Matt gives a bit of a cringe with the twist of his mouth. “Not so laidback then, was I?”
“No,” I quickly reassure him. “I kind of liked it. How you don’t let most things bother you, but when it seems important you can have this. . .intensity.”
“It doesn’t bother you? The intensity part?”
“No. I kinda like it, since it isn’t about everything, all of the time.”
“I get that from my grandmother, I think. She was the parent I knew, before I was adopted, and she was always trying to help me not be such a serious kid.”
I flip the pancakes, keeping them nice and even. In the war inside me between showing too much and making something Matt likes, pleasing Matt will win every time. I remember the look on his face when he tried my cake. “Were you close?”
“We were good for each other. I like to think so anyway.” Matt plates our food as I quickly clean up my own mess, although most I did as I went, a habit I can’t break.
After we sit down and he takes a bite, Matt quickly praises me. “These are excellent, Theo, thank you.” He also has a heavy hand with both honey and syrup on top of fruit, so I guess he wasn’t joking about his sweet tooth.
“No, thank you. Everything you make is amazing. But I bet you hear that all the time.”
His blue eyes find mine. “Not from you, I don’t.”
We go on walk around the farm after that, and it is cold, snow dusting the air. The warm time in the pool at the big house seems like another season ago. I still haven’t gotten used to the whiplash of the weather in the mountains. But Matt has me bundled up—gloves, hat, heavy coat.
A path by the stream curves around the base of the mountains rising from the valley the farm sits in. He’s not far from Baylor’s place, a quick drive with the ATVs housed in a barn. Walking, Baylor’s cabin takes a while to even come into view.
“So tell me about your family,” he says. We move away from the roar of the stream and enter another aspen and evergreen glen.
“What do you want to know? I mean, my mom was my only real family. . .”
“Didn’t sound like it. Sounded like you were close with your grandfather. Frank, right?”
“Yeah. We were.” Or so I had thought.
“Seems like there is more to it.”
I look up at the grey-blue sky, snow melting against my skin as soon as it falls. I shouldn’t be so conflicted about sharing parts of myself. If anything, Matt is asking fewer questions than most people would. Still, my life story is the last thing I can share.
Just like keeping this thing between us to only sex, I’ll give him what I can. Parts. True parts.
As we walk on, some birds take off from some nearby shrub brush, and I swing my foot at the snow. Thank goodness some kid left their snow boots, and they ended up in the storage room, or I would be miserable in wet shoes right now.
“There was a family business. A few, actually. My fath—my mom’s husband and his brother run a successful one. It actually started with my grand—my mom’s husband’s mother’s family.” Avoiding the titles I always associated with the people I thought were in my family is difficult, so I give up. “Most of the rest of the family worked on the business my grandmother’s family started. But my grandfather loved one business and really put in the work to make it something. Anyway, he trained me right along with my cousin. I . . .” I shrug, trying to find the word. “Well, I loved it, honestly. Frank, my grandfather, he never acted like I was any different, even when my mom was gone.” Not then, he didn’t. “When I was younger, being good at the family business made feel like I belonged, you know? I was more suited than my cousin, even.”
“But you aren’t in the family business now.”
Only barely, and I can’t tell you about it.
“Things . . .changed when my grandfather passed. The truth was that not all of the family felt the same way about. . . my role. So, I guess they didn’t appreciate our closeness, either. What I thought was going to be my life’s work ended up . . .” I can’t tell him it was taken from me, although that’s how I feel. “It ended up being a path I couldn’t take.”
“I’m sorry, Theo.”
Me too, and so is my expensive education. And my dream of making cake in downtown Little Rock just like Frank had done, and Frank’s uncle before him. Just like he taught me since the time I had to stand on a chair to see and learn. I would make my own miniature versions of whatever Frank made right along with him, and we would sample it together when the real thing was in the oven.
I’m sorry I was so estranged from Nico I didn’t know the plan I thought was in place my entire life didn’t exist. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for the people I thought were my family. I’m sorry no one told me and for being a fool who didn’t know. I’m sorry I have to meet Deny in a few days and tell him I’m short on the money. I’m sorry for the whole mess.
“Family means different things to different people, I guess.” That’s all I allow myself to say on the topic.
We walk on. Matt takes my hand, then lets me explore and wander on my own. He lobs a snowball my way, but the dry snow doesn’t pack well, so it rains down on me like a snow shower.
“Does Baylor come out to your place a lot when you are here?” I ask as we make our way back. We’ve circled around, now approaching Matt’s cabin the way we drove in. Baylor’s cabin is no longer visible behind us.
