Page 77 of Play Me
“I was hoping you’d choose that option because I need to pee.”
“All right. Let’s head inside.”
The steps creak as we climb onto the porch and find the screen door closed. It pulls open with the same hitch it’s had my entire life, and something about that makes me smile.
“The bathroom is down the hallway,” I say, pointing to my right. “First door on your left.”
“Thanks.”
I take a deep breath, filling my nostrils with the scent of cinnamon apples. I can’t help but wonder if Hartley burns the same candles Mom did or if the scent has leached into the walls. It’s the smell ofhome.
I mosey around the living room, taking in the similarities and differences since I was here last. A new mounted deer head, a size bigger than Pap’s, hangs on the back wall. We never thought anyone would break that record, but it looks like someone did.
Pictures line the built-in cabinets surrounding the television. I take them one by one, many of them in the same spot they have for years. Miniature rocking chairs that Hart and I used askids are next to the fireplace. The television, though, is new and much bigger—a flat-screen that looks like a picture frame. Mom would’ve hated it. I find that amusing.
“There you are.” Astrid comes into the room. “Your brother has the best hand soap that I’ve ever smelled.” She sniffs her fingers. “It’s vanilla, I think. Maybe with blueberries.”
“You’ll have to ask Cathy. I’m sure Hartley has no idea.”
She moves to the window overlooking the backyard. “Who’s Cathy?”
“She’s worked here since I was nine or ten years old. She takes care of the house and took care of Pap. Mom was an ER nurse and worked long shifts, and Dad was busy with the ranch, so Cathy came in and took care of things while everyone was busy.”
“I love that you all lived here together.”
I join her at the window. “Yeah, I loved it, too. Pap had aPlayboysubscription and a cigar habit. When you’re a teenage boy, those are great things to have at your disposal.”
“You were a handful as a kid, weren’t you?”
“You could say that.”
She grins softly. “How much of this do you own?”
“Me? I don’t own shit, but Hart has over a thousand acres.”
“Oh. Wow.”
I slide a hand in my pocket. “It’s pretty impressive. He has … I don’t know how many head of cattle. Horses. Chickens. Goats.” I study her before I speak again. “Want to take a ride around the property?”
She smiles. “Yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”
We exit the house and head outside. She grabs one of the water bottles from my truck that I bought at Piper’s, so I hop on the side-by-side and pick her up.
Astrid giggles as we whip around the side of the house, leaving tracks in the yard that I’m sure Hartley will yell at meabout later. I hate to tell my brother, but it’s worth it. Hearing Astrid enjoy herself is worth all the shit he’ll undoubtedly give me, because I sense this doesn’t happen often with her.
The more I see Astrid without her trusty clipboard, the more I kind of like her. I find myself wanting to know more about her, wondering what makes this confusing woman tick. She handles herself with complete confidence in some moments. In others, she seems almost fearful.Why?
“Look at that,” she says, pointing at a little spring trickling out of the side of a rock ledge. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I wheel us over to it and slow down. “Want to get out and take a drink?”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to die of dysentery.”
“Dysentery?” I snort. “Really?”
She wrinkles her button nose. “Fine. I don’t want a parasite. Better?”
“You won’t get a parasite.”
