestone in the church in the middle of nowhere.
So this is a picture of my great-great-great-however-great-grandparents?
“That is the first Kinner,” Staunch says, biting on his cigar. It doesn’t appear lit. “That’s the first picture I’ve been able to locate. And I’ve tried hard.”
“Kinner.”
“Yep. Same spelling and everything.”
For the next few minutes, I’m looking through the years at pictures of men and women. None of the names or faces mean anything to me, but I keep looking, acting like this interests me.
The only thing I really want to do is get out of Gus’s clothes.
I turn a page and see a kid with light-colored hair sitting on a beach.
“Hold it,” Staunch says, then he turns the photo album, looking at me and then at the pic. “Yeah, sure, I can see it.”
“See what?”
“The resemblance. A bit.”
The boy in the picture doesn’t look anything like me, but whatever.
“That, Chris, is your great-grandfather.”
I see the words written in black ink.
Walter Robert Kinner, b. 1921.
“Chris—Walter is still alive.”
“What?”
“Yes.”
He takes the photo album from me before I can see any more. Then he stands.
“Listen—I have to mingle and do my thing. You be a good boy and stick around. Hear me?”
I nod.
“I want to introduce you to your great-grandpoppy.”
“He’s here?”
“No, not in this house. But yes, Chris. He’s around. Just wait until the party is over. Stick around.”
A short while later I’m finally managing to eat the brisket, but suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. All I can think about is having to stick around here until later, whenever that might be. I think about this supposed relative I’m going to meet.
Last time I met a cousin, that didn’t work out too great for me.
But another part of me wonders why Staunch would lie to me.
If I’m “important” for whatever reason, maybe it’s because I really do have a great-grandfather who is somehow connected to the history of the town.
But so what?
Maybe I’m going to get a huge inheritance of money and shrunken goat heads.
The corn bread tastes thick and the beans taste goopy.
I so don’t have an appetite.
I make small talk with some people, including a few kids from school, but I wish that I had decided to bring someone. Mainly Lily.
I text her to see what she’s doing.
It takes a while to get a reply.
SO YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME ALONE, HUH?
WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I ask her again.
SPENT THE DAY SHOPPING IN DOWNTOWN SOLITARY.
REALLY?
NO she sends back. Then quickly adds WHAT ARE YOU DOING TONIGHT? CAN YOU SEE ME?
I’M AT A PARTY.
I WANT TO SEE YOU she types back. DOESN’T MATTER WHAT TIME.
It’s good that she wants to see me. And everything in me wants to see her. It’s just—I’m still annoyed at her. Still unsure about her history and her secrets and not sure I want to go there.
Who cares about her secrets? Don’t ask, don’t tell.
CHRIS?
YEAH.
I WANT YOU.
I look at the text and wonder if she left off “to see” in it.
I feel something stirring inside of me as I read those three words.
I REALIZE THAT NOW another text from Lily reads.
I’m not sure what to say.
I just know I’m definitely not hungry anymore for beef brisket.
YOU THERE?
YEAH I type with a nervous hand.
I’LL BE HERE she says. WHATEVER TIME WORKS. IF IT WORKS.
OKAY.
BUT CHRIS—I WANT TO SEE YOU BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS. TO GET THINGS STRAIGHTENED OUT.
HOW? I ask.
YOU’LL SEE.
I was already nervous about later tonight.
Now I’m petrified.