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I smile, happier than I can explain.
“I guess this place is just kind of magical like that,” I say. “How did you find it anyway?”
Dad shrugs, exchanging a look with my mom who pivots toward the cabinet and opens it, then closes it again.
“It’s just a short term rental… you know. Word gets around,” my dad explains.
I nibble on a corner of toast. “Short-term? So… are you on assignment? What’s your new project?”
Dad stirs his coffee. “No… I mean yes. There's a new assignment. But it's not here.”
My eyebrows go up. “What do you mean? We just got here, didn’t we? How long will you guys be gone?”
Dad finishes the last couple bites of his eggs, then stands up and scrapes his plate into the garbage and rinses it in the sink.
“Dad? What's going on?”
He turns around, holding his hands up with the palms out. “I know we just got here, but… I mean, we haven't really unpacked yet, right?”
“What do you mean?” I look at my mother. “Mom? Are you going to say anything?”
She smiles at me, sipping her coffee, almost like she's having a conversation with the fairies that live at the bottom of her mug instead of me.
“You're not saying we’re leaving, right? Tell me you're not saying that. Dad?”
He doesn't say anything for a second. He looks at the ceiling. He looks at the sliding glass doors.
“Dad? Seriously. What is going on here?”
“We need to go to Wyoming,” my mother's sighs.
I glance at her, shocked. I can't remember the last time that she said anything so literal, so commonplace. And the words came just the right out of her like she talks all the time. But when was the last time I heard her? Honestly, I can't remember.
“Wyoming? What's back in Wyoming? Why now? Literally.… we been here two days!”
“White Buffalo,” my dad explains, his voice animated. “It’s the same ranch, remember? But there’s a new calf, even. This is so exciting! A chance to show people something they've never seen before, something mystical to the Native Americans people. A chance to create empathy…”
“I don’t want to go,” I blurt out. “You guys can handle the yurt without me.”
My dad pauses, squinting. “If you don't want to come, your grandmother said you could stay with her. Until school starts again, that is. If you want.”
I tap my finger against the formica countertop. “No… I want to stay here. I don't want to go, like, at all.”
Dad sighs. “Vanessa… I know this is sudden. We usually like to spread things out more, but this just came up. Just got the call the calf was born yesterday.”
“That’s amazing. I know you’ll make a beautiful film. But, seriously. I mean it, Dad. I'm not going. I'm going to stay here.”
“It's not an option,” he shrugs. “I already canceled the lease. The moving truck will be back here in two days. We've got a real log cabin all lined up this time! No tent!”
Something bubbles up inside me, something angry. All of a sudden I can't stand the idea of packing up again. Not that I loved being in college for two years, but at least I wasn't roaming all over the place constantly. At least I got to stay there long enough to get a pile of dirty laundry going.
“Can't I take the lease?” I suggest. “I mean, I'm an adult. I could do it.”
He glances at my mom, who is still smiling at her coffee cup. Dammit, I sort of want to throw my toast at her.
“There's really only two options: come with us, or go to grandma's,” he insists.
“No, there are more options than that,” I reply. I feel myself getting red, getting angry. I know I am acting a little bit childish, but what the hell? Why am I being treated like a 12-year-old? “You know what, I'm going to just take a little walk,” I announce.
