“But we always do that together,”Isaid, pausing the intro to the film, forcingJento look at me. “Doyou not want my help anymore?”
“I can handle the finances,Ted.Youshouldn’t have to worry about all that, especially during your time here.”
I frowned, the tightness in my chest constricting– “your time here” sounded more like, “yourlimitedtime here”.
“ButIlike doing that with you.Ilike being your partner in all this.”
Jen sighed, and when she looked over at me and held my gaze,Irecognised the soft sadness in her eyes.Itwas the look she gave me when she was thinking aboutMom.AndIunderstood; she’d originally wanted to do all this with her sister.Ithad been their dream.Butwe’d both lost her, andIdidn’t like feeling cut out, especially after everythingI’dput into the farm over the years.
Still,Iknew better than to press whenJengot like this.Shecould turn from casual to upset in a nanosecond, andIdidn’t want to be the reason she felt sad.EvenifIhad to carry the sadness instead.SoIun-paused the film and tried to forget about the finances, and the wayJenhad been cutting me out of more and more parts of the farm.Instead,Iran my finger around the pendant dangling from my neck and thought aboutMom.
There had been a time, not long ago, thatIcould have said anything toJenand not worried about how she’d react.OtherthanMom, she’d been the closest person to me my entire life, emotionally if not always physically.But, somewhere along the way, things had changed.Ionly wishedIunderstood why.
* * *
The next evening,MaggieandIworked together to move some hive boxes.Oneof our more experimental batches of mead hadn’t been great, so we’d moved the hive itself to a new box last fall, andMaggiehad spent much of the off season moving them bit by bit to their new location in the field out front.Now, we just needed to move the old hive boxes, which needed someTLC.Maggiewas on the mini forklift, loading them onto the trailer attached to theATV, whichI’ddrive up the orchard so we could move them again into the barn.Itwas all very complicated, but it beat carrying the heavy boxes one by one up the hill.Ilooked down at the tree roots gnarling the landscape and thought of the keg at theRenFaire.Iwas surprised to find that the memory brought a grin to my face rather than a scowl.
While we worked,Maggieasked how things were going since coming back.Iknew she meant it casually; maybe even rhetorically.MaggieandIwere usually work-in-silence types, after all.Butmaybe it was becauseI’dbeen seeing more of her at dinners here and there, watching the casual comfort she andJenshared, or maybe it was how badly it was eating at me.Regardlessof the reason,Idecided to open up about what was going on.
“Jen’s started cutting me out of some of the decision-making,”Iadmitted. “Likethe finances.Iknow she’s used a lot of the budget to supplement the grant to payChloe, butIdon’t know why she doesn’t want me involved.”
“She’s just trying to do what’s best for you,”Maggiesaid, sipping from her thermos of tea, sounding very much like she andJenhad actively discussed this.IlikedMaggie, andIliked her forJen, if that was indeed what was happening, butIwasn’t sureIliked knowing they talked about me. “Andfor her, too.Shedoesn’t want you spending all your time here crunching numbers.You’remuch better off out here with me, doing this sort of thing.”
“I know,”Isaid, shuffling a hive box into place on the trailer. “Doesn’tmeanIlike it.”
Maggie squinted at me in the dark. “Youcan’t be everywhere,Ted.Letpeople help.”
I stopped working for a moment, staring at the dirt beneath my nails. “Idon’t want to be obsolete.”
She snorted. “You’renot a tractor, love.You’rea person.ApersonJenloves very much.You’renot getting replaced, even if you wanted to.”
I resolved to borrow some ofMaggie’sconfidence – at least enough to get through the day’s work.Shewas right,Idecided; whether or notIwas involved in the finances didn’t change what we needed to get done.Didn’tmake the hive boxes move themselves.Didn’trepoint the retaining wall or crossbreed flower varieties or make soap.Fornow, onlyIcould do that, so maybeIshould just keep my head down, actually.
But, no matter how much my brain was on board with whatMaggiesaid, the pinch in my chest wouldn’t let me really believe it.
* * *
The notificationthat popped up on my phone the next morning sent a wave of anxiety coursing through me:
DADBIRTHDAY
I hadn’t been at home to celebrate with him sinceIwas a kid– sinceMomhad still been with us, andJenhad still been married to a man, andGwenynenhadn’t existed.Butevery year sinceMomhad died,Dad’sbirthday celebrations had become more and more distressing.
“Don’t forget to ring your dad today,”Jensaid as soon as she came downstairs to put the kettle on.Iwas pretty sure she’d set herself the same reminder.
“I won’t,”Isaid honestly–Icouldn’t have forgotten ifI’dtried.WouldIavoid thinking about it as much as possible?Sure.Icouldn’t ring him until later, anyway.Thesweet spot would be just before bed.Ifhe was still on the wagon, he’d be home from whatever he’d done with his morning– beforeIleft, it had been volunteering at some ecological charity– and, if he had relapsed, he’d be awake but not yet slurring his words, which meantIwouldn’t have to feel that visceral sense of guilt for not being there the whole timeIspoke to him.
I did my best to put it out of my mind, but the coin toss loomed in the air all day asIsheared back the geraniums’ first flush and tied in some of our climbers.Iwondered every moment whetherI’dget the dadI’dcome to expect– the one who could barely remember what month it was, or ifIwas even in the country– or the increasingly rare dad who would actually want to hear from me on his birthday.
WhenIlay in bed– alone, asWillowwas curled up withJentonight– and my first call rang out,Ifeared the worst.Isat perched on the edge of my bed, my hair wet from the shower, soaking my shoulders through my pyjamas.Iwiped the wetness off the screen of my phone soIcould try him again.
One ring.Tworings.Three.Four.Fi?—
“Teddy, my girl!” he answered, his voice bright and clear, andIexhaled long and hard in relief.Butthen the background noise came into focus, andIcould hear classic rock and clinking glasses.Hewas at a bar.
“Hey,Dad,”Isaid, already resolving to keep this conversation as short asIcould.EvenifIknewI’dfeel bad about it for weeks afterward. “Happybirthday.”
“Thank you, baby.”
