From the hat down, p.7
From the Hat Down, page 7
That seemed okay. Friendly and straightforward. She moved to the next paragraph.
Here’s some news that’ll make you laugh: Mom’s coming to visit for my birthday and she’s trying again to scare me straight. She’s bringing some guy named Phil—a son of one of Ed’s business partners. Yes, I told her what I thought about that (and you know how I love talking to her) but no deal, she’s bringing him anyway. I was pissed at first but what can you do? Dad, Sean, and I have all had a good laugh about it. Fortunately, the DR’s full-up that weekend, so I’ll have to be helping out with the guests and Phil will just have to find solace elsewhere. Presumably heterosexual. And yes, I came out to my mom yet again. I do that at least once a year, as you know. Maybe it’ll stick some day. And maybe Wyoming will suddenly go liberal in the next elections. Ha ha.
Gina would groan and then probably laugh at that, Meg was sure. She knew Meg’s history with Irene. Meg read the next paragraph twice, wondering if she should delete it.
Anyway, I guess I’d better let you in on the latest Meg shit. Kate and I called it quits in November. It’d been coming for a while and I didn’t want to hang it around your neck over Christmas. Guess I just didn’t want to hang it around your neck at all, but there it is. She got the rest of her stuff a couple days ago. Yeah, I’m sad. But relieved. I wonder if that’s a bad thing to say. I’m not sure where I am with it, but I know it was the right thing to do. And no, that’s not the best lead-in to this, but yes, let me know when you’re in the States. Sean and I figured it’s been about five years since you and I were in the same space. Seems too long! Keep me posted on that, will you? All right, I’ll let you go. Just wanted to drop you a line and let you know you’re on my mind and I’m hoping everything’s okay. Hi to everybody and take care of yourself.
Meg
She highlighted the text in the last paragraph and her finger hovered over the “delete” button. Should she rewrite it? Would Gina read anything into that? She clicked elsewhere in the text to remove the highlighting and read the message again. God, she was being too uptight about this. Just send the damn thing.
She clicked on “send” and waited to make sure the message didn’t bounce back. Sometimes the servers overseas got a little testy. She looked through one of the catalogues then checked her inbox again. No, the message hadn’t come back. Good. She sighed with relief, though a little anxiety lingered in her gut. What would Gina think? Had Meg said anything that might be misinterpreted? Jesus, it was just an email. Like any other email. She logged out and left the office, accosted immediately by three wiggling canines who followed her to the horse barn. A ride with Destry, an athletic black quarter horse, always cleared her head and that’s exactly what she needed.
Chapter 5
Meg leaned back in her chair and put her booted feet up on the railing. She’d left the door to her rooms open, so she could hear the music from the old radio that sat on a side table near an overstuffed chair. Both the radio and the table it sat on had been in her rooms since her college days. The radio still worked fine, and she had tuned it to a classic country station on AM. The tinny strains of a Conway Twitty song she knew joined her on the veranda. She heard laughter from the nightly bonfire below, and a shower of sparks floated past, a signal that someone had tossed another piece of wood into the flames. The day’s last light still clung to the tops of the western mountains, like a guest reluctant to leave, and an evening breeze carried the smell of sweetgrass and smoke.
Footsteps sounded on the steps and she smiled. “Come on up.”
Alice appeared a few seconds later. In the light from the open door, Meg saw that she carried a bottle in one hand and a plate of cookies. She had put a blue flannel shirt on over her blouse and her hair was still up, but neither detracted from her appearance.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said.
“So I see. Let me get a couple more chairs.” Meg let the front legs of her own chair clunk onto the wood underfoot. She went inside and retrieved two more folding chairs from the front room, which she set up next to hers, facing the railing.
Alice placed the bottle on the chair closest to Meg and used her free hand to take the two plastic cups from the crook of her other arm. She set those and the cookies on the chair and unscrewed the bottle’s cap. No label, but from its color, Meg guessed it was Scotch.
“Wow. I get the good stuff.”
Alice smiled. “Every once in a while you warrant it.”
“Do you still hide it in the back of the pantry?”
She laughed as she poured each cup a quarter full and handed one to her, then put the cap back on the bottle and set it next to her chair. “Sounds like I might have to change hiding places.” She picked up her own and sat down in the empty chair closest to her with what sounded like a grateful sigh.
Meg sat down again, too, the chair with the cookies between them. “Long day?”
“No more than usual. But there are some days that do seem to go on. And on and on.” She took a drink and leaned back.
Meg took a sip, as well. Yep. Alice’s good Scotch, smooth with just a touch of smoky peat flavor. The plastic cups didn’t detract from its flavor. She stared into hers for a while. “Kate came by on Monday to pick up the rest of her stuff.”
“So your dad said. How did it go?”
“Went as well as something like that could, I guess. Kind of sad.”
Alice clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Always is.”
“But kind of a relief.”
“Then it was the right thing to do.”
Meg picked up a cookie, leaned back, and put her feet on the railing again. She took a bite and smiled. “Scotch and chocolate chip cookies. You sure know how to make a girl feel better.”
“Isn’t much a cookie can’t fix. Or Scotch.”
She chuckled. “Classy joint you’ve got here, Alice. Fine single malt and chocolate chip cookies. I’ll be stopping by again.” She raised her half-eaten cookie in a salute.
“I look forward to it.” Alice selected a cookie and took a bite. She chewed slowly, almost meditatively. “Not bad.”
“The Scotch is a good chaser. I’m surprised no one’s thought of this and marketed it.”
“They have thought of it. They’re just too embarrassed to admit they indulge in this combo.” Alice took another sip from her cup.
Meg stared at the sky, an endless dark sea that flowed over the mountaintops. “Do you think I’m hard to reach?” She looked over at Alice.
“I think everybody has their walls. I think you keep some parts of you under wraps. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that, because you are a sensitive soul. And careful. Selective about who you let in and for what.”
“Do you think it might interfere with. . .I don’t know. Relationships?”
Alice took another sip and adjusted her chair so she could better look at Meg. “Maybe. The trick is trust.”
“But even people you know can mess with trust.”
“True. But people who genuinely love you will never willingly do that. They’ll make mistakes. Say things out of frustration and maybe even anger. But a healthy person always takes responsibility for that and works hard not to do it again. A healthy person respects you and herself.”
Meg took her feet off the railing and leaned over for another cookie. “Sean said I need to work on letting people in.”
Alice smiled. “Maybe you need to work on letting the right people in.”
“Yeah, I think that’s what she meant.”
“Do you think Kate could’ve been one of those?”
Meg didn’t answer for a while. “No. But I guess I feel guilty for not letting her in more and for not trying harder to work it out.”
Alice tsked. “The easy answer to that is that you weren’t in love with her. You let her in on some levels, but not on others.”
“I don’t know. I think I was a little in love with her. And I do like her. I was attracted to her, too. At least for a while.”
“Are you in love with her now?”
“No.”
Alice shrugged. “Being in love with someone involves more than the initial attraction to that person. Attractions can come and go, even with someone who’s been in your life for a while. But being in love with someone—that’s something special. It doesn’t always happen. You can love someone on many different levels, but that little spark that allows you to feel in love. . .that’s something else.”
Meg shot her a look.
“You’ll know if the love is real,” Alice continued, “and if it’s deep enough to weather those little bumps in the road. A lot of give and take, an intimate relationship. Maybe the question you should ask yourself is what you’re willing to invest and whether the woman on the other end of that is really up to what you have to give. Or a good match for it.”
Meg swallowed the cookie, thinking about Gina, and how she’d asked Meg not to shut her out, not to push her away. She knew the kind of love Alice was talking about. “I think maybe I am hard to reach,” she said softly. “And I don’t seem to be having much luck in terms of relationships.”
Alice chuckled. “Honey, we all have trouble with those. You’re at your most vulnerable with the people who mean the most to you, and there’s a whole other layer when physical intimacy is involved.” She picked up another cookie. “Nobody wants to bare their souls to just anybody. That’s a huge risk. But there could be huge rewards as a result.”
Meg sat in silence for a while and stared into her cup. “Gina sent me a birthday card,” she said before she could check herself, not sure why she wanted to bring Gina up.
“I was just thinking about her this morning. Where is she these days?”
“Turkey.”
“That’s a country I’ve always wanted to visit. Especially the markets in Istanbul.” She finished her cookie. “How is she?”
“Seems fine. A little tired of being overseas. Said she might be applying for a job in the States.” Meg traced the lip of her cup with her fingertip.
Alice looked over at her. “Would you want to see her if that happens?”
She hesitated. “Sure. I mean, if it works out that way.”
“Well, if you’re still emailing her, send her my regards. And tell her she’s welcome here any time.”
Meg smiled. “I always do.”
Alice’s cell phone rang. She rolled her eyes and took it out of the breast pocket of her flannel shirt. “Yes?” she said in her imperious “kitchen queen” voice. “All done,” she said. “Everything’s done. Mmm hmm. . . talking to your daughter.”
Meg smiled again and took another cookie off the plate, glad that the phone had interrupted further conversation about Gina. She was in a weird place with that, and it felt strangely raw, thinking about the first time Gina had been at the ranch ten years ago. Around this time, a few days before Meg’s birthday. A lump formed in her throat but she forced it down.
“Uh-huh,” Alice said to Stan. “Fine. Well, let me check.” She moved the phone away from her mouth. “How are you, Meg?”
“Fine, Dad,” she said loud enough that he could hear.
Alice put the phone back to her mouth. “There, you see? Yes, I’m fine, too. . .uh-huh. I’ll see you later.” She finished and put the phone back in her pocket.
“But is he okay?” Meg said.
“He worries about you. He doesn’t always tell you that, but he does.”
“So he probably told you that my mom has decided to come to the ranch for my birthday.” She gave the statement a long-suffering tone.
“Of course. He knew we’d need time to prepare for that,” Alice teased.
“Did he tell you about Phil?”
“Well, Phil is part of the package visit, so, yes. He did tell me.”
“I was thinking you could meet him first. That’ll guarantee that he’ll crush out on you and I’ll be in the clear and won’t have to explain why there’s no chance with me.”
“I might be a few years out of his league, sweetie.” She winked, then became serious. “I take it your mom is still insisting that you need to change?” She put emphasis on “change.”
Meg groaned softly. “Yeah. She’s still trying to get me to see somebody about it. As if I have a skin condition or something. She sent me her flight itinerary and at the bottom was a link to an ex-gay ministry. Not the first time she’s been that obvious, but it gets pretty old. And annoying.”
Alice clucked disapprovingly.
“I haven’t told Dad. I don’t want him to know that she’s still pushing the ex-gay bullshit on me. He shouldn’t have to deal with it, since he doesn’t talk to her much, anyway. No sense getting him upset.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“Every damn time she brings it up. Coming out is like a regular occurrence with her. Like she’s somebody with short-term memory loss. Every few months, I have to tell her again.” Meg sat back, irritated. “I tried to talk her out of coming for my birthday. And I tried to talk her out of bringing Phil, but she’d already bought the tickets. I mean, who does that? Tries to talk their own mother out of coming to see them for a birthday?”
Alice reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t feel guilty about who you want to exclude from your life. Blood doesn’t always make a family. And don’t worry about her. You have a support network here. I won’t let her or Phil try to make you straight.”
Meg laughed. “That’s refreshing.”
Alice smiled. “Honey, we love you just the way you are. Why anyone would want to slice out a piece of your soul to fit some preconceived idea is ridiculous.”
She shrugged. “I think she honestly believes she’s going to save me from hell if she can just get me to be straight. Which won’t happen, but the next best thing is apparently celibacy.”
“Hell is a relative term. And it’s not her life, is it?”
“So I’ve told her. Although right now, celibacy might not be a bad idea for me. Might help clear my head a little.” Of both past and present, she added silently.
“That’s what everybody says when a relationship ends.”
“For good reason.”
Alice chuckled. “Life is full of surprises, sweetie. You never know who or what is around the next corner. And I know from experience that you’re going to be fine.”
Meg finished her Scotch. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’ve watched you over the years. You’re a special kind of woman, Meg. And no matter what happens, you’ll find your way.”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she said, an image of Gina in her mind. “Big ones.”
“We all do. The trick is trying not to repeat them.”
“I should be so lucky.” Meg put her empty cup on the chair next to the bottle. “Thanks, Alice. So how are you?”
“Busy as usual. Everybody’s fine. Just heard from David. He’ll be coming home from Afghanistan in two months.”
“That’s great news.”
“I’m hoping to get him out here for a visit. The peace and quiet might do him good. I thought I’d use the ‘you’re my favorite nephew ploy’.”
“Hell, Alice, you can get anybody to do anything.” She grinned. “I hope he comes out here. I’d love to see him.” Meg picked up another cookie. “We’ve talked about my relationship status. How’s yours?”
“It is what it is,” she said.
“Well, aren’t you the woman of mystery.”
Alice gave her a little grin. “A girl’s got to have some secrets.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely fair.” Meg pretended to pout, but she knew Alice wouldn’t elaborate. She rarely did when it came to her own love life.
Alice stood and picked up the plate with the cookies and bottle. “I’ll leave the cups. You never know when you’ll need them.”
“True.” Meg finished the cookie.
“You want me to leave the rest?” Alice motioned with the plate.
She shook her head. “Had just the right number. Thanks.”
Alice moved over to her and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You’ll be fine, hon. Good night.”
“Yeah. ’Night.” Meg stood and flipped a switch on the inside of the door for the outside veranda lights so Alice could see on the stairs. Meg waited at the top until she heard the back door to the kitchen open. She put the chairs away and rinsed the cups out in her kitchenette. Her quarters had functioned as an apartment for guests in the 1970s during renovations on the hotel. Then it became hers when she was a junior in high school, because Alice had convinced Stan that Meg needed her own space. She smiled as she set the cups on a paper towel, thinking about that. Alice had figured a lot of things out. And she was so right. Blood doesn’t always make a family.
Kitty Wells was singing in the next room that it wasn’t God who made honky tonk angels and Meg softly sang along. Gina had known a lot of country songs, much to Meg’s surprise. She liked the melodies, she’d said. Country was basically blues with a different spin. And then she’d sing a lonesome cowboy song in a melancholy, aching tone that would slide right under Meg’s skin.
