One Moment at a Time

by Thomas, K. S.

  Instead, I’m greeted by a roaring household of seventeen.

  It takes me a good five minutes to count everyone, and several restarts given the children and the running around from room to room, but seventeen is the final number. I’m almost certain.

  “An American!” a boy shouts as he runs past. “Like Great Grandpa Jonny!” He doesn’t stay to say much else. From what I can tell, he’s in pursuit of a toddler who’s making a mad dash through the house with a loaf of bread I’m guessing she stole from the kitchen.

  In the midst of all this craziness, I notice I still understand every word being spoken. Apparently, my current saving grace is they all speak English, thanks to Great Grandpa Jonny from the good ole U.S. of A.

  “You’re Ben,” a young woman declares, coming out of nowhere to ambush me in the middle of the hallway. “I guess I can see it.”

  “I’m sorry?” I can’t see anything. Not even my own feet because a pack of schnauzers is currently surrounding them. I think there are three in total, but I got distracted by the woman talking to me before I could determine anything for sure. Hell, they could be cats for all I know.

  “You being the end all be all where men and Ky are concerned.” She does a little swishy thing in the air with her fingers moving up and down my body and hovering a bit around my torso and abs before doing another little dance around my face area. “Makes more sense now.”

  “Thank you?” Her tone and facial expression didn’t exactly let on it was a compliment, but the words sort of implied it. I think.

  She shifts a salad bowl from her right hand into her finger swishing hand and moves the now free hand out to greet me. “Adrianna.”

  I shake it and do my best to smile, though it’s hard when part of my face is still frowning from the total overwhelm of being inside this house. “Nice to meet you.”

  She laughs, probably because I look so pitiful. “Everyone will quiet down when they have food in their mouths.” Then she points toward an archway off the hall I last saw Great Grandpa Jonny disappear through before I got caught in this maze of people and animals. “Dining room’s right through there. The sooner you find a spot at the table, the better.”

  I just nod and start walking, dragging one schnauzer along as I go because he’s currently got his teeth in my pantleg. I don’t even mind. After all, it could be worse. It could be my leg.

  “Benjamin!” A woman wails dramatically at the sight of me. This one is old enough to be my mother, and she acts accordingly, hurrying toward me and kissing both of my cheeks before slapping one playfully. “You’re so late!”

  I wish I would have known how many people have been expecting me. More than that, I’m starting to wonder how many other stops I have left along my way to finding Ky, and how many more people are eagerly awaiting my arrival just so they can tell me how late I am.

  “I know,” I admit, bobbing my head with awkward regret. “I have no excuse. I’m an idiot.”

  “But you’re handsome, so it’s okay.” She kisses me one last time, then hurries to scare some kids out of stealing cheese from a big platter of deli fixings sitting near the center of the very long, very farmhouse family like, dining table. It’s all the rustic charm you would expect, and, I wouldn’t be surprised at all, if it could easily fit twenty people at it.

  “Sit, sit,” Jonny says, showing up beside me, a bottle of wine in his hand. “Always takes one person to do it first, then all the rest will follow.” He winks, moving past me toward the head of the table.

  Pretty sure there’s potential for overthinking the seating situation, so I just step forward and grab the first chair in my reach. Then, before anyone else can kiss me or bite me, I sit, doing my best to mind my business while I quietly watch the chaos continue to unfurl all around.

  Somehow, I’d hoped that it would simmer down once everyone moved into the dining room, but I was sorely mistaken. Instead, the insanity only seems to intensify. There’s shouting, in French now, and even as people are pulling out chairs to sit down, there’s a whirlwind of commotion between children duking it out for the same seats, teenagers wanting to sit together and adults questioning the already expansive spread on the table. All the while, old Jonny quietly sits at his end, casually dropping pieces of shaved ham for the dogs to eat.

  Again, I think (stupidly at this point) things will magically calm down once we’re all seated and prepared to eat dinner.

  Not the case.

  No.

  Because now, it’s time for introductions.

  “Ben,” the same woman who was busy making out with my cheeks earlier, calls from somewhere down my left, “Stand up so the family can meet you.”

  I do as I’m told and push my chair back far enough to stand. “I’m Ben,” I say with an uncomfortable nod around the table. “I assume everyone here has heard who I am and why I’m here?”

  A roar of conversation ensues, and again, I’m not included, though I can confidently conclude that I am the topic, as my name, as well as Ky’s, is continually thrown about.

  “Ey, ey!” the woman yells. “Manners, please. The poor boy is sitting right here.”

  The conversation stops and seventeen sets of wide, curious eyes stare back at me.

  I clear my throat. “Can I sit down again?”

  “Of course!” The woman gestures for me to sit. “Sit. Eat. We’ll talk more later!”

  And then, it’s as if she’s said the magic words, because with her command to eat, everyone does, and thus, a little calm begins to spread.

  chapter

  thirteen

  BEN

  Dinner is delicious, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just because I was starving when I got here. Everything is fresh and homemade and above and beyond anything I’ve tasted before, not counting Tank’s fish which lives in a category of its own making where meals are concerned. The woman who kept kissing me, as it turns out, is Marguerite and Jonny’s eldest daughter not his wife, but that’s all I’ve been able to piece together thus far in terms of names and relationships.

  Suffice it to say, this is the largest family dinner I’ve ever sat at and I am well out of my element. A close second would be the time Ky tricked me into crashing brunch with complete strangers, but I wasn’t much more adept at handling that either, and that was with her there as a tour guide to navigate the insanity.

  “Have I mentioned how dumb I think early morning staff meetings are?” she huffs as we leave the Chicken Shack. Danelle got Ky her old job back the second she rolled back into town. As of yet, I haven’t decided if I like seeing her again every time I clock in or not. I mean, I like seeing her, obviously, but there’s always misleading potential for comfort here, I may at some point get used to seeing her day in and day out, and then, when she decides to bolt, I’m going get pissed walking in here every day thinking about how she used to be here and how much I liked that. Basically, I should be looking for a new job as we speak, because that’s what will sooner or later come of this. Me having to quit to get away from being away from her.

  “Complain to Danelle, she’s the assistant manager. I’m but a lowly bartender with no power but to get you good and drunk.” I wiggle my brows at the suggestion. “In the mood? To get good and drunk?”

  She rolls her eyes and makes every effort to let me know how stupid she thinks my attempts at flirting with her are. “I’ll pass. And not just because I’m a bartender myself and can get myself good and drunk without your help should I ever choose to engage in such a senseless waste of time.”

  “Well, it’s only eleven and we don’t have to be back until three this afternoon. If getting drunk is out, what do you suggest we do with our time?”

  She stops halfway through the parking lot, still feet from her car, which is currently a hunter green Subaru on the verge of losing its back bumper. “Wait, our time? Like, we’re going to hang out? Just the two of us? On purpose?”

  “We hang out plenty,” I remind her.

  “Not exactly,” s
he argues. “Yes, our paths cross again and again. And yes, we spend a great deal of time together by default...because we have friends in common, work at the same place, and hang out at the same places.” She seems to be growing increasingly disappointed with her life the longer her list goes on and I’m on it, but then she seems to remember something she does like about spending time with me, because she lights up again. “Admittedly, some of those habitual hangouts did lead to some unexpected adventures.”

  “Uh-huh.” I could do without being reminded of some of those. They usually end in me doing something stupid which ruins said adventure, at least for me. “Maybe we can just go get some food.”

  She smirks, eyes laden with mischief. “Food works.” She crosses her arms and stares at me probingly. “Do I get to pick the place?”

  “Depends.” I cross my arms to match her stance. Apparently, we’re negotiating. Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.

  “On what?”

  “Am I paying?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Is this like...a date?”

  My eyes narrow. “If I asked you on a date, would you like...say yes?”

  She can hardly contain her laughter at this point.

  I’m less amused. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She nods, folding her lips in to try and hide the ongoing grin. “And I’ll assume you’re not paying.”

  “Definitely not paying,” I confirm, though, truthfully, it’s likely I’ll still pick up the tab when all is said and done.

  “So, I get to decide?” And we’ve come full circle.

  “You get to decide.” I think we both knew it was always going to play out this way.

  Her eyes dance sideways, as if she’s thinking. “Okay, then. Follow me. I have an idea.” She spins on her heel and hooks her arm, gesturing for me to come along.

  “You can’t just tell me where to meet you?” I call out after her. “I’m not sure I trust that bumper of yours enough to follow you.”

  She just laughs and keeps walking.

  “I have bungee cords in my truck,” I offer. “I could try and secure it a little better before we take off.”

  “Get in your truck, Ben,” she yells back, opening the driver’s side door to get in.

  “Will we be doing any highway driving? Like, anything over forty-five just seems like we’d be asking for it.”

  She moves to slide into her seat, arm shooting upward to flip me the bird just before her butt lands on the cushion.

  “I’m not even going to ask if you have insurance,” I shout as I walk past her busted little station wagon to get into my own truck.

  Defying logic and all scientific reason, the bumper holds up even as Ky is flying across town going an average of seventy-seven miles per hour, most of which is freeway driving. Then, upon parking, and apparently because she likes to tempt fate, she does a little knee bump with the dangling metal bar in what I can only describe as being a bizarre sort of high five gesture with her vehicle.

  I bypass my bumper commentary, most of which would have included my sheer amazement at seeing it arrive here with the rest of the Subaru and move onto more pressing matters. Like food.

  “What is this place?” I ask as I fall into step beside her.

  She points up at the sign above the doors. “Boulangerie.”

  “Yeah, I can read, jackass,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear. “And before you go and tell me it’s French food, I got that too.”

  She turns over her shoulder and grins. “I forget how clever you are.” Mockery. It’s never ending with her. “Boulangerie means bakery in French. But it’s a full bistro, just has the added benefit of all in house baked breads and such. It’s pretty amazing.” She shrugs. “At least, that’s what I hear. It’s crazy expensive, so I’ve never been.”

  “How expensive?” I’ve got all my tips from last night on me, but I wasn’t planning to blow them all on one meal.

  “Like I wouldn’t eat here if I had to pay expensive.”

  I hook one of her beltloops with my finger and tug her to a stop. “I thought we established I wasn’t going to pay.”

  “We did.”

  I’m confused, but I’m used to this. “If I’m not paying, and you’re not paying...how is this going to work out? Because I never pegged you for the dine and dash sort.”

  Her face turns serious at the mere mention of it. “Obviously not.”

  “Ky?” I’m still waiting for an explanation to my initial question.

  She twists her mouth back and forth as if she can’t decide whether to tell me or not. “Here’s the thing. I happen to know, that there’s a birthday brunch for Cousin Kathy happening in there today.”

  “Who’s Cousin Kathy?” I’m still lost.

  “She’s like, the black sheep of the family. Like, literally wears all black. Almost everyone thinks she’s a witch or something, but Grandma Janis insisted everyone show up for her birthday since she’s turning seventy. Easy for Grandma Janis to say, since she’s bedridden with a busted hip right now. But she’s footing the bill, so, you know.” She shrugs. As if it’s all just that self-explanatory.

  “What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about?” I rake my hands through my hair and over my face. “Grandma Janis? Cousin Kathy? Who are these people?”

  “Look Ben,” she says, and yes, she has the audacity to seem annoyed with me, “I’ve told you everything I know. The rest I’m sure we’ll find out at brunch.”

  “When you said you happened to know about brunch...how similar is that to being invited?”

  She mulls it over. “Pretty close, actually.” She sighs, clearly an act of surrender. She’s about to break it down for me, but in real words I can make sense of. “Remember that couple sitting at the bar last night? Chick was drinking a steady stream of Malibu and coke while the dude was sipping scotch on the rocks all night?”

  I remember. He was all pretentious about his scotch and then ordered the shittiest one we carry. “Uh-huh.”

  “So, they’re Cousin Kathy’s cousins. Well, Mason, the dude, by blood, Clare, the chick, married in and not at all thrilled about it.” She makes a face. “Anyway, by the time they left, they felt they had sufficiently secured themselves a hangover that would prevent them from attending today. Thus, there will be two empty seats at the table. Both of which Grandma Janis has already paid for.”

  I finally get it. And, totally wish I hadn’t asked. “You want us to go crash someone’s birthday party?”

  She makes a face. “Um, in the name of brunch!” She nods vigorously. “Absolutely.” She starts marching for the doors again, no sign of any qualms or hesitation regarding the insane plan she’s about to enact.

  “Who exactly are we going to claim to be?” I inquire, purely for hypothetical sake.

  She rolls her eyes. “Mason and Clare. Do you listen at all when I’m talking to you?”

  I don’t answer that. It’s meant purely to distract me. “Won’t Cousin Kathy know we’re not Mason and Clare?”

  “No.” She seems oddly certain of this. “No one will know. Because everyone here will be from Mason’s dad’s side of the family and he hasn’t seen any of them since his parents got divorced when he was five. He only just moved back here for work, and lucky for him, just in time to be invited to Cousin Kathy’s birthday brunch.”

  I’m about three steps out from the door. Three steps from committing to this insanity. “I’m equal parts disturbed and impressed right now,” I tell her, hand reaching for the handle. “Come on, Clare. We don’t want to be late for Cousin Kathy’s birthday.”

  She grins. “I know, she might hex us.”

  “Hell, she might do that anyway.”

  At the time, I thought we’d evaded the curse. All in all, it had been a brunch for the records, certainly more fun than any brunch I’d ever had with my own family, and shockingly, no one had questioned our identity much beyond the initial introductions. Then again, I think most of the party members were just happy to have more p
eople present to absorb the essence that was Cousin Kathy – and she was all that the rumors had promised. Clad in black, silver hair worn in an assembly of braids and beads and feathers with a collection of crystals strung around her neck and wrists. She wasn’t so much scary as she was ominous in everything from the way she spoke to the way she would just stare at you from across the table.

  Anyway, now, all these years later and the way Ky and I wound up separated by distance and time in ways I never dreamed possible, I’m starting to think a curse may have been the cause all along.

  “Ben,” Marguerite starts, after everyone is well into their second helpings. “Tell us about your trip. How did you come to find us?”

  I swallow the piece of brie I only just popped into my mouth and look up to seek her out across the table. “Ky,” I answer, opening with the simplest aspect of my explanation. “She told me something would be waiting for me here.” I glance around the table and the endless sea of faces now listening with great intent. “Of course, I had no idea it would be multiple generations of her relatives.”

  All at once, there’s an uproar of laughter moving like a wave from one end of the table to the other.

  “Is it funny because there’s more of you?” I say uncomfortably, kind of desperate to be in on the joke for once.

  “It’s funny,” Jonny says, still chuckling, “because we’re not related to Ky.”

  Wait. What? I cough, choking on a piece of bread. “Huh?” is the only sound I can force out in the moment.

  “That’s exactly what we said when we found out,” a guy not much younger than me says from several seats down. “Two months after she was living here.” He cracks up all over again. “She’d been to every birthday party, a funeral and had at least three pictures framed and hanging on the walls already. I think Grandpa Jonny even put her in his will.”

  Jonny salutes the guy with his half-drunk glass of wine and smiles. “Sure did. Left her in it, too.”

  “It was an honest mistake,” Marguerite explains, “and we were all to blame for it.”

  A young girl in her late teens elbows the woman next to her, the same one who’d conceded I could be the end all be all for men after meeting me. “It’s all Adrianna’s fault. She’s the one who jumped on the chance of having a girl cousin her age.”