Page 35 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eloise

Reasons Fall Is the Perfect Time to Get Your Wisdom Teeth Removed (Technically There Is No Perfect Time, But Fall Is As Good As It Gets)

– Soup season

– Perfect timing to rewatch Gilmore Girls

– Furry blankets, cozy cardigans, and thick sweaters are already unpacked

– Darker mornings make sleeping in easier

– Applesauce is fresh

After seeing our stand-off at the farmers’ market, Mom sends me up to the Parkers’ to borrow some eggs.

I have to hand it to her, she’s strategic.

She sends me early in the morning, claiming our hens didn’t lay enough and she had promised her friend Peggy she would bake her muffins after her knee surgery.

Dad rolls his eyes at me across the table—Emily Chickenson always lays more than enough eggs.

When I suggest that Dad go Mom stares daggers at me for so long that I simply slink upstairs to change.

Arguing with her isn’t worth it. She is insistent on Nick and I ‘patching things up.’

I knock on their door, fidgeting on the doorstep. Mrs. Parker lets me in, ushering me into the kitchen. Only Joe at the table. I try not to look too hard at the steaming cup of coffee and half a piece of toast at the abandoned third place setting.

I find my anger is quite an effective way for me to stop missing him.

I can’t seem to stop being mad he went to karaoke with Amie.

I don’t care how loud he sang. I don’t care if I told her to ask him out.

He went out with her in public and I know it was to get to me, which is completely inappropriate on a lot of levels.

The sun is high in the afternoon sky as I stare in the Parkers’ direction, squinting to see if I can make out who is in the small group of people thinning the apples at the western edge of their farm. Dad shuffles up behind me. He’s been checking on me more often lately.

‘How you doing, champ?’ He claps me on the shoulder.

I blink. ‘Fine,’ I lie. I look back towards the Parkers’ before I return to work. Screw that guy. If only I could forget that he exists.

My plan to bring a baby goat to our next farmers’ market is derailed by emergency surgery to remove one of my wisdom teeth.

My jaw had been getting increasingly sore for the past week, something I attributed to grinding my teeth at night, a habit I’ve had in the past when stressed.

But I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday to worse pain and reluctantly called the dentist, who was able to squeeze me in the next day.

The surgery was seamless except for the fact that I kept asking the nurse to remember to take a video of me for Evan and Shari, who let me know very sternly that while they wished for my speedy recovery, they also wished for a video of me on pain medication.

Fortunately, I completely blacked out on the way home (during which I recorded said video) and slept on and off, in a complete haze, for an entire day.

My memory returns the next day just in time for me to be roused from bed by the smell of Mom’s cooking, which wafts upstairs and pleasantly tickles my nostrils. Thankfully it’s cold enough for soup.

I’m rounding the corner into the kitchen when I almost run smack into my dad, who grumbles a panicked hello on his way out the door.

‘Cal!’ my mother shouts from her seat at the kitchen table. She rises from her seat, bustling towards me with both hands outstretched. ‘Are you OK? You’re really supposed to be protecting your mouth you know.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I know, Mom. I wasn’t trying to run into Dad.

’ I pause mid-step, freezing in place before I can reach the table.

My voice sounds garbled and slow, almost like I’ve been drinking but I know I haven’t.

And a weird dream keeps tugging at the sides of my brain.

I sink into a kitchen chair and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember what I was dreaming about.

Bits and pieces of it flash behind my eyelids, being at the Parkers’, seeing Nick, watching a movie . .?.

My mom places a glass of salt water in front of me. ‘Drink up,’ she says gently.

I groan. ‘I had the weirdest dream,’ I say.

‘Medication will do that to you,’ Mom soothes, patting my back. ‘Are you feeling up for some soup?’

I try to smile gratefully at her and end up wincing with pain. She tuts at me, ladling soup into a bowl.

‘Want to play a round of cards when your dad gets home?’ she asks as soon as I’ve finished.

I stretch my arms over my head, nodding. ‘That sounds really nice, Mom. I’ll walk and see JJ for a bit before dinner then.’

Mom nods with approval and I make my way out into the cold sunshine, a heavy sweater on and a cup of applesauce for JJ—he loves it as much as he loves unripe apples.

‘Hey, boy,’ I greet him. I take extra care brushing his coat today, moving slowly as I let him out. I watch him prance around the paddock, so full of energy now that his leg has healed. ‘I need to be out here with you more, huh?’ I ask him. He nickers in reply.

‘I’ll find you a good home,’ I say to him, soft enough that he can’t hear. I leave the rest of my sentence unsaid— I’m not ready to part with you yet.

Four hours later and we’re gathered around the kitchen table, hunched over a card game. Linden calls while we’re playing. ‘Honey, you’re on speaker,’ Mom announces. ‘I’ve got Dad and Lou here with me.’

Dad and I both laugh, Mom always answers the phone like she’s a newscaster. ‘Lou,’ Linden says, ‘I was calling to see how you were doing.’

‘Oh, um, I’m good,’ I say. Linden and I haven’t talked in a while, he must have heard about the surgery from Mom. My heart squeezes a bit that he took the time to call. He chatters on with Mom and Dad about what they’re excited for about U-Pick.

‘Lou, will you hand out any more of those seedling kits?’

‘How do you know about—?’ I stop myself short, of course Mom told him. ‘I have my hands full with some other plans,’ I admit.

‘Other plans,’ Linden laughs, ‘sounds like I’ll have to call you myself to find out about those.’

‘I’d like that,’ I reply, avoiding Mom’s gaze.

I can’t bear to see her so happy that Linden and I have made plans to call each other—all she wants us to do is stop arguing about the farm.

Sometimes I feel like it’s all I have to hold on to, that I’m the better daughter, and some days, like today, I miss my older brother and I’m tired of holding a grudge.

Linden tells us about his new girlfriend, during which Mom mutes the phone and admits she thinks that’s the reason he’s been better about calling.

‘Not that I’m complaining,’ she’s quick to add.

By the time we hang up, our enthusiasm for the game has waned. We all miss our fourth player.