Celeb Crush (5 page)

“What did you get me?!” he demands, his eyes sparkling in anticipation.

“Damn, I just got here.”  I shoo him back so I can open my door.  “What makes you think I got you something?”

Talon rolls his eyes in that exaggerated nine-year old way.  “You always get me something.  So where is it?”

“It’s in the backseat,” I say, relenting.  “In the red shopping bag.  Don’t look in the other bags!”

Giggling maniacally, he opens the back door, practically diving into my car.  I know he’s found the kickass new game console and the games I got him when he lets out a funny little squeak.

“Holy shit!” he shrieks joyfully.  “This is awe-
some
!  Thank you, thank you, and thank you again!”

While I’m stretching my legs out, he shoots over to me and tackles me around the waist, rocking me backwards in a fierce embrace.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”  I shrug off his gratitude and look toward the house.  “Are your mom and dad home?”

“Dad went to the store to get stuff for dinner.  Mom’s in her room.”

“’Kay.  I’m gonna go visit with her.”

Talon’s features suddenly arrange themselves into a more mature expression.  “Okay, but you can’t tire her out.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

He dances ahead of me, carefully holding the bag containing his goodies.   Maybe the newest Playstation was a bit much, but I feel bad for the kid.  He’s been having a hard time coping with Aunt Susan being so sick.  I hear he’s been in a mood lately, throwing tantrums and acting like a toddler.  He doesn’t act that way in front of me.  You don’t bite the hand that takes you to Disneyland.

I see the changes as soon as I step inside the house.  Well, nothing’s changed…yet it’s different.  The furniture’s the same and all, but the place is no longer immaculate.  It’s far from being a pigsty, but Aunt Susan always kept the house showroom perfect.  There were always the little special touches:  the vases full of fresh flowers from her garden, and the glass bowls full of pebbles or potpourri—the contents changed seasonally.  The pictures displayed around the house used to be constantly updated.  She loved…she loves doing family portraits.

Now there’s evidence that a boy lives here.  A few of Talon’s toys are scattered in the living room, and there are noticeable smudges on the TV and on the coffee table in front of the couch.  I watch the dust motes sparkling in the shower of light spilling in through the windows.  It feels dusty in here.  Dusty, and closed-up like a funeral parlor.  I hate it.

“Can I set this up now?” Talon asks, holding up the game console box.  “I know how to, you know.  Dalton’s older brother has one, and we play on it all the time.”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug.  “Keep the sound down, alright?”

“Okay!”

He dashes over to the television, and I head over to my aunt’s room which used to be the den.  The archway that leads to the room is covered by a heavy sage green curtain to give her privacy since there’s no door.  A jolt of apprehension zips through me.  I wish I had brought Deadeye Jones with me, for courage.  I have to take several deep breaths before I pull the curtain aside—just enough for me to slip through.

The room is light and airy, thanks to the newly installed ceiling fan.  I remember this room tends to get stuffy in the summer.  The blades of the fan whir, gently stirring the air and blowing the filmy yellow curtain at the big square window.  A boxy television sitting on an oak dresser is turned on to some kind of cooking show, but the volume is turned way down, barely audible over the soft gurgling sound of the oxygen concentrator placed in the corner of the room.  Aunt Susan is asleep on the rented hospital bed, the head of which is inclined all the way up to a sitting position.  It’s easier for her breathe that way.  She has one of those rolling hospital tables to the side of her.  It holds a box of tissues, a plastic tumbler, and a laptop.  There’s a folded up wheelchair in the corner, a nightstand with a squat vase of roses in it, and not much else.  An overstuffed recliner is positioned on one side of the bed, and I notice the pillow and sloppily folded blanket on the arm of it.  That’s where Uncle Charlie’s been sleeping.

I’m careful to step over the coiled tubing connected from the concentrator to the nasal cannula strapped to Aunt Susan’s face.  I finally make myself look at her.  She’s got hair again—a couple inches worth cover her fragile head, and her eyebrows and eyelashes have grown back.  She looks shrunken and boyish, all her curves gone.  Almost like a pale skeletal version of Talon.

I suddenly feel very heavy.  I turn my gaze out the window.  There’s a great view of Aunt Susan’s prize-worthy flower garden.  Like the house, the garden misses her.  Someone has been taking care of it, but not very well.  The colorful mix of flowers have lost their vibrancy, and are brown around the edges.  They seem to droop in depression.  The weeds, on the other hand, are flourishing, taking over the neighborhood, ghetto style.

“It’s a mess, huh?”

I turn back to my aunt.  Her eyes are open, tired but alert.  “Megan and Bran had been coming out to tend it for me, but then Bran broke his leg, and Megan—”

She stops herself abruptly, clearly wondering if I know about her daughter’s pregnant state.  She plays it off with a chuckle, looking out the window.  “And I don’t let Charlie do anything but mow the grass back there.  Remember that one time he accidentally mowed the entire vegetable garden down?”

I force a smile to my stiff face.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better.  Can you push the table closer to me, Andi?  Thanks.”  She reaches for the tissues, moving her cannula so she can blow her nose.  “I had my lungs drained today, and I can breathe so much better now.”

“Again?  Didn’t you just have that done last week?”

She blows her nose again with such single-minded intensity that I know she’s not going to answer me.  I try again.  “Are you still having those side effects from the shots?”

Aunt Susan waves a skinny hand in the air.  “Dr. Evans and I agreed that I should take a break.  I start them again next month.  You know the pneumonia I has just wiped me out.  My body needs a break.”

I can’t yell at my sick aunt.  I can’t yell at my sick aunt.  But I am so frustrated that I have to turn away so she won’t see the anger on my face.  Why the hell isn’t her doctor telling her that they need to be aggressive about this…thing?  She can’t keep taking breaks because cancer sure doesn’t.  And the pneumonia!  I told her that Talon and Uncle Charlie needed to get flu shots, but nobody listened.  And what happened?  Talon brought it home, and of course she caught it—and now she’s weaker than even.  I even talked to Uncle Charlie about—

“What was that, Andi?”

“Uh, nothing.”  Can she hear my thoughts now?  That would be an awesome side effect from the experimental shots she’s supposed to be taking.

The atmosphere is rather tense as I try to think of a tactful way to bully my aunt into continuing her medication.  She finally speaks into the silence.

“Andi, I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re doing this for your cousin,” Aunt Susan begins, her smile warming up her face.  “I know how difficult this must be, given the circumstances…”

I lean against the wall, crossing my arms and trying to look casual.  “No, it’s fine.  It’s been two years after all, and I’m super thrilled for the both of them.  I’ve definitely moved on.”

Her eyes twinkle mischievously.  “Ah, so the rumors I’ve heard are true.  Are you really dating a certain famous someone?”

If Bran were here right now, I‘d punch him in his big mouth.  “Yup,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

Aunt Susan suddenly looks infused with energy.  “I can’t believe you kept it a secret all this time!  How did you two meet?  What is he like?  Oh, my gosh, Andi—Megan would be sooo thrilled if Lucas Greyson came to the wedding!”

I subtly smash the back of my head against the wall, smiling through the pain.  “Yeah, too bad he’s out the country.  Way out.  I think I hear Talon calling me.  I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure.  At dinner tonight.”  Aunt Susan leans her head back against the pillow, still smiling.  “You can tell me all about Lucas Greyson then.”

I’m already heading out, so she can’t see the horrible grimace on my face.  “Can’t wait.”

I walk into the kitchen to get a drink, but I stop short when I see Uncle Charlie in there, putting groceries away.  I’ve never been comfortable around him, and I think about just slowly backing out.  He’s a good guy and a hard worker…but he looks and acts so much like my father that I’ve accidentally called him “Dad” several times since moving in.  Although he’s always especially nice to me, I’ve made a habit out of avoiding him.  Too weird.

Uncle Charlie looks up before I can make my escape.  He gives me a little wave, and continues to put packs of meat in the freezer.  He looks tired and stripped down, and there seems to be more gray strands in his blonde hair than the last time I saw him.

Caught, I step into the kitchen and help him with the groceries.  We make useless small talk.  When everything’s been put away, I go out to the backyard where I pull weeds like a mad woman.  Talon comes out while I’m watering the rose bushes, and it’s obvious by the way he positions himself too close to the spray of water that he wants me to splash him.  I comply, chasing him around the yard with the hose while he shrieks and giggles hysterically.  I almost tell him to hush, but then I notice Aunt Susan watching us from the window with a quiet smile.  I decide to let the kid have his fun.

Ellen’s gray Cape Cod overlooks the ocean.  It has a wooden deck, and dangerously rickety steps leading down to the beach. The inside is pretty awesome, with vaulted beamed ceilings and two stone fireplaces.  It’s not the biggest house, or in the best of shape—but it’s exactly the kind of place I can see myself in some day.  Me, and ten cats.  And I don’t even like cats that much.

Ellen is Grandpa Joe’s second wife whom he was married to for, like, five minutes.  Grandpa met Gina, his third wife, right after the divorce went through (probably before, but whatever), and moved to Florida with her.  Ellen stayed here and remained close to the family, claiming she had always liked us better than him, anyway.  My mother was closest to Ellen out of all Grandpa Joe’s wives—and that includes my father’s mother.  When I first met Ellen, I immediately liked her because she was the roundest person I’d ever met.  I like her white-blonde bob and her bright blue eyes, and the way she always smelled like a bakery.

She hasn’t changed much over the years, and I’ve come to appreciate the fact that she’s very open-minded, and never takes sides in any family drama.  She owns Gilly’s, a modestly successful bar in the touristy part of town, and she’s hardly ever home.  I could throw wild naked parties, and she wouldn’t even care.  Not that I would.  I’ve actually been to a naked party before (long story).  I was the only one fully-clothed—and they tried to make
me
feel self-conscious about that.

Ellen shows me to the spare bedroom, and then shows me a plate of iced brownies.  I take the brownies with caution.  The woman loves to cook and she’s successful about half the time.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?”

Ellen stirs a big pot of something simmering on the stove.  It might be socks.  “Can’t.  I have to cover for Jimmy again tonight.  This is the third day in a row he’s called in.”  She puts a hand on an ample hip and sighs.  “I just may have to fire his ass.  How ‘bout it, Andi?  You want a job as my new bartender?”

“No, thank you,” I say politely.  When she’s not looking, I spit the mouthful of brownies into my napkin.  “I’m already gainfully employed.”

Ellen’s blue eyes twinkle at me.  “Ooh, that’s right.  That fancy job you’re so mysterious about.”

I force a chuckle, and accidentally take another bite of the disastrous brownie.  I wish I had never told Aunt Susan that I did classified contract work for the CIA.  It does come in handy when someone in the family asks me where I’ve been for the past couple of weeks.  All I have to say is, “that’s classified,” and they shut up. I never thought anyone would believe me, but then I’ve been told I have a very dry sense of humor.

Ellen very thoroughly dries her hands on a dish towel.  “Sooo,” she draws out, still looking down. “I’ve been thinking about hiring Bran in the kitchen.  Would that bother you, hon?”

I look up at her uncertainly.  “For the summer, you mean?”

She runs a hand through her stiff curls.  “Ah, I’m assuming they didn’t tell you.  Well, I hate when people leave me in the dark.  Bran and Megan are taking some time away from school.  They’re moving in with Susan and Charlie.”

“Oh,” I say blankly.

Ellen pulls out a chair to sit at the table with me.  “Well, it makes sense.  With the baby coming, and Susan…”

“Right.”

I don’t know how I feel about this, about any of it.  So I put on a smile and pretend that I’m okay with all of it.  “Yeah, that’s great,” I say casually.  “And you should definitely hire Bran.  He’s good in the kitchen.  I don’t know how he’ll manage with that cast, though.”

Ellen looks relieved.  She bought my act.  Damn.  It’s like she doesn’t know me at all.

“He’s pretty good on those crutches,” she says, reaching for one of the brownies.  “I bet he’ll be fine.  And I could really use the extra help.”