“I’m gonna open it, give you your money,” Matt says, walking toward the pair.
Matt stops and looks down at the hole between his feet. He holds out the box. Tyler and Colton move closer. Tyler reaches for the box, but Matt slams the heavy box on the ground, and sprints for the woods. He watches from a safe distance as pissed-off yellow jackets pour out of the ground nest, looking for the invader. Tyler and Colton look at each other in confusion, with their hands held out. Tyler bends over to grab the box, and three yellow jackets sting him repeatedly on his hand and arm. Colton is stung repeatedly on the exposed area of his calves below his baggy jean shorts.
After the initial stings, the yellow jackets have formally marked their targets, and hundreds of wasps attack. Tyler drops the box, and he and Colton sprint toward the Jeep, flailing their arms, smacking themselves, trying to stop the onslaught of venom. They jump in the open Jeep, but the wasps still attack. Tyler fumbles with his keys.
“Go, hurry up!” Colton says, still smacking himself.
Tyler starts the Jeep and guns the vehicle into the street. An SUV swerves to avoid them, the driver leaning on the horn in the process. Matt stands in the woods, watching the chaos. Emily walks over. She kisses him on the lips. Matt furrows his brow and steps back.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Do you know if Tyler or Colton are allergic to bees?’
Emily shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Matt bends over, with his hands on his knees. “I hope not, because if one of them is, I might have killed someone.” Matt shakes his head, his eyes glassy. “I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve just given him the money.”
Emily puts her hand on his back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were defending yourself.”
Matt stands up. “Do you have your cell?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you call him? We have to make sure they don’t have any allergic symptoms.”
Emily frowns. “It’s in my bag.”
They jog back to the stand. She grabs her cell from her bag.
“Do you wanna talk?” she asks.
“It would probably go over better coming from you. I’ll tell you what to say.”
Emily nods and dials her brother. She waits as the phone rings.
“What the fuck do you want?” Tyler says loud enough that Matt can hear.
“Ask him if he or Colton have any hives or swelling in areas where they were not stung,” Matt says.
Emily asks.
“What the fuck do you care? Tell that little bitch, I’m gonna kick his—”
“Because you could die, dumbass!” Emily says, cutting him off. After a pause Emily looks at Matt. “He says no.”
“Ask him if either of them have swelling of the face or throat or tongue.”
Emily asks. “He says no.”
“What about trouble breathing or dizziness?”
Emily asks. “He says no.”
“How about stomach cramps, nausea, or diarrhea?”
Emily asks, listens, then replies. “I don’t care what you say to Mom. You act like you’re so tough, and then you get a few bee stings, and you go crying to Mommy. Fuck off, Tyler.” She closes her phone with a grin. “He said, if he shits himself, he’s gonna kill you.”
Matt laughs. “I shouldn’t be laughing. He might actually kill me.”
“He won’t. He’s such a bully. He doesn’t pick on people who fight back. We will have to deal with my parents though.”
+++
Matt puts on his newest and cleanest pair of canvas pants. He tucks in Uncle’s oversized button-down shirt. He runs his hand through his sun-bleached light-brown hair. He looks at his face in the small mirror attached to his wall-mounted bookshelf. His tan skin is even, healthy, and smooth, minimizing his pointy nose. He steps from his bedroom and strides to the kitchen.
Uncle sits at the kitchen table with his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He sets down his book on the table, next to a wine bottle, and smiles wide.
“You look like quite the gentleman.”
“Thanks.”
“That shirt doesn’t look half bad on you.” He stands with a groan and hands the wine bottle to Matt. “This is for Emily’s parents. It’s elderberry wine. It’s the last of the stuff I made a few years ago. You should always show up for dinner with a gift for the host.”
Matt hikes through the wooded trail to Kingstown, holding his unlabeled wine bottle. The sun is waning, but it’s still humid from the warm September day. He’s thankful for the tree canopy, keeping him cool.
The trail ends at a concrete sidewalk and an empty basketball court. He walks through the court to the community of sameness. The luxury homes sit on tiny plots barely adequate for their girth. Like makeup hiding the ugliness beneath, every home’s face is covered in faux brick or faux stone, with vinyl siding on the sides and back. In front of each are lawns that comply with their rules for sameness. Each is deep green, chemically treated, clipped and edged to perfection, and eradicated of anything, but Kentucky bluegrass. Matt strides past two SUVs in the driveway—one shiny, the other dirty. He follows the front walkway to the door. He runs his free hand through his hair and straightens his shirt. He takes a deep breath and presses the doorbell. The door swings open.
“I said, ‘I got it,’” Emily says to someone behind her. She looks around and steps outside, shutting the door. She smiles and gives Matt a quick kiss on the lips. “You ready for this?”
Matt shakes his head. “Probably not.” He stares at her. “You look really pretty.”
Emily frowns and wipes her blond hair from her eyes. “It’s like I still have baby hair. It refuses to do anything but lay straight.”
“I like it.”
She smiles. “Remember what we talked about. My parents ask a lot of questions. When in doubt, don’t say anything.”
“Got it.”
She opens the door and motions for him to come inside. “Are you hungry?”
Matt nods and steps inside. “There was a lot to do today, so much to preserve.”
Emily starts toward the kitchen. Matt stands still in the foyer, looking up at the churchlike ceiling. He gazes at the mural of a vineyard on the wall.
Emily stops and looks back. “You coming?”
Matt breaks from his trance and follows Emily to the kitchen, trying to avoid staring at the curve of her hips moving under her knee-length cotton dress. The kitchen is open and airy, with a center island of granite, and glistening pots and pans hanging overhead. Stainless steel appliances and oak cabinetry line the back wall. An electric guitar solo strums in the background. Dr. Hansen stands behind the center island with a glass of red wine in her hand. Her blond hair is held on top of her head, with wisps framing her face. Her makeup is thick and flawless. She’s much taller than Matt remembers. She smiles wide at Matt, but her eyes remain vapid. She steps gracefully around the center island with six-inch heels and a little black dress. Her limbs are bony, devoid of shape.
“Hello, Matt,” she says, with her veiny hand held out. Matt smiles and shakes her delicate hand. “It’s been a long time.”
Emily frowns.
“Two years to be exact. Thank you for inviting me to your home. This is for you,” Matt says, handing Dr. Hansen the bottle of wine. “It’s elderberry wine that my uncle made.”
Dr. Hansen frowns at the bottle and sets it on the center island. “Thank you.”
The back door opens, and Mr. Hansen and the smell of steak enter the kitchen. His brown ponytail is pulled tight, and his button-down shirt is untucked. He grins at Matt and sets the plate of steaks on the center island.
“You’ve really grown since I last saw you,” he says and holds out his hand. Matt shakes it. “I hope you like steak.”
“I’ll eat just about anything,” Matt says.
“When you’re a young boy, you can do that,” Dr. Hansen says and glances at Emily. “Us ladies have to really watch what we eat. Don’
t we, Emily?”
Emily glares at her mother.
Mr. Hansen looks at Matt. “You like The Grateful Dead?”
Matt shrugs.
“The guitar solo on the stereo, that’s The Dead. Good stuff, huh?”
Matt shrugs. “We don’t have a stereo.”
Mr. Hansen’s eyes widen. “What do you do for music?”
“My uncle plays a harmonica, and Emily brings her radio to the stand sometimes, but mostly I just listen to the birds.”
“I couldn’t live without music,” he says. “I’d take the Dead over anything.”
“Not if you were starving.”
Mr. Hansen laughs. “I suppose not, but that was just a saying, I wasn’t being literal. Do you understand what literal means?”
Matt nods.
“You probably miss out on things like that, being homeschooled, huh?”
Matt bites the inside of his cheek. “Things like what?”
“Oh, you know, social things that make people fit in, little intricacies.”
“He’s not missing out on anything,” Emily says with her hands on her hips.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Mr. Hansen says to Emily. “I’m just trying to help. I know it must be hard to fit in, when you aren’t around other kids your age.”
“It’s okay,” Matt says. “I understand. Apart from Emily, kids my age are very confusing.”
“I really wish Emily would have told us you two were friends much sooner.” Dr. Hansen says.
“Do you meet all her friends?” Matt asks.
“Absolutely, we are very good friends with Sophia’s family.”
Emily rolls her eyes.
“Why don’t we all fill our plates and make our way to the dining room,” Mr. Hansen says.
They each put a steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus on their plates. Mr. Hansen grabs a beer bottle from the refrigerator.
“I put water out for everyone,” Mr. Hansen says. “Does anybody want anything else to drink? Matt, you want a beer?”
Dr. Hansen shakes her head. “Chip, not funny.”
“Water is fine for me,” Matt says.
“I found this new microbrewery that’s very good,” Mr. Hansen says, holding up his beer.
They take their plates to the dimly lit dining room. Matt and Emily sit on one side, her parents on the other.
“Where’s Tyler?” Emily asks.
“He’s out with Colton,” Mr. Hansen says.
“Are you gonna make him give Matt’s money back?”
Matt shifts in his seat but keeps focused on his food.
“I don’t think this is polite dinner conversation, young lady,” Dr. Hansen says.
Emily narrows her eyes. “I knew it. You let him get away with everything.”
“You’re not innocent in this. You lied to us for two years, and Tyler and Colton could have been seriously injured the other day.”
Matt looks up. “That was my fault. I’m sorry about the yellow jackets.”
“I can appreciate that you’re sorry,” Dr. Hansen says, “but that doesn’t undo what you did. You do realize that people die from bee stings, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do know that,” Matt says.
“What if one of those boys were allergic or what if they got into an accident trying to get away from the bees?”
“They’re wasps.”
“What?”
“Yellow jackets are wasps, not bees.”
“Does that really matter?”
Matt looks down. “I guess not.”
“You keep bees, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you were very well aware of what would happen if you disturbed that nest, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was. It was wrong. I wish I could take it back.”
Emily stands up. “They were gonna beat him up and take his money!”
“Sit down,” Dr. Hansen says.
Emily crosses her arms.
“We haven’t yet decided whether or not we’re going to let you see Matt anymore, so you better sit down, or my decision will be easy.”
Emily bites her lip and sinks into her seat.
“I won’t do anything like that ever again,” Matt says. “It was my fault.”
“Maybe we should talk about this after we eat,” Mr. Hansen says, before taking a bite of steak.
“It’s not fair,” Emily says. “Matt is way nicer than Sophia or Megan or anybody at school. And, by the way, those girls are total bitches. They’re not my friends. They’ve been mean to me since elementary school.”
“Sophia and Megan didn’t almost get your brother and Colton killed,” Dr. Hansen says.
“You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?” Emily says. “You’re just acting like you’ll give him a chance.”
“You’ve never lied to us before, and you’ve never been so angry at your brother before you started spending time with Matt.”
Emily grits her teeth and clenches her jaw. “You can’t stop me from seeing him.”
“We’re your parents. We can do whatever is best for you. You may not see that now, but we have the experience that you don’t.”
“Your mother’s right,” Mr. Hansen says.
“She’s right, Emily,” Matt says. “She can force you not to see me, but I don’t think force is a good option for creating loving relationships. Parents choose force out of convenience or because that’s what their parents did. It’s easier to force someone than to look at your own hypocrisy.”
Dr. Hansen drops her fork on her plate with a clang. She glares at Matt. “Excuse me, young man? Do you have any idea how unbelievably rude it is to call an adult a hypocrite? Especially when it is completely erroneous.”
“I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just that children live in involuntary relationships that are kind of like slavery, in that kids have to obey their parents. They can’t simply trade them in for new parents, if they don’t like how their parents are treating them.”
Emily reaches over and squeezes his hand under the table. She turns and mouths Stop.
Matt smiles at Emily. “It’s fine. I’m just explaining that I think, when you have involuntary relationships, it’s easier to act badly, because you know the other person isn’t going anywhere, no matter how badly you act.”
“Who’s teaching you this nonsense?” Dr. Hansen says.
Matt shrugs. “It’s common sense, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Imagine if, instead of choosing to marry Mr. Hansen you were forced to marry someone else against your will, and the guy knew that you could never leave. Do you think he’d try really hard to please you, to be a good husband?”
“This is a ridiculous argument.”
“This is how it is for kids. We’re slaves to our parents. Hopefully our parents are nice, benevolent plantation owners who allow us to grow up to be free independent people. But for a lot of kids, that’s not the case.”
Dr. Hansen smirks. “I’ve worked with thousands and thousands of children. I can tell you that the vast majority of their parents would do anything for them, myself included.” She looks at Emily and back to Matt. “This is where you really need experience and proper education. I don’t know how you could possibly understand the parent-child dynamic when you’ve never been married, had children, or even had much socialization. You should really be careful about espousing these ideas you obviously know nothing about.”
Matt nods. “It just seems to me that a lot of kids in the neighborhood enjoy sadistic, dysfunctional behavior. I can’t imagine that their parents don’t have any blame for that.”
“Kids make mistakes,” Mr. Hansen says. “You yourself admitted to a very big one tonight.”
“I am sorry for that,” Matt says.
“Our concern,” Dr. Hansen says, looking at Chip and back to Matt, “is that you and Emily lied and concealed your relationship to begin with, and your inadequate socialization makes y
ou a magnet for dangerous behavior. Now our daughter is in danger because of it. Mr. Hansen and I have a duty to protect our children at all costs.”
“I’ll do my best to never put her in any danger ever again,” Matt says.
“I’m sorry, Matt, but that’s not a risk we can take.”
Emily clenches her fists, her eyes glassy. “I knew you were gonna say no.”
“That’s not true,” Dr. Hansen says. “Matt has shown to me that he has no interest in changing.”
“I’m not sure how you want me to change,” Matt says.
“Have you ever even been to church or a formal school?”
Matt looks down. “No.”
“Church would be a good start. We can let you see Emily at church and then see if you get better.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by get better. I wasn’t aware that there’s something wrong with me.”
Emily turns to Matt. “There’s nothing wrong with you, nothing at all.”
“If there is one thing my twenty years as an educator has taught me is that, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Before you, I had a perfect daughter. Now she’s lying, she’s mouthy, she’s disrespectful. I had to give her detention at school for heaven’s sake. Do you know how incredibly embarrassing that is for me?”
Emily slams her fists on the table. “This is bullshit, Mom!”
Dr. Hansen frowns and shakes her head. “This proves my point exactly. Just remember, Emily, I gave you both a chance.”
Matt stands up, his eyes wet. He looks at Dr. Hansen. “Thank you for dinner.” He turns to Emily. “I’m really sorry. I’m gonna go home now.”
He marches through the living room, out the front door, into the darkness.
[ 5 ]
What About Your Parents?
Matt enters the front door of the cabin. Letters are laid out in organized piles on the kitchen table. Matt turns to the lump along the far wall. Uncle lies in his bed, in the fetal position.
“Uncle, I’m going swimming with Emily. Do you need anything?” He’s unresponsive. Matt walks to the back of the cabin where Uncle’s bed is pushed up against the wall. The open interior is sparse, except for the overflowing bookshelves. Books are stacked up on the floor against the walls, piled as high as a man. “Uncle, are you okay?” He touches the old man’s back. He feels bony and cold to the touch. “Uncle, are you okay?” Uncle’s eyes flutter. He groans.
Against the Grain Page 4
