Games of the Heart
Page 130
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Neither moved much. Kirby shuffled and Fin’s eyes cut to his Mom.
“You helpin’ Aunt Dusty?” he asked.
“I’m thinkin’ I’m not feelin’ up to it today,” Rhonda replied, her voice soft.
“Yeah, and you weren’t up to much yesterday or the day before that or the week before that or the f**kin’ month before that,” Fin clipped, his tone hard, his face harder and I sucked in breath. I figured he likely cursed but I’d never heard him curse at his mother.
“Fin –” I started.
“Finley, we don’t use that word,” Rhonda talked over me.
He threw out his hands as his eyes narrowed, “Oh, you gonna be a Mom now? Is that it? You’re gonna be a Mom now when for the last three months you been nothin’ but a zombie.”
Oh God. Fin was done. I could tell by his tone and the look on his face. His patience with his Mom, strained now for weeks, had snapped.
“Fin, honey, careful,” I whispered and Fin’s eyes sliced to me.
“Careful?” he asked. “You’ve tried careful, Aunt Dusty. Gram tried careful. Gramps tried careful. It isn’t working.”
I opened my mouth to reply but Rhonda straightened up to sitting and got there before me.
“Finley, you know it’s been hard on me,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?” Fin bit out. “Well, clue in, Ma. It’s been hard on all of us.” He threw his hand out at the last. “You don’t have a husband anymore. I get that. You know why I get that? ‘Cause I don’t have a Dad. We all lost him, not just you. And all sorts of shit has gone down all around you and you’re like, in a daze or somethin’, lettin’ it happen and not steppin’ up for the farm, for your boys, for anyone. Not even yourself. And you know what that feels like, Ma?” he asked but didn’t wait for her to answer. He laid it out. “It feels like we not only lost our Dad but also that we lost our Mom. And the first one sucked big time. You addin’ the last seriously f**kin’ sucks. Dad didn’t have any control over dyin’. But you? That’s a different f**king story.”
Rhonda lifted her hand to her throat and whispered, “I can’t believe you’d speak to me that way. Your father would never speak to me that way.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But I bet, he was here now, he’d be as done with your shit as I am,” Finley returned then without another word and not allowing anyone to say one, he stalked out of sight.
We all stood there, frozen, silent.
After a while Kirby asked softly, “You want me to take care of the stalls, Aunt Dusty?”
I took in another breath and looked to him. “No, honey, get to the pole barn. We’ll deal with the horses.”
He looked to his Mom then to me then he nodded and moved down the hall.
I looked to Rhonda who still had her eyes aimed where Finley had been, her face paler than normal but it wasn’t blank. There was pain stark in it.
Shit. I didn’t want to hit her when she was down.
But I had to hit her when she was down.
“Rhonda,” I called gently and her eyes drifted to me.
“My boy just talked to me like that,” she whispered.
“Yes, he did,” I told her. “He’s dealing with a lot. He needs you now.”
It was like I didn’t speak.
Still whispering, she said, “He said the f-word and the s-word. Repeatedly.”
Honestly? That was all she took out of that? Fin cursing?
“He was angry, Rhonda,” I pointed out the obvious.
“We don’t say those words in this house.”
God! I wanted to shake her!
“Rhonda, look at me,” I ordered.
“I am, Dusty,” she replied and she was.
But I still said, “Really look at me and listen to me, listen closely. Are you listening to me?”
She nodded.
I spoke.
“I know you’re suffering. I know you’re lost. But you have got to find yourself. You have got to dig down deep and pull up the strength to move on from Darrin’s loss. I’m asking you to do that for you. I’m asking you to do that for your sons. But mostly I’m asking you to do that for Darrin. I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t know how else to reach you. Fin was right. Darrin took care of you, he protected you from a lot but if he knew you were letting his boys swing in the wind like this, he would be disappointed in you. Even angry. And if you think about it and you’re honest with yourself, you’d know I’m right.”
She was even paler when I finished that and I hoped to God that I got through and she listened to me.
After what Fin said, I decided to leave it at that and finished, “Now, I have a lot to do and I need to start doing it. It would help me out a lot if you could get changed and meet Mom and me out in the barn. A lot, Rhonda. And I’m gonna point out I left my life to help take your back. The least you could do is scoop out some oats, shovel some horse shit and place some pottery in crates.”
Then, quickly, I exited the room.
As soon as I got outside, I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket and called Dad to give him a head’s up about Fin’s disposition and what went down. My beloved nephew didn’t need to be pissed as all hell and on a tractor with a farm grade rototiller on the back of it.
Then I got to the barn to see Mom setting out crates and filling them with the finely shredded straw I packed my pottery in.
Mom and I got down to work.
Rhonda did not join us.
*
My horses were fed. Their stalls mucked (by me). My pottery was crated. Dad and the boys were out on tractors. Mom was at Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe buying flowers. Rhonda was wherever Rhonda was. And I was at my wheel, Big and Rich singing, “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” when she showed.
And she took me by surprise.
Hunter warned me, keep the music down, be aware of your surroundings. Did I listen?
No.
Therefore I found myself sitting, leaned forward, my hands forming a bowl while Audrey strode into the barn wearing a slim-fitting, pencil skirt, a shiny, satin blouse and a pair of stiletto-heeled pumps that even I, who the vast majority of the time wore cowboy boots, flip-flops or thick socks (when it was cold), would likely kill for.
How could a day that started out so f**king great turn to complete and total shit?
“Dusty?” she called as she got close.
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
“Audrey,” I replied.
“Can we talk?”
Jesus. Was she serious? Showing up at my family farm out-of-the-blue dressed like someone out of a TV show about women who spend their time drinking cosmos, having sex, talking about sex, shopping for clothes and bitching about men and she wanted to talk?
“You helpin’ Aunt Dusty?” he asked.
“I’m thinkin’ I’m not feelin’ up to it today,” Rhonda replied, her voice soft.
“Yeah, and you weren’t up to much yesterday or the day before that or the week before that or the f**kin’ month before that,” Fin clipped, his tone hard, his face harder and I sucked in breath. I figured he likely cursed but I’d never heard him curse at his mother.
“Fin –” I started.
“Finley, we don’t use that word,” Rhonda talked over me.
He threw out his hands as his eyes narrowed, “Oh, you gonna be a Mom now? Is that it? You’re gonna be a Mom now when for the last three months you been nothin’ but a zombie.”
Oh God. Fin was done. I could tell by his tone and the look on his face. His patience with his Mom, strained now for weeks, had snapped.
“Fin, honey, careful,” I whispered and Fin’s eyes sliced to me.
“Careful?” he asked. “You’ve tried careful, Aunt Dusty. Gram tried careful. Gramps tried careful. It isn’t working.”
I opened my mouth to reply but Rhonda straightened up to sitting and got there before me.
“Finley, you know it’s been hard on me,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?” Fin bit out. “Well, clue in, Ma. It’s been hard on all of us.” He threw his hand out at the last. “You don’t have a husband anymore. I get that. You know why I get that? ‘Cause I don’t have a Dad. We all lost him, not just you. And all sorts of shit has gone down all around you and you’re like, in a daze or somethin’, lettin’ it happen and not steppin’ up for the farm, for your boys, for anyone. Not even yourself. And you know what that feels like, Ma?” he asked but didn’t wait for her to answer. He laid it out. “It feels like we not only lost our Dad but also that we lost our Mom. And the first one sucked big time. You addin’ the last seriously f**kin’ sucks. Dad didn’t have any control over dyin’. But you? That’s a different f**king story.”
Rhonda lifted her hand to her throat and whispered, “I can’t believe you’d speak to me that way. Your father would never speak to me that way.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But I bet, he was here now, he’d be as done with your shit as I am,” Finley returned then without another word and not allowing anyone to say one, he stalked out of sight.
We all stood there, frozen, silent.
After a while Kirby asked softly, “You want me to take care of the stalls, Aunt Dusty?”
I took in another breath and looked to him. “No, honey, get to the pole barn. We’ll deal with the horses.”
He looked to his Mom then to me then he nodded and moved down the hall.
I looked to Rhonda who still had her eyes aimed where Finley had been, her face paler than normal but it wasn’t blank. There was pain stark in it.
Shit. I didn’t want to hit her when she was down.
But I had to hit her when she was down.
“Rhonda,” I called gently and her eyes drifted to me.
“My boy just talked to me like that,” she whispered.
“Yes, he did,” I told her. “He’s dealing with a lot. He needs you now.”
It was like I didn’t speak.
Still whispering, she said, “He said the f-word and the s-word. Repeatedly.”
Honestly? That was all she took out of that? Fin cursing?
“He was angry, Rhonda,” I pointed out the obvious.
“We don’t say those words in this house.”
God! I wanted to shake her!
“Rhonda, look at me,” I ordered.
“I am, Dusty,” she replied and she was.
But I still said, “Really look at me and listen to me, listen closely. Are you listening to me?”
She nodded.
I spoke.
“I know you’re suffering. I know you’re lost. But you have got to find yourself. You have got to dig down deep and pull up the strength to move on from Darrin’s loss. I’m asking you to do that for you. I’m asking you to do that for your sons. But mostly I’m asking you to do that for Darrin. I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t know how else to reach you. Fin was right. Darrin took care of you, he protected you from a lot but if he knew you were letting his boys swing in the wind like this, he would be disappointed in you. Even angry. And if you think about it and you’re honest with yourself, you’d know I’m right.”
She was even paler when I finished that and I hoped to God that I got through and she listened to me.
After what Fin said, I decided to leave it at that and finished, “Now, I have a lot to do and I need to start doing it. It would help me out a lot if you could get changed and meet Mom and me out in the barn. A lot, Rhonda. And I’m gonna point out I left my life to help take your back. The least you could do is scoop out some oats, shovel some horse shit and place some pottery in crates.”
Then, quickly, I exited the room.
As soon as I got outside, I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket and called Dad to give him a head’s up about Fin’s disposition and what went down. My beloved nephew didn’t need to be pissed as all hell and on a tractor with a farm grade rototiller on the back of it.
Then I got to the barn to see Mom setting out crates and filling them with the finely shredded straw I packed my pottery in.
Mom and I got down to work.
Rhonda did not join us.
*
My horses were fed. Their stalls mucked (by me). My pottery was crated. Dad and the boys were out on tractors. Mom was at Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe buying flowers. Rhonda was wherever Rhonda was. And I was at my wheel, Big and Rich singing, “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” when she showed.
And she took me by surprise.
Hunter warned me, keep the music down, be aware of your surroundings. Did I listen?
No.
Therefore I found myself sitting, leaned forward, my hands forming a bowl while Audrey strode into the barn wearing a slim-fitting, pencil skirt, a shiny, satin blouse and a pair of stiletto-heeled pumps that even I, who the vast majority of the time wore cowboy boots, flip-flops or thick socks (when it was cold), would likely kill for.
How could a day that started out so f**king great turn to complete and total shit?
“Dusty?” she called as she got close.
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
“Audrey,” I replied.
“Can we talk?”
Jesus. Was she serious? Showing up at my family farm out-of-the-blue dressed like someone out of a TV show about women who spend their time drinking cosmos, having sex, talking about sex, shopping for clothes and bitching about men and she wanted to talk?
