Page 10 of Something to Talk About

“Anytime you wanna talk, my door is always open. The next time I see you, I’ll give you my phone number. Russell, who I’m assuming is a family friend?” I ask.

“Yes, adopted via my sister. The Johnsons mainlyadopted her soon-to-be husband, but yes, more family than friends. They’ve been helping me get this place back in order,” she offers a look into her life.

“He mentioned they’d be here a few more days before heading back home. You need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?” Lennon’s eyes scan down the length of my body. I see her legs from beneath her towel inch closer to one another. Jesus, fuck. My imagination runs wild. Is she doing that to help an ache building inside her, or is she trying to find warmth?

“I will, thank you again. Oh, and, Asher?” I’m starting to head back to my place when she says my name.

“Yeah, Lennon?”

“Your little girl is beautiful.” It takes a me a minute to realize she’s talking about Briar.

“Thanks. Briar is my niece. You’ll probably see and hear her from time to time.” Her chest rises and falls. I wonder if that’s from a sense of relief or what.

“You’re welcome, and thank you again.”

“Never a problem. See you around.” This time when I turn around, I do it slowly, waiting to hear her door shut and the turn to lock, only then do I head back to my place. My new neighbor has got me all fucked up, and I’m finding I like it, a whole hell of a lot.

8

LENNIE

Iwalk around the house taking everything in, still in awe of everything we accomplished in the short amount of time. The walls and ceilings are painted a soft creamy beige highlighting the wood along the floorboards, doorways, and a few built-ins. All of the boxes are broken down and on the porch to either recycle or when I get the chance to find a local on-line group that could use them. A shiver runs down my spine thinking about social media. Well before my divorce was final, I deactivated all the apps. I’ve yet to dip my toes back into the mess of all messes. I’ll probably have to jump back on the train now that I’m in a new community and want to help others out. Of course, that’ll take me forever at first because I need to clean my shit up. I never posted a lot. Still, there’s years upon years’ worth of memories that need to come down.

I’ll do that one day, not today.

I go about closing the new light-filtering curtains in theliving area, turning off lights along the way while shutting my house down for the night. Another purchase I had to give in to from Catherine and Russell. I love them, love that they want to help so much, but goodness, the guilt that consumed me each time they slid their card across the machine had me crippled with anxiety. I thanked them profusely, offered to pay them back or fly up to Wyoming to repay the favor. You know, once I have some time off accrued at work. Essentially, it’ll be maybe a year or so before it happens. There are long weekends I’ll be able to hop on a plane to visit. The first will have to be to Clay and Minnie’s, then to the Johnsons.

There are still some places in my house that are bare, but it’s nothing I can’t fix over time. The majority is done, and I can’t fathom shopping or painting for a very long time. Except I saw the state of the exterior while pulling weeds and setting up the patio furniture. Sometime soon, I’ll either need to get quotes to have it professionally painted or do it myself. I’m sure I’ll get sticker shock, so I’ll instead rent a pressure washer and spend every spare weekend painting it on my own.

I grab my phone and book off the telephone table, a gift of sorts. Aunt Estelle left a few pieces behind. This one has to be my favorite and makes me wish I had a house phone like Clay does. I don’t need one, but I’m thinking the next time I have a few extra bucks and time to peruse the thrift stores, I’ll find an old rotary-style telephone. For now, I’m using it as a resting place for my cell phone, book of choice, notepad, and a pen.

My phone lights up with an alert. I look at the screen expecting it to be an e-mail or a notification about a game Iplay where you blast blocks. It’s not; it’s the family group chat.

Children of the Johnsonsis the group chat name instead ofChildren of the Corn. Apparently, Trey is the culprit of coming up with this name, whereas before, the name wasFamily Herd.A too basic and boring name for the Johnson brother. The messages start coming one right after the other. I unlock my phone and scroll to the top to read the first one.

Momma Catherine: Hey, just checking in with everyone. How’s everyone doing?

Lawson: That’s good. Everything is good here.

I see that he’s sent a picture of his family of three—him, Juniper, and their daughter, Jasmine.

Momma Catherine: I sure do miss my grandbabies.

Ryland: Same here. No fires to put out. That’s a win in my book.

Poppa Russell: Don’t be talking about no fires, boy. You know what that’ll do to your mother.

Mae: We’re at the cabin, checking in and having a quick getaway. I hope you’re enjoying your trip.

JW: Muting y’all. It’s time for me to have some funwith my woman.

“Well, just tell everyone exactly what you’re up to, JW,” I say with a chuckle.

Minnie: TMI! Love you all. Check in with pictures tomorrow.

My sister sounds like me when she went on her cross-country trip.

Me: Ditto to Minnie on all of it. Love you guys. I’ll check in after work tomorrow <3

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