Page 27 of Alive and Wells

He punches me hard on the shoulder before chugging the rest of his beer and walking out. For years, I used to leave the ranch entirely, so I didn’t have to worry about a chance encounter. But I’ve earned my right to be on this property, and I’m not going to let him make me feel like I can’t be here anymore. Instead, I stock the fridge with beer, watch the television I only turn on twice a year, and wait until morning.

Half an hour later, that’s exactly what I’m doing when I feel compelled to try my hand at texting. My big thumbs fumble over the screen, typing out the miniscule letters.

Austin:Hey

Within seconds, my phone chimes. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing that she’s able to reply so quickly. I’m tempted to go to the window and look over at her cabin, although I’ve already learned I can’t see anything except the front porch from here.

Cecily:Wow. Here I thought you were joking about texting.

Cecily:Aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of family dinner?

Austin:Wasn’t invited

Sure, it’s a lie. But only because Denny can’t help himself—Jackson gave up trying to guilt-trip me years ago. In fact, until Odessa was born, he didn’t care for these dinners either. But now he has a kid whoapparentlydeserves a grandfather. Whether our father deserves a relationship with his grandkid is questionable, but it’s not up to me.

Cecily:Oof. That’s rough.

Cecily:What are you doing then?

Austin:WatchingHappy Daysand drinking beer

Cecily:Sorry, I think I have the wrong number

Cecily:I thought I was talking to Austin, but it seems I’m texting a 70-year-old right now

Austin:Funny

Cecily:Do you want company? I cannot confirm nor deny whether I stole some dinner from the big house before I left. But I might be convinced to share…

A breathy laugh vibrates through my chest. Everybody—other than Cecily, I guess—knows the only people I talk to on Mom’s days are Denny and Jackson. And, frankly, after having to fend off Denny’s dinner invite, I’m considering adding them to the ‘do not disturb’ list going forward.

I don’t cry about my mom. Not anymore. But I still need the day. So the instant tug in my chest at her question startles me. At the best of times, I’m terrible at acting like a normal human around her. Today, of all days, I don’t stand a chance at constructing a logical thought.

There are plenty of rational reasons why I should say no.And yet.

Austin:How did you manage to steal pulled pork?

Cecily:And chocolate cake… I can’t share details over text in case we’ve been compromised.

Austin:Better come tell me about it in person then.

Cecily:Be there in five :) Don’t start the next episode without me, old man.

Holy shit.I invited Cecily here. Right now. Sweat forms on my palms and my head spins.

In a panic, I race to pick up the few odds and ends lying around. Thank God this place is small—one bedroom, one bathroom, and the main living space has hardly enough room for a couch, fireplace, and tiny kitchen. I change out of my sweatpants into jeans and a plaid button-up, brush my teeth…

Why am I brushing my teeth? Get it together, man. She’s not kissing you.

Just as I’m starting to catch my breath, a knock sounds on the thick wooden front door.

“Youhave a welcome mat? Liar.” Her playful tone smashes into me before the door’s fully open. “You should have a mat that says, ‘fuck off’.”

Two plates balance precariously in each hand—one heaped with pulled pork sandwiches and the other with chocolate cake. A smile lilts across her face as I take the food, my fingers brushing against hers. She’s dressed in leggings and an oversized hoodie, with her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. A few wisps stick out haphazardly. From the looks of her, she was planning to have a low-key night, too.

“Were you planning on having dinner with somebody, or do you always steal enough food for an entire family?”

She brushes past me in the doorway. The lightest bump of her arm against mine leaves me with a head rush. A belly flutter. A knock in my chest.

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