Fallout

Hunter

  SOMETIMES I SHOULD SHUT MY MOUTH

  I knew bringing up Brendan

  wasn’t the most tactful thing

  to do, especially on Christmas.

  But sometimes Kristina makes

  me so mad, I want to hurt her.

  It’s stupid. She doesn’t injure

  easily, at least not when the slaps

  are verbal. When I mentioned

  Brendan, she didn’t say anything

  immediately. Finally she said,

  I’m surprised he came back.

  Surprised he’s still alive,

  actually. He ripped off a lot

  of people. Even worse than

  he took advantage of me.

  We were almost home by

  then. I slowed enough to get

  a few words in. “Don’t suppose

  you’ll take some responsibility

  for what happened that night?”

  ANGER PUFFED

  From her mouth in

  abbreviated breaths.

  What? You

  want to

  blame me

  for getting

  raped?

  Oh

  my

  God.

  And then she really

  pissed me off.

  Just like

  a man.

  Despite Grandpa

  Bill’s obvious

  uneasiness, I jumped.

  “All men are not alike.

  And, thank God, all

  women are not like you.”

  SHE HASN’T SPOKEN

  To me since. Not that I care.

  When we got home, she went

  straight into the house and

  retreated somewhere with

  the boys. For all of ten minutes.

  Then I noticed Donald join

  Grandpa Bill in the family room.

  He got a new game system

  for Christmas. They’re playing.

  I am helping Mom wash veggies

  when David bops by with Sasha.

  “Where’s Kristina?” I ask.

  He shrugs. She went outside

  to smoke a cigarette. Why

  does she like those stinky things?

  Mom answers, Tobacco

  is addictive. Once you start

  smoking, it’s really hard to quit.

  I’ll never smoke, he decides.

  Not if it makes you smell

  like that. Come on, Sasha.

  EVENTUALLY

  Kristina comes back inside,

  trailed by Jake and Misty,

  who have just arrived bearing

  gifts like Christmas magi.

  They sweep into the kitchen,

  Leigh close on their heels,

  put the presents on the table,

  chant a chorus of “Merry Christmas.”

  Kristina heads straight for

  the brightly wrapped boxes,

  finds one with her name on

  it. Ooh. Can I open it now?

  Leigh stops her from tearing

  into the Santa-and-puppy

  paper. Why don’t we wait

  for Scott to get back?

  Kristina, who has managed

  to ignore me completely,

  reluctantly agrees. Nicotine

  obviously can work wonders.

  Jake goes into the family room,

  and I hear him say, Grandpa

  Bill! I didn’t know you were

  here. Where’s your car?

  Damn DMV wouldn’t re-up

  my license. Said my eyes

  don’t work so good anymore.

  Hate to admit they’re right.

  The banter picks up speed in

  the kitchen as Mom and Misty

  and Leigh and Kristina start

  yakking girl talk. Enough, already.

  I’m on my way to the family room

  when the doorbell rings. Nikki?

  She’s early, but that’s all good.

  I swing the door open. “Nik!”

  Autumn

  THIS HOUSE IS INSANE

  Insane, as in beautiful.

  I stand on the front porch,

  staring up at the tall doors.

  Oak, with beveled stained glass.

  I wait for the familiar tingle

  in my fingers. But I don’t

  feel close to panic. I reach

  out. Ring the doorbell.

  The door jerks open. Nik!

  But I’m not Nik, whoever he

  is, and the boy who is waiting

  for him is confused. Uh …

  Can I help you? He is older

  than me by a year or two,

  with mink-colored hair and

  eyes an unusual shade of green.

  We are related, but I’m not

  sure how, and even less sure

  of what to say. I start to back

  away, but Trey takes over for me.

  You must be Hunter. Wow.

  I haven’t seen you since you

  were a baby. Damn. I’m, um …

  Is Kristina here, by any chance?

  Hunter—my brother—nods an

  “oh, okay” nod, turns, and yells,

  Kristina! Someone’s here to see

  you. Beyond him, amazing Christmas

  decorations swag staircase

  railings, and the scent of turkey

  roasting and bread dough rising

  makes my mouth start to water.

  A woman comes to the door.

  I have dreamed of this face,

  only a younger version of it.

  Kristina. My mother. Curiosity

  lights her eyes, only to be

  replaced by sudden wonder.

  Trey, she says. What are you …?

  Then her eyes fall on me.

  AT FIRST

  There is no hint of recognition.

  I could be a Jehovah’s Witness,

  passing out literature. But then,

  a rain:

  Memory search

  Denial

  Rewind

  Inquiry

  Puzzlement

  Recognition

  Surprise

  Shock

  Stunned

  Acceptance

  Autumn? Is that really you?

  She comes forward, hand

  extended toward my face.

  Suddenly I don’t want her

  to touch me. I don’t know why

  not, except you don’t let strangers

  touch you, do you? I step back.

  Annoyance shadows her eyes.

  So much for imagined reunions.

  NOW IT IS HUNTER

  Who rescues me. Autumn,

  he says matter-of-factly. I always

  hoped we’d meet one day.

  Come in. It’s cold out there.

  The house is full of people.

  Thank goodness I’ve had a little

  practice lately being around

  a mob of not-quite-family. Lots

  of introductions. Two aunts.

  One uncle. A great-grandfather.

  Another grandmother. Marie.

  Three brothers. And my mother.

  Everyone seems excited to see me.

  I’m not sure how to feel in return.

  Voices. Questions. Puppy feet.

  Television, loud. Timer buzzers.

  Oven doors closing. The whistle

  of a teakettle. It’s all too much.

  I ASK FOR DIRECTIONS

  To the bathroom. Follow them

  through a maze of halls and space.

  This house is crazy. Compared

  to Grandfather’s staid white

  rooms, these are warm with wall

  color, art, and hardwood floors.

  I don’t know my grandmother yet,

  but I feel her presence here.

  She’s an author. I’ve seen her

  books around
school, though

  I’ve never opened one.

  I wonder if I would have, had

  I known how much they relate

  to me. I think maybe not. Surreal.

  I wander down a long hallway,

  hung thickly with family photos.

  Hunter in Little League. Kristina

  as a teenager. And uh … me,

  as a baby. I was here all along.

  I need air. I cut through my grand-

  mother’s office, go out a side door.

  Summer

  LOOKS LIKE THE PARTY’S STARTED

  The driveway is choked with cars,

  lined bumper-to-bumper against

  the berms of piled snow. “Did you

  do all that shoveling, Grandpa?”

  He maneuvers the Lexus carefully.

  With a little help from your brothers.

  “Brothers? Plural? You actually got

  the boys to work?” That’s a surprise.

  Believe it or not, Donald has become

  quite a good helper. David would still

  rather play with the puppy, but he’s

  getting better too. Consistency.

  We could all use a little of that.

  Grandpa noses the SUV against

  the garage, and as we exit the car,

  the office door opens. “Who’s that?”

  The girl is a year or two older than me,

  with thick copper hair tumbling loose

  to her shoulders. She is not dressed

  for snow. I have no idea, Grandpa says.

  She stares up into the crackled

  blue sky, lost in solitary reverie.

  I am connected to her in some

  unfathomable way. The door opens

  again, and out comes my mom

  with some guy I don’t know either.

  They light cigarettes, and Grandpa

  Scott says in a stiffened voice, Trey.

  Everything clicks into place. Trey plus

  Kristina equals, “Autumn.” My sister.

  She pivots like a soldier on drill, goes

  back inside. This day is full of surprises.

  GRANDPA SCOTT SHIVERS

  Cold out here. Let’s go inside.

  But he creeps along, trying, I think,

  to understand what this development

  means. Trey has materialized, a ghost

  of times best left unremembered.

  And Autumn? What does she know

  of those times? How much does

  she really want to know? Still,

  the little chills quivering through me

  have nothing to do with air temp.

  “I didn’t even know I had a sister

  until a couple of weeks ago.”

  Grandpa looks truly surprised.

  Someone should have told you.

  But so you know, Marie has been

  trying to track her down for years.

  I glance over at Mom and Trey,

  who stand close to each other,

  exhaling smoke into iced air.

  “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”

  Grandpa shrugs. I’ve never

  quite figured Kristina out.

  It’s almost like she fuels

  herself on secrets and lies.

  GRANDMA MARIE’S KITCHEN

  Has always felt like sanctuary.

  Some people might think

  that’s a cliché, but compared

  to any other kitchen I’ve ever

  spent time in, this one is always

  the gathering place. Warm.

  Spice-scented. Spilling laughter

  and conversation. Today there

  is more. Today there is reunion.

  And, for some of us, relationships

  too new to quite comprehend.

  Grandma Marie is at the counter

  kneading dough. Aunt Leigh

  and Aunt Misty play cards at the table.

  Autumn hovers in a corner, trying

  to make sense of what these women

  mean to her. I know the feeling well.

  Might as well try the direct approach.

  “Hi, Autumn,” I call across the short

  expanse of tile. My feet follow, until

  I stand in front of her. “I’m Summer….”

  SHE IS WARY

  Like a caged cat, escaped,

  but unsure of the wild lands

  beyond the bars. I understand.

  Already, we walk common ground.

  It is tenuous turf, riddled with

  the rifts and earthquakes of our

  personal histories. We confess

  scenes. Abbreviated clips.

  With her soft Texas drawl

  and faux hippie wardrobe,

  on the surface she is nothing

  like me. But just below the skin,

  we find connection. I shudder

  to think why that might be, because

  our common denominator is

  someone I don’t want to resemble.

  Autumn and I talk for an hour,

  while the house fills with holiday

  cheer. I don’t know where we’ll go

  tomorrow, but today there is communion

  here, and now I have a sister.

  There is power in that. Today

  I am surrounded by family

  and affection, uncluttered by need.

  Hunter

  SURPRISES

  Are rarely good things

  around here. Today they

  are kind of a mixed bag.

  Good: Meeting a sister I only

  half believed existed.

  Not-so-good: Meeting a guy I always

  half blamed for Kristina’s

  return to the monster.

  Good: Watching Summer and

  Autumn test the choppy

  waters of sisterhood.

  Not-so-good: Watching Kristina pay

  more attention to Trey

  than to her children.

  Good: Seeing how well David

  and Donald are coping

  despite being ignored.

  Not-so-good: Seeing that no matter

  how some things change,

  others never will.

  THE BEST SURPRISE

  Of the day was Nikki

  opening her arms, allowing me

  back into her life.

  I have to remember how bad

  being closed out felt.

  I know we’re young,

  that we have a long way to go,

  and love has a way of

  fading. I can’t promise her we can

  keep ours alive, but

  I can promise to give

  it a damn good try. Temptation

  is something I can’t

  control. Flirtation is a whole

  different thing.

  As afternoon slants

  toward evening and she hasn’t

  arrived, anxiety nips.

  What if she changed her mind?

  Should I call her?

  But then the doorbell

  rings and I know it’s her and

  now it really feels

  like Christmas. Thanks, Santa,

  for the best gift ever.

  DESPITE HER MOM STARING

  I pull Nikki into my arms, kiss

  her like we don’t have an audience.

  Then I notice the bags her mom

  holds. “Let me take those for you.”

  I peek inside. Eggnog and brandy.

  This could prove an interesting

  afternoon. I lead the ladies into

  the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”

  It is a busy place. Mom slices

  turkey. Leigh mashes potatoes.

  Misty spoons cranberry sauce,

  trying not to trip over Sasha,

  who sits, tail wagging at

  the prospect of some offered

&nb
sp; tidbit. David obliges, slipping

  her bits of roasted poultry skin.

  Autumn and Summer have

  tag-teamed the table setting.

  Nikki and her mom see what

  they can do to help. It might

  be a scene right out of a Norman

  Rockwell painting. Except,

  of course, it isn’t. It can’t be.

  Because this is our family.

  Autumn

  DINNER IS READY

  My grandfather—Grandpa Scott,

  he said to call him—has announced

  that it’s time to eat. We all gather

  at the table, which has two large

  folding tables placed at one

  end, and still we’ll all barely fit.

  Once everyone has found a seat,

  two chairs are too obviously empty.

  Hunter goes to the door, calls loudly,

  Kristina! We’re all at the table.

  Are the two of you planning to join

  us? Room service is closed.

  His voice carries thinly veiled anger,

  and his girlfriend shoots a warning

  glance that says, Watch your temper.

  Earlier, I heard Hunter talking

  to Grandma Marie. Why is Kristina

  outside? he asked. Why isn’t she

  with her kids? Why can’t she just

  act like a mom? Doesn’t she care

  about them? Doesn’t she love them?

  Grandma answered right

  away, as if she’d thought about

  the question many times before.

  I think she wants to love them.

  Wants to love all of you. But

  she can’t. I told you how meth

  eats into the brain. Well, the part

  that gets chewed away is

  the part that lets people love.

  I think about that as Kristina

  and Trey finally find their way

  to the table. How sad if they

  really aren’t able to love.

  It explains a lot. But it also

  raises more questions.

  QUESTIONS LIKE

  Why am I here?

  What have I accomplished

  by coming all this way?

  I wanted to meet my mother.

  Mission accomplished.

  What does it mean?

  We haven’t even spoken

  to each other. My fault,

  I guess. Should I have

  run into her arms?

  Do I open

  my arms to her now?

  She seems much more

  interested in rekindling

  things with Trey.

  Does she care

  at all about getting to