I do not want to talk about how maybe if I fucked Oz – the man who was once Oscar - in the filthiest way possible I could get rid of it all. Maybe all it would take is ten minutes of animal humping to silence five years worth of grief for what we had, for what we lost. It must have killed some part of him too. I saw it in his face the night he walked away. Once I proved myself to be a coward I was nothing to him.
“Ren?”
A hesitant knock on the door, a soft voice. Ava.
“Ren?”
“Ren’s not here,” I mumble and pull the pillow over my face. I don’t know what time it is. The sun is fairly high and the room grows hotter every minute. I’m sure I could find something more useful to do than lie in a bed of self-pity.
But I’ve made my own bed. Now I should be forced to lie in it.
I cackle to myself over the metaphorical non-humor of the situation. I think I’m losing my marbles, one marble at a time. By this time next month they will have all leaked out.
“Can I come in?”
I fling the covers off and unlock the door. Ava cracks it open slowly and pokes her head inside. She looks around with worried confusion, like she’s crossed an unfriendly international border. She needs to do something about her roots. I can see the red peeking through.
“Hi,” I wave.
“Hey.”
She smiles. Ava has the most amazing smile. When Ava smiles you feel like the sun has just shined directly on you.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly ten.”
“Shit. I forgot I told Spencer I’d help him with some chores. On second thought though, I’d probably just get in his way.”
Ava chews her lip. “I saw Oz heading out with Spence pretty early.”
“Oh. Oz.” Defeat. Anger. Lust.
“Anyway,” Ava continues as if an elephant hasn’t just entered the room and stands there, swaying his bulbous trunk and blinking at us. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind watching Alden for a few hours. Bree asked if I would go with her to the Western Edge Stables. Apparently she’s signed us up for a roping class.”
“A groping class?”
“Shush, you heard me. The photo crew was here early in this morning. Even if Monty wasn’t doing that ridiculous photo shoot today I couldn’t ask him and I’d rather not drag the baby out when there’s nothing for him to do there.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Jesus, a girl can’t even sleep in for a few hours without all kinds of crazy news erupting. “Ava, you know I’ll gladly look after Alden anytime so don’t even worry about it. Now who is here? And Monty is doing what exactly?”
“I told you yesterday. Photographer from one of those celebrity rags is in town and got Monty to agree to some barely clothed on-location photo ops. They headed for the mountain trail a few hours ago. She wanted Spence too but of course he told her to fuck off.”
“And Monty didn’t? Monty tells everyone to fuck off.”
“They must have caught him in an unusually good mood. Plus I saw him checking out the photographer’s ass so he’s probably expecting a tip.”
“Naturally.”
Since the girls need to leave in a half hour I hustle through a shower and don’t bother about drying my hair. In this climate it dries quickly on its own anyway.
When I get to the kitchen, Ava is kneeling on the floor beside her son and Bree pretends like I haven’t just entered the room. She’s wearing a short swing dress with cowboy boots. If I had to guess I would say dresses probably aren’t well suited to cattle roping lessons but since no one asked me I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Brigitte declares and shoots me a wounded look before flouncing out of the house.
I do feel slightly guilty because I don’t know for sure if she was the one who aired all the dirty Oscar laundry at the feet of Vogel Productions but it doesn’t matter anyway. Really, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine. I should never have expected the private past to remain private. That’s what you get when you open the door and let in the cameras.
“You and Auntie Ren are gonna have so much fun,” Ava promises her boy with a smile and a kiss.
Alden looks at me with dubious blue eyes. I’ve never been the type to get all mushy about kids but this gorgeous little boy, my nephew, owns a piece of my heart without even trying. I hate that he’s in the middle of all this garbage. Ava does the best she can, but I should make more of an effort to help her.
I grab a cup of coffee and sit down on the floor beside my sister’s child. “You like chickens, Alden?”
Slowly, thoughtfully, the little boy nods his head.
“Well how about you help your tired old aunt feed all those chickens and clean out the coop?”
I know Spence probably already took care of that before the sun came up but I figure if it amuses the kid it wouldn’t hurt to do it all again. Alden gives me a gap-toothed grin and Ava plants one more kiss on his little head before mouthing the words ‘thank you’ and heading out the door.
Alden is wary for few minutes after his mother’s departure but then returns to his hyperactive little self. I’m laughing as I get his shoes tied and let him out into the yard. I forget to notice whether there’s a camera following us but when I glance around I see Rash filming away at a discreet distance. I suppose I am becoming immune to being watched after all.
The day the chickens showed up, Spencer built a solid enclosure so they wouldn’t become a coyote meal. It’s positioned to take advantage of the shade provided by a sprawling mesquite tree that’s probably been there for a hundred years. The enclosure is probably five times the size it needs to be for four lousy chickens. Maybe Spencer has plans to expand the flock after all.
After I hand over the bowl of feed to Alden, I sit down on a wide tree stump and laugh as my nephew throws the bowl’s contents straight up into the air. It turns out little kids are good medicine. I haven’t laughed as much in weeks as I have in the last twenty minutes. The chickens are going berserk, pecking at the food as fast as their skinny necks will let them.
I feel the shadow at my back before I hear his voice.
“You babysitting the kid or the poultry?”
That’s how he always starts a conversation these days; some off-the-cuff remark that kicks my blood pressure into high gear. No matter what he says it sounds thickly sensual. Since our barn encounter I’ve managed to keep interactions to a minimum.
I don’t fool myself though. I know I can only avoid him as long as he lets me. And sometimes I’m not even sure I want him to.
I don’t turn around when I answer. “I’d heard you were gone for the day.”
Oz opens the gate and strolls inside the chicken enclosure. He stands closer to me than he needs to but I don’t even flinch.
“So is that why you decided to emerge from the cave? Because you thought I was gone?”
“No. I don’t care where you are.”
“I’m sorry I bother you so much, Ren.” He sounds the opposite of sorry.
“You are not.”
“I am. I always tell the truth.”
“So do I.”
“Do you now?” he says quietly, almost bemusedly. “That’s interesting.”
“I don’t want you. I don’t want you. I DON’T WANT YOU!”
I wonder if he’s thinking of those words, if he can hear them plainly as if they are being hurled in live time. I know I can hear them. Their echoes are etched into this landscape. They are permanent.
“This is a stupid conversation.” I have to tilt my head to see him. Somehow I manage to get hit in the eyes with the sharpest rays of the climbing sun. It hurts.
Oz shifts slightly. He’s not standing as close to me anymore, but I can see more of him now. I wish I couldn’t. He’s filled out a lot in five years, all in exactly the places a woman would want a man to fill out. He crosses his tanned arms and whistles a few notes.