Chapter 4
Ali Kat
I walk through the front door of the house I once called home feeling a mixture of joy and dread. I grew up here, played here, loved here. So long ago.
The familiar smell of country-fried steaks wafts from the kitchen. It’s like I’ve traveled back through time, back into my childhood. Nothing has changed.
“Don’t you be trekkin’ mud inta my house,” Mother calls from the other room, and I look down to see that my pale pink leather and satin slip-ons are a mess of brown filth.
Crap!
I slide them off, putting them onto the rack beside the door, which is silver and not the bronze I remember.
My brother barges in behind me, bags in hand, his face lit with fury.
“Jesus Christ, Tam, what the hell did you pack in these things?” he grunts.
I cringe at the use of my birth named, the first thing I dropped when I moved to Hollywood. “I told you, it wasn’t me. Just-just get the bags up to my room.”
“Take ‘em to the barn,” Mother commands, and I look over to see her standing a few feet away, spatula in hand. “Shoulda told ya sooner, but everything’s happening so quickly.”
Her hair has greyed slightly, and there are a few more fine lines, but she’s still lovely in the way that she always was. More handsome than pretty, but a fine woman to look at nonetheless.
“The barn?” I say, startled. “There’s no way—”
“After ya visited last time, some six years ago, I had yer bedroom transformed into the sewing room I always wanted.”
I feel a sinking sensation in my gut. The news should come as no surprise. After all, our relationship has only grown more and more strained over the years, but to hear that I no longer have my childhood bedroom makes me feel as though I’ve been erased.
“The barn is…gross,” I finally say, “and it smells.”
“I think you’ll find it’s not so bad. We remodeled the loft into four separate suites, and it’s not so stuffy. You’ll have a lot more room too.”
I hear the door open behind me, though this time, it’s not Jake.
It’s Garrett Flint.
He’s a six-foot-five wall of bronze, hard working muscle that takes the breath from my lungs. There’s a hard edge to him, looking more bad boy than prim and proper. He’s the last person I’d expect to see coming through that door.
“You boys best take those to the barn,” Mom chides. “Now, git!”
Garrett bows slightly, cocking a grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, lugging my weatherworn bags back out the door.
Last I was aware, Garrett and Jake hated each other’s guts, and they’d say so openly, often in each other’s presence. I was best friends with Garrett’s sister, which only served to increase their animosity, but I guess that’s all just water under the bridge. A lot can change over time, and I can’t say I’m too upset about this development.
After Garrett and Jake leave, Mother trains her eyes on me. “You look a mess,” she says, which isn’t a lie. “Why don’t ya go clean up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
She disappears into the kitchen, and I shuffle to the washroom.
It looks exactly like it had when I was last here, down to the bar of oatmeal soap in the soap tray. It makes me smile, but it does nothing to alleviate the forlorn shroud I’m enveloped in.
“Hey,” Prim’s voice calls softly from behind me.
I turn to see my sister, who is not the skinny beanpole I remember her as. She’s at a height with me now, maybe even an inch taller, with well-developed arm muscles from her work on the farm. Her hips are wider. She’s no longer the bright and bubbly girl I remember from when I last saw her two years ago, when I managed to convince mom and dad to send her to me for a week over the summer.
Prim was so excited and wanted to see every part of the city, but in the end, our relationship had forever changed, and she no longer gazed at me adoringly.
I had asked her why she looked so glum, and she replied, “Everything happens so fast here. You blink an eye, and you miss something.”
