TAUT

by JA Huss

  Ashleigh lets out a loud snore and then rolls over my way again. Even in the dim light she looks pale and exhausted. All this caregiving is draining her. She needs someone to care for her.

  And really, that’s what families do. They care for each other. So when the bad stuff comes they have someone to lean on. A family is really like a team. People you can rely on to have your back. At least that’s how it was for me. My mom and dad always had my back.

  I had a lot of fucking therapy as a kid. Mostly because I was defective. And weird. I refused to talk, I carried on when people touched me. I learned things too quickly. I never made friends. In fact, I just didn’t get the point of friends. I didn’t need them. I only needed me.

  Or so I thought. Because obviously I just never understood what it meant to have these other relationships in my life.

  Spencer living across the street from me all growing up was a convenient friendship. That’s how we became close over the years. And he never fucked with me. Ever. When I told him not to touch me, he shrugged and said whatever. Then went back to sorting through his Matchbox cars, giving me half—always the shitty ones. But he never questioned me. He was just there. And I suppose that’s where that loyalty to him and Ronin stems from. Spencer’s unconditional acceptance of me and my weirdness.

  I never really appreciated him. Or Ronin, for that matter.

  My therapists—all of my many, many therapists—they all warned me that being alone is not part of the human condition.

  That’s the word they used. Always. The human condition. Like it needs to be capitalized.

  People are social, they insisted. And since I am a person, I need to be social.

  It just never happened that way. I did get better at things. I can talk to people, obviously. I did well in school. I played on teams and learned that whole working together lesson. And there’s no way you can produce shows and films alone. Even if you carry the camera and do the editing yourself, you have to have actors.

  MIT never understood why I turned them down, but I knew accepting that offer was a dead end for me. I knew it instinctively. I knew that locking myself away in a lab curing diseases, or desperately seeking to understand the real significance of the Higgs boson, or looking up in the night sky trying to discern the percentage of nitrogen gas around distant planets—or any of the other millions of more worthwhile things I should be doing with my intellect than producing game shows—these things, these experiences would not be in my best interest.

  Because even though people are social, the self has to come first or it all breaks down.

  I went to film school to save myself from wasting my life away as a lonely, solitary introvert.

  I joined my first team when I went to college. Not the baseball team or the occasional pick-up hockey teams. My first social team—Film Studies. That one step forward opened the door to Ronin, Spencer, and Mardee. My first, and only, professional team. Which led to Rook. Which led to Ashleigh.

  And even though I’m here for my own selfish reasons—I like her, I want to fuck her nightly and again every morning—right now, this actual moment in time, I’m here because Ashleigh looks like she could use another team member.

  I’d like to be on her team.

  Kate squirms and I pat her back. She’s already got me trained. If she wiggles a little she can get a part of the human condition we all crave.

  Intimacy and love.

  And since I’m part of the human condition, as well as a sucker for adorable babies who have moms named Ashleigh, I give in. I pat her back until she’s sleeping so deep she no longer notices the lack of rhythmic thumping against her skin.

  But since she’s part of the human condition as well, she returns the favor. And I drift off to the beat of her heart against mine, feeling appreciated and satisfied.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  It’s the French toast that wakes me. Kate is no longer on my chest—in fact, I’m face down in the pillow. Ashleigh is also missing. Which explains the French toast.

  Four Seasons room service.

  I roll out of bed, glance at myself in the mirror, stop to flatten down some bedhead, and then make my way out to the living area of the suite. The dining table is filled with food, but that’s not what catches my attention first. “She sits!” I beam at Kate in her highchair and she shoots me a toothless grin and flails her hands in response.

  Ashleigh is sitting at the table wearing a fluffy white robe, spooning some goop into Kate’s eager mouth. “Yeah,” she smiles over her shoulder. “She’s four months today and I thought I’d see if she could manage the chair.”

  “Four months. You said three years.”

  “You asked when they could sit in a chair alone or something ridiculous like that. She can’t sit up all by herself just yet. But probably pretty soon. They learn new things every day when they’re this small.”

  I’m intrigued. “What else do they do at four months?”

  “Roll over, so keep an eye out. And teeth will be coming soon, I think.”

  The table is filled with pretty much everything on the breakfast menu so I help myself to some eggs and waffles, pour some syrup, and take a seat on the other side of Ash. “So she’s gonna be entertaining us daily? Nice.”

  “Yeah, well, she’ll also start getting more demanding and stop sleeping so much too. This is when the hard part starts.” Ash lets out a long sigh and I know exactly what that sigh says. She’s gonna have to deal with all the bad stuff alone. And all the good stuff is just a little less fun when she’s got no one to share it with.

  “I’ll help if you need anything. I got her to sleep last night, didn’t I?”

  Ashleigh looks up at me again. “Thank you. And…” She trails off a little and I swear she’s blushing. “I’d just like to officially declare that last night was amazing. Except—”

  I raise my eyebrows and swallow my eggs. “You have a complaint? How is this possible?”

  She blushes even brighter. “You just said… and normally I would not bring it up, but you’re the one who said…”

  I wait, but she waves her hand in a never-mind gesture.

  “Said? What?”

  She shakes her head furiously and then giggles. She’s too embarrassed to say the words.

  I can’t help myself, I laugh. “You have to say it or I’ll punish you. Three swats for not finishing a thought, and one extra when it’s about sex.”

  “Well, you said, back in the room in Utah, that you’d tie my ankles to my thighs.”

  I laugh.

  “Ford, you made me come with words. That’s not something you forget.”

  “I do not take requests, Miss Li. So I can make no promises.”

  “Whatever.”

  “But I’ll do my best to fulfill your secret desires next time.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “You have no idea what my secret desires are.”

  “No?”

  “No, but I know what yours is.” She smirks at me.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Me.” The light dances off her mischievous eyes and then she bats her lashes.

  God, she’s cute. “You’re right. You are my most secret desire.” I lean over the small table and bite her earlobe, whispering in her ear, “Will there be a next time?”

  She draws in a deep breath. “I hope so. But I have to see what happens today. I’m just not sure what’s gonna happen.”

  “I understand.” I bite her softly again, hoping she understands what that bite says.

  Ashleigh wipes Kate’s face, much to the dismay of the infant, and then scoops her up out of the high chair and saunters off. “We’re gonna take a bath before we go.”

  I try to will myself not to feel disappointed, but I can’t help it. This is it. This—whatever it is—is over. My food is suddenly unappetizing and I push the plate away and go out onto the balcony.

  It’s loud outside. Even though we’re thirty-nine floors up, it’s still loud. Most of the noise is wind, but
the sound of a city as busy as Vegas can never really be drowned out. I lean over the railing, soaking up the sun for a while. It feels good after the blizzards in Colorado this winter.

  God, I just don’t know how to process this Ashleigh thing. She’s the one who mentioned the possibility of a next time. She’s sending such mixed signals. And part of me wonders if some of her actions and feelings towards me are only due to her unstable state of mind. She’s definitely not one hundred percent in the emotional department, but then again, who is? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m all over the place too. One minute I’m New Ford, team of one. And then the next I’m playing father to an infant whose real father is waiting for her in LA.

  Maybe I should back off. Bow out gracefully and exhibit all those bullshit good loser manners my dad was always trying to teach me. I stare down at the traffic as I try and come to terms with my current reality.

  A little while later Ash and Kate come out of the bedroom and I turn to watch them. Ashleigh is wearing a t-shirt of mine. This one says When hell freezes over, I’ll ski there too. That makes me smile because it totally fits her. She’s just flipping a big fuck you to the world. And then I notice Kate’s wearing a pretty orange dress and she has matching bows in her hair.

  I wonder if Ash dressed her up because she’s gonna go see her dad today? It’s ridiculous to be jealous, I realize this. I bought her the fucking dress. I might not’ve picked it out, but I fucking paid for it. She’s wearing a dress I gave her.

  But it’s not enough. I need more. It’s painful to think of losing these two. Especially so soon after the whole falling out with Rook. “Don’t pack, Ashleigh,” I call to her as I go back in. “The staff is going to box it all up and deliver it to LA tomorrow. Just take what you need for today.”

  I figure this will give me one more chance to see them if she walks away from me this afternoon. But if she suspects my motives, she holds it in. Because she’s already telling Kate the latest news on the Itsy-Bitsy Spider.

  Fuck.

  I can’t do this. I can’t just give up with her like I did Rook.

  Fuck Tony. I let Ronin have Rook because it’s what she really wanted and I’d be the biggest dick in the world if I stole her from him just because I could.

  But fuck Tony. I don’t even know this guy. And yeah, Ash loves him. I respect that. But if he’s not gonna take care of her and Kate, then I don’t have to walk away.

  I have four more hours on the road with her. Probably five with traffic. I go back to our bedroom and grab some jeans and a t-shirt Ashleigh packed for me from the Vail house. I laugh when I read this one. Fucking Ash. It says Jedi in the streets, Sith in the sheets. I don’t even remember owning this shirt.

  After I’m cleaned up and dressed I go back to the living room and Ashleigh is all ready, sitting on the couch waiting for me. I grab my keys and wallet and Ashleigh stuffs some pastries in her diaper bag and hoists it over her shoulder with Kate in her other arm. “Here,” I say, grabbing the bag. “I got it.”

  “Thanks,” she says, giving me a look as we leave the room and walk down the hall. “What’s up with you, anyway?”

  I pretend I don’t hear her and just punch the button for the elevator. Luckily there’s one waiting and the doors open up immediately so we are momentarily distracted by the process of getting ourselves inside.

  The doors close and she’s staring at me. “Ford.”

  “Yes,” I say as I stare at my phone and pretend to text someone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I look up and smile. “Business, Ashleigh. Sorry. I have a meeting this afternoon that I should try and make. So I’m thinking about that. They’ve been planning production schedules all week without me. I’m playing catch up.”

  Ronin would be proud.

  “Oh,” she says, like that was not the answer she was expecting. I’m not sure what she was expecting, but I’m not in the mood to talk about it just yet. I’m not avoiding the topic of Tony, but why end this trip before we have to? We’ll be in LA soon enough and I’m pretty sure Tony is the only topic on the table when we get there.

  The elevator doors open and we walk out to the valet area. The Bronco has been washed. Actually, I’d call it detailed because it smells like Guy on a Hot Date and the tires are gleaming in the sun from an Armor All application.

  Ashleigh buckles Kate in the back and then jumps up front with me. “If we’re lucky, she’ll sleep the whole way.”

  “I could use some luck, so here’s hoping.”

  She lets out a long breath and settles into her seat. I pull out and make our way to the 15 freeway that will take us all the way to the 10 in LA. It’s warm out but not hot. The Bronco likes the extreme heat just about as much as it enjoys the extreme cold. So luckily, Vegas in January is mostly mild. As soon as we clear the city limits and are heading west, Ashleigh kicks her feet up, lowers her seat, and closes her eyes.

  “You just woke up, how can you be tired already?”

  “Ford,” she says as she lowers the sunglasses the hotel gave us yesterday. “I’m a new mom. With anyone but you, I’d choose sleep over sex any day of the week, that’s how fucking fantastic it feels to close my eyes and forget about life.” I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t want her to see my smile, so I keep focused on the road. “And I do not want to hear about my swearing today. Yesterday you called the shots so today it’s my turn.”

  “Should we play a game to see who calls the shots?”

  She slides her glasses back into position and sighs. “Me. I call the shots.”

  “You cheat, Miss Li. You only play until you win, then you back out.”

  “I’m too tired to entertain you today, Ford. I think you should entertain me.”

  I get a wicked grin.

  “With my clothes on,” she amends.

  “I’m a master of entertaining. However, you still owe me something.”

  She snorts. “Like what?”

  “My favor. You promised to tell me about school.”

  “Oh,” she says with more relief than might be necessary. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want to know?”

  “What kind of program, to start.” She laughs, then covers her mouth and when I look over she’s blushing. “What?” I ask, laughing with her. “You’re getting a master’s degree in porn or something? Why are you blushing?”

  “No, it’s just kinda funny.”

  I wait for it.

  “I’m a psychologist. Well, I will be if I ever finish grad school and pass my licensing exam.”

  Psychologist. I should not be surprised—she was reading my mind back in Vail just like I was reading hers. “Will you? Finish the program?”

  She slides her sunglasses down her nose again. “No. I never wanted to be a stupid psychologist. But I had to pick something, and that was as good a major as any and it was all paid for out of my trust. It was a way to get money. A way to survive and become educated at the same time. Plus, it pacified my father when I left home.”

  “He needed pacifying. Why?”

  She’s silent for this one. For a long time, like more than a minute. When she finally speaks her speech has an edge to it. “You know that story about the boy who drew cats? Well, that’s me. I draw cats. But no one wanted to let me draw cats and I never had the good fortune of having my cat drawings come to life to save a shitload of people to prove I’m worthwhile, so I had to do something else.”

  “So what do you really do? When you draw cats?”

  “It’s stupid.” She turns her head to the window and watches the desert for a little while. I let her, because I’m not starting an argument on this ride. I’m deflecting. I’m in denial. I’m postponing. I’m stalling.

  “You’re super smart, Ford. I mean—Eagle Scout? Those equations in your bedroom? The sign language, the Japanese, and probably a lot more shit I have no clue about. I’m not a physics expert or anything, but I’ve taken my share of science classes and those equations were way up ther
e on the genius level. So why did you become a film producer?”

  “I wanted to draw cats, Ashleigh. And my dad didn’t give a fuck what I did in school. He told me to choose something fun. I got offers from every top ten school in the country and quite a few big ones overseas as well. And I went to a public university in my hometown and studied how other people who wanted to draw cats make shit up and put it on film. Because it looked fun.”

  She settles back into her seat and sighs.

  “I get it. I get you, Ashleigh. And you get me. I understand what it means to be misunderstood. So just tell me, what kind of cats do you draw?”

  “Poetry,” she whispers so softly I can barely hear her over the engine and the wind from the open window.

  “Poetry. Do you have some with you that I can read?”

  “No, I left my journal at the hotel because I’m tired of thinking about it. If I read that stuff one more time I might really go insane.” She pauses, but it’s almost an afterthought. Like she was going to say something but changed her mind.

  I wait her out.

  She presses the button for both our windows and rolls them up to quiet things down. “I can tell you one from memory, if you want. They’re not complicated, Ford.”

  She says this like she feels the need to explain herself, and that saddens me. She should not have to explain why she wants to draw cats.

  “I write them simple on purpose. Because my life….” She trails off for a few seconds, then sighs and gives it another shot. “My life is so, so fucked up. It’s twisted and complicated, and filled with shit.” She swallows hard. “Bad shit. But my poems are the opposite of that. When my life is unraveling, and everything about it is slack, my poems are taut. My poems take the fray and wind it back together.”

  “Taut.” I say the word out loud as I scan the desert landscape.

  “They’re short and simple. Not long and complicated and pretty, but very concise and controlled. And honest. I usually take lyrics to songs that I love, choose all the words in that song that stand out, then make up my own poem using those words. That’s how I like to write them. Every word is ordinary. But when I mix the words up and put them together in a new way, that’s what makes the difference. That’s what makes them special. It changes everything.”