Make Me Burn

by Marie Harte

  She swallowed her desire to write about poppies and lavender, alien rocks, and the best cupcake recipes in the city. “That’s true. Funding is always an issue, isn’t it?”

  He grinned at her, and his approval made her feel ten feet tall. “You’re so smart. I just know you can push through this phase and get back on track, find your niche.”

  I have found it. “On another note, Gerty said to say hello.”

  “What’s she up to lately?”

  “She’s been killing ogres and barbarians and making grown men cry.”

  Her parents laughed at that.

  Her mother said, “You tell Gerty she’s due for another Dearborn get-together.”

  “So, this Sunday then?” When they typically met for family togetherness. Tonight had been a one-off invitation for Chinese food. God bless her mom for not giving up. As if throwing her family together like last week’s leftovers might salvage them into something palatable.

  June shook her head. “Not this weekend. We’re going over to Bainbridge Island.”

  Len stood with his plate and took it to the sink then stopped by June to give her a kiss. “I can’t next weekend either. I’ll be in New York.” He watched Avery, looking for something she never seemed able to give him. “I told Erik I’d help him with something he’s working on.”

  “For the Times?” her mother asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll only be a few days.”

  Avery swallowed the ball of disappointment, its weight heavy and sour in her stomach. Her ex-boyfriend, Erik, the son her father had always wanted, continued to call on his mentor. Len, eager to remain in the investigative game, was all too happy to help. He had a warm spot for Erik in particular, not that Avery could blame him. Her parting from Erik had been amicable, and she still considered him a friend. She just wished he wasn’t always there to remind her father of her life that could have been.

  Used to his comings and goings, her mother waved away his upcoming trip. “Well, then, we’ll make it after that. Now, Avery, I want to hear all about your work.” June tugged her by the crook of her elbow into the back sunroom. Salty, their dog, followed and sat next to Avery on the couch, her dark eyes full of compassion. And ever hopeful of a doggie treat.

  Lost petting Salty, the cute Rottweiler just adorable with her head in Avery’s lap, Avery wasn’t prepared for her mother to join her on the couch with a commiserating hug, or for the tears that came with it. She sniffed, and her mom sighed and pulled back.

  “Oh, Avery. Your father loves you, you know. He’s stubborn and unable to see that what you’re doing is just as important as what he does.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  June smiled. “Of course. But we both know the truth of the matter.”

  “What?”

  “You and your father are too alike, and you try to out-stubborn each other. You butt heads even when you’re getting along. It’s weird, but it’s your dynamic.”

  “How can you say that?” Avery gave a harsh laugh. “He’s successful. I’m not.”

  “You are too.”

  Avery hated that she needed someone to tell her that. Shouldn’t she believe it of herself without outside validation? Money didn’t equal success, she knew. She loved what she did, but she’d never be rich doing it. Having a job in her chosen field, which paid crap wages, would always be a risk. Something her artistic mother well knew.

  “Mom, I’m more like you than him.”

  “Really? Because I’m content with my life, not always trying to go for bigger and better.” June paused. “Or to talk a big game to please someone else.”

  “I’m not… I don’t do that.”

  “Oh? Then why don’t you tell your father that you’re happy? Why are you always agreeing with his tips to get that next big interview? Honey, if you don’t want the career your father had, just tell him.”

  “I quit my job. That should have told him.”

  “You said you didn’t like the atmosphere there, not that you hated your job.”

  Because looking in her father’s eyes and dashing his dreams had been an impossibility back then. And now. “Well, maybe I should want those things.”

  Her mother raised a brow. “I remember you years ago, twenty-three and on your way to an ulcer. Pushing people around to get at the truth isn’t you, sweetie.”

  Brad Battle’s face grew crystal clear in her mind’s eye.

  “Avery, if you’re happy, your father will be happy for you.”

  “Now who’s delusional?” she muttered.

  Her mother popped her on the back of the head.

  “Ow.”

  “This is my point. You’re just like him. Sarcastic to the end. Always trying to prove yourself when you don’t have to.”

  “Ugh. Now you’re hitting me where it really hurts.”

  June smiled, a woman truly happy with her status in life. Avery had inherited her mother’s need to create and to laugh. Whereas June Dearborn put her artistic efforts to paint and canvas, Avery used words to express herself. As a young girl, she’d written stories on note cards, making worlds where life felt light and happy. Her father had traveled the globe, doing important deeds, as he’d called them. He’d been larger than life and always with a smile for his little girl.

  When Avery had started carrying around a tiny notepad and pencil, becoming a junior reporter to emulate her father, he’d been pleased, encouraging. And when she’d shown real aptitude for reporting the news in high school and then college, he’d been ecstatic.

  But as she’d matured, she’d developed an aversion to prying, to lifting back the curtain on so much ugliness. Granted, news wasn’t always bad. But so much of it turned her stomach. She liked butterflies, puppies, and fluff pieces. She’d loved covering the college Valentine’s Day specials much more than she’d liked reporting on the assistant dean’s scandalous affair with a few undergrads and his mishandling of personnel.

  Her mother had a point, but every time Avery thought about coming clean with her dad and telling him, point-blank, that she had no intention of changing, she wondered if he’d just quit trying with her and lose interest forever. Unnerved at the thought, she wondered if perhaps he really did have the right of it. She’d made a hash of her career years ago, trying to find herself, and had changed track. Unfortunately, on the cusp of thirty, she still hadn’t quite discovered who she should be.

  “Okay, enough work talk.” Her mother patted Salty, who groaned in pleasure. “Are you still dating that Jim guy, or are you two on a permanent break?”

  “Jim?” Avery had to think hard. “Oh, Jim. No, we broke up a while ago.”

  “Why? I thought you liked him.”

  Bad sex and a need to talk about himself in the third person had not done Jim any favors. “He was nice but kind of boring.”

  “According to you, they’re all boring.”

  Avery shrugged. “Dating isn’t easy. Hmm. Maybe I should do a series of articles on that. We did one last year, but it wouldn’t hurt for more advice on love.”

  “Love is never easy. Everyone thinks dating in my day was as simple as snapping your fingers to snag a man. Ha. I went on a lot of bad dates to find your father. And despite what you might think, he’s a keeper.” Her mom wiggled her eyebrows.

  Avery didn’t want to think about what those wiggling brows might be saying. “Great to hear. In my day, which is now, everyone’s meeting up online. I’ve been striking out.” Heck, she’d met Jim half a year ago, and after a month of texting back and forth, their schedules had lined up for a few dates. She’d gone out with him for two months before finally throwing in the towel. “Besides, I’m busy with work. My social life—”

  “What social life?” June sighed. “If you’re not at work, you’re here hanging with your old lady mom.”

  “You’re not old.”

&nbs
p; June snorted. “Or you’re stuck at home. Avery, you’re worse than Gerty. I love that goofy girl, but she’s so wrapped up in her cyber world I’m amazed she was out under the sun this past weekend.”

  “She’s got an animal charity she works with,” Avery said, defensive. “She likes computer games, and she dates.” Although cybersex with the forty-five-year-old landlord might not be considered a real outing.

  “Gerty has a passion.” June nodded. “You need that.”

  “Passion? I like guys well enough.”

  “No, no. Not physical passion.” How cute. Her mom blushed. “I meant something outside of work that means something to you. A hobby, a passion for art, language, films, flowers. What do you like to do for fun, Avery?”

  * * *

  An hour later, Avery lay on her living room floor, staring up at the ceiling, while Gerty drank hot chocolate and looked down on her from the couch.

  “Gerty, I have no life.”

  “Could have told you that.”

  “Shut up. I’m serious. When my mom asked what I like to do for fun—not work-related—I came up blank.”

  Gerty sipped and sighed. “I love chocolate. So much.” She wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand and burped. “Better. So, let’s see. She asked you a question and put you on the spot. Come on, Avery. You have a life.”

  “No. I have work. I have you, my best friend.”

  “And me,” Alan chimed in as he joined them in the living room. He’d just made a plate of s’mores in the microwave and handed one to Gerty. His penance for throwing Avery under the bus with that dog video. And yes, she was still making him pay. Though she loved Emil being happy with her, the added work was stressing her the hell out.

  “First of all, Gerty, you’re my roommate and best friend. You don’t count.”

  Gerty scowled. “What? I count.”

  “Second, Alan, you’re my work buddy. You don’t count either.”

  “Fine by me.” He shoved a whole wedge of graham cracker, marshmallow, and melted chocolate in his mouth. “I have so much life I’m full of it,” she thought he said around the gooey treat.

  “Full of it is right.” Gerty shot him the finger, to which Alan said something unintelligible.

  “Seriously.” Avery glared at her friends before letting out a sad breath.

  “Oh God. It’s the Avery hour.” Alan groaned.

  “All drama, all the time.” Gerty wiped an imaginary tear. “Pity me because I am.”

  “Suck it, you two.” Yet Avery couldn’t help grinning. “Okay, just hear me out. I know I’m being all whiny. I’m due. I had dinner with Dad tonight.”

  “Oh, well, go ahead.” Alan nodded. “I like your dad, but he’s like Babe Ruth and you’re his kid who decided to follow him into baseball. Just…why? You have masochistic tendencies.”

  “I know. And can I ask why you always use baseball as a reference to life?”

  Alan shrugged. “You get points for hitting things. There’s a bat and balls—”

  “Totally phallic.” Gerty nodded.

  “And guys who are always adjusting themselves. It’s like if you don’t touch your dick at some point in the game, the umpire will bounce you. It’s a guy metaphor for life.”

  “You lost me there.” Avery sat up and reached for a s’more. “But as to why writing? I can’t help it. I like writing. It’s fun and creative. And it’s me. I’m not into art like Mom. I could give or take video games.”

  Gerty put a hand over her heart and cringed in mock horror. “Take it back, foul heathen.”

  “And let’s face it. Photography is for those who wish they could write but can’t,” she added, gratified by Alan’s scowl. “Kidding. But seriously, when Mom asked me what I like to do for fun, I came up with nothing. I mean, I’m not even into dating or sex anymore. And isn’t that depressing.”

  “Early menopause?” Alan asked.

  Both Avery and Gerty just looked at him.

  “What? It’s a thing.”

  Avery turned back to Gerty. “I have no passion. Not for art or sex or life, apparently.” She groaned. “What do I like to do outside of work? That’s such a simple question. So why is that so hard to answer?”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Alan said. “Because you’re overthinking it.”

  “This from the man who thinks dick pics are an icebreaker?” Gerty snorted.

  “Hey, that was one time and an accident. I thought I was sending that to my girlfriend, Gillian. I got the G’s mixed up.” Alan looked as if he meant to say something, paused, then added, “But it was good, right? I looked huge from that angle.”

  “Huge,” Gerty agreed.

  “Anyway,” Alan continued to Avery, “my point is you’re a little neurotic when it comes to your dad and your career. Right now, you have nothing but work, so of course you’re thinking you’re some big loser with no life.”

  “I’m pretty sure I never said that.” Why did I invite him over again?

  “But you’re hot and smart. Guys would love to get with you if you’d give them the chance. And no, Gerty,” he said to stave off Gerty’s pending interruption. “I don’t mean me. Avery and I decided a long time ago that sexing coworkers don’t work.”

  “I know that. Glad you remembered it,” Gerty said.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’d do her in a heartbeat, but I’m pretty sure she’d fall for me, and that would ruin my playboy image.”

  “Oh, thanks so much, Alan.” Avery fluttered her eyelashes. “Great to know I’m good for a pity shag.”

  “You’re not British, Avery. It’s pity fuck.” Gerty shook her head. “It’s okay to say the f-word.”

  “Fuck. See? I said it.” Alan smiled and continued, “And on top of all this anxiety you’re suddenly feeling, let’s not forget you have that video spot tomorrow with Super Hunk FD.”

  Avery turned to Gerty and glared. “You’ve got him calling Brad that now?”

  “Hey, not my fault he has big ears.” Gerty and Alan air high-fived. “But I’m more astonished that Alan actually sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Thank you.” Alan nodded, taking a head bow. “I’m all about therapy. I’m actually dating a psychology professor at the moment.”

  “Oh boy.” Avery groaned. “Great. Now you’re going to be psychoanalyzing me all day every day.”

  Alan talked over her. “You’re stressed about tomorrow. Considering this is the dude who was your first big story—and now your second big story—and he sees you working for the Needle, you’re right to be a little freaked out.”

  “Searching the Needle Weekly is a great place to work.” She glared at him. “Why are you acting like I should be embarrassed about writing for them? Like it’s a step down or something?”

  He just looked at her. “You write that alien baby piece yet?”

  “Well, no…” She flushed, understanding but still annoyed. “Wait. How do you know Brad was my first big story?”

  Gerty raised a hand. “I filled him in. What? He promised s’mores for the scoop.”

  “Traitor.”

  “You bet. I’m low on my chocolate stash.” Gerty took another s’more. “But he’s right. You’re due to be a basket case over Super Hunk.”

  “I am?” Avery opened herself to listen, trying to come to grips with a mini early-life crisis.

  “You are.” They nodded, and Gerty added, “Your dad always makes you feel like you made a bad choice by not following in his footsteps. And the guy who pretty much made that blow up in your face is now back in your life. Plus, he’s really good-looking. So even if you hate him, you can be attracted to him.”

  “I can?”

  “You so are,” Alan said around his s’more.

  Avery bit into hers, losing herself in the mushy confection. After a few mom
ents and a sugar rush, she asked, “I mean, I don’t like the guy. But come on, you can’t be attracted to men and not be attracted to him. Plus, he’s all charming when he plays the heroic fireman.” She’d always had a thing for a man in uniform, and Brad in his firefighter clothes unfortunately triggered a major attraction.

  “Right.” Gerty licked her fingers clean. “But to say you have no life isn’t fair. You have to work extra hard lately because Emil has loaded so much work on you in addition to the stress of the Pets Fur Life thing. Cut yourself some slack. When this dies down, I’m sure you’ll cook something up.”

  “Aha! I like cooking! I like it a lot.”

  Alan smiled. “See? There’s your passion. Though I think you should return to the idea of sex.”

  Gerty rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

  “Dating is not a four-letter word, Gerty.”

  “Obviously.”

  “You know what I mean, smartass. We all know why Jim didn’t last. He sucked in bed. Kiss of death for a guy.”

  Gerty gaped at Alan. “How do you know?”

  Alan chuckled. “My last girlfriend, the one before the shrink, dated him and said he was terrible. Not into foreplay, as I recall.”

  Avery blushed. “You never mentioned that.”

  “I would have. But I thought it might make you uncomfortable that I knew the sexual history of your minuteman. Plus, he had that weird way of talking. ‘Jim thinks Avery is fine. Jim loves tacos.’ It took me a while before I realized he was talking about himself. It was like that Seinfeld episode.”

  “Everything can be equated to a Seinfeld episode,” Gerty said and again air high-fived him. This time Avery joined in because she too was a fan of the old sitcom.

  “I know he was a bit off,” she admitted. “I just held on because I wanted to date someone for more than a week. Heck, I was turning into a girl-Alan before I went off guys.” She pointed a finger at him. “Next time I date someone you know, tell me if he has a reputation. I can work with bad in bed if I know upfront, but he was also superficial and all about himself, which took a few dates to learn.”

  “Meh. At least you had a date for a while.” Gerty sighed. “I’m in a dry spell. And no, Alan, I do not want your help.”