Page 96 of Huckleberry Hill
I rolled my eyes. I looked well-fucked, but I wasn’t going to say that to my grandmother. There were some things you just didn’t say.
“Remember the night of the bonfire, you caught us trying to climb the tree outside my window to get into the house?”
“I remember.” She grinned at me. “Peppermint schnapps on your breath.”
I laughed. “You said if we were going to get caught drinking, then we at least needed to drink something we wouldn’t be embarrassed about in our later years when retelling the story. And the next night you made us drink straight bourbon. Does Dad know that story?”
“Doubt it. He was out of town when that happened. And I certainly never told him.”
“Neither did I. And I know Salem wouldn’t have squealed.” My smile dimmed.
“Have you told her yet?”
“About what?”
She gestured with her chin in the direction of the cabin.
“It was her idea,” I said with a rueful shake of my head. “Wyn, Poet and Salem all voted and told me I had to go for it.”
“Voted? You’re making life decisions based on a committee?”
“Just this life decision,” I said with a grin.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm. What’s that mean?”
“It means hmm.”
“You never keep your opinions to yourself. Why are you now?”
“I’m not keeping my opinions to myself. I’m mulling over what you told me. I guess I didn’t realize . . .”
“What?”
“They’re your tribe,” she said. “Your village. And it must be really hard being separated from them.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, nodding. “It is.”
I felt like I was on a raft in the ocean and a storm was throwing me about. Wave after wave crashed over me, and every time I managed to poke my head above water, another would engulf me once again.
My friends, my sister—they were the lighthouse on land.
Would all that change if I didn’t go back to New York?
Muddy scooped the poached eggs from the water and gently set them on the plate, along with several pieces of bacon.
“Eat,” she commanded.
I took the plate to the kitchen table and sat down. “It’s funny, you know? Salem and I moving into a strange apartment. Nothing but each other, a suitcase each, and a lot of gumption. I’d never have guessed Poet and Wyn would become our best friends.”
“You should invite them out for a visit,” Muddy said.
“I invited Wyn,” I admitted. “The family she nannies for went to Paris and took the French-speaking nanny. She has a week off.”
“Is she coming?”
“I don’t know. I kind of threw out the invitation willy-nilly.”
