Page 43 of Let’s Give ‘Em Pumpkin to Talk About

“So now that the weigh-off is over, you must be itching to get back to California.”

Sadie tilted her head. “I think I was expecting to feel elation at the idea of leaving again.”

“Well, we know better than that now,” Grace said.

Talk about a plan going awry. Love was never the plan. She’d stopped envisioning it for herself, stopped working toward it, and here it was in her lap. Fuck it, I’m doing it.

“What if I stayed and helped you take care of the little hellspawn?”

“You mean Brutus? He’s crate-trained.”

“The baby.”

Grace laughed, too loudly and for too long. “That’s good. You got me there.”

Sadie leaned forward over her plate. “I’m serious, Grace. Babies are notoriously high-maintenance creatures, and yours will no doubt be an enormous pain in everyone’s asses. If Kyle lets you down and our mother is unreliable as per usual, you’ll be glad to have someone in your corner.”

“You’ll probably figure out some strategy to make it grow to record size.”

Sadie raised both hands in a welcoming gesture. “And we will all hail the giant baby lording over Pea Blossom.”

Grace screwed up her face. “Are you serious?”

“Why would I joke?”

Grace took several small bites of her food, chewing thoroughly and dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“You’re in love with Josh, aren’t you? Is that why you don’t want to leave?” Grace asked, a smile curving her scarlet lips.

“It’s not as simple as that.” Her excuses for not staying were dwindling, and her reasons to stay were amassing, one handsome farmer, one pregnant sister at a time. If my father can try hard-boiled eggs, maybe I could try love. Maybe I don’t have to be so set in my ways.

“Schmoopy feelings about babies is a weird look on you.”

“It’s only other people’s babies. The only thing my womb’s gonna grow is cobwebs.”

“I couldn’t pay you,” Grace said.

“I wouldn’t take your money. Thanks to Brynn Bianchini, I’m California successful now, which is Indiana rich. Speaking of, I reserve the right to quit if you make me put baby makeup on the little goober.”

Grace’s grin mirrored her own. “Fine. But you will have to watch your mouth. I don’t want to be the parent that gets the call from the preschool teacher because my kid is calling storytime ‘fucking bullshit.’”

“I’ll try to let Josh’s habits rub off on me. I’ve never heard him curse.”

“What?”

“Mysterious, I know. It’s a wonder he tolerates my mouth.”

“Oh, I bet he loves your mouth.”

“Grace!”

“Please. I’m hormonal and jealous. He’s so fucking hot, in that sneaky, unassuming way.”

He really was. He had insinuated himself into her life, not when he was showy but when he was being himself. It was gross.

“If it all goes south, and I have to leave, I promise I’ll help you with money. I won’t leave you hanging.”

“It won’t go south.”

“Grace, you are about to get divorced. How is it possible you can’t envision a disastrous end for Josh and me?”

“Because you’re not gripping on to it for your life. Because Kyle never once looked at me the way I saw Josh look at you yesterday, like he wanted to, I don’t know, fuck you and then bake you a cake, and then lift you on his shoulders so everyone could see you’re his. All of that.”

He wrote BE MINE on her body. Sadie had not yet accepted his plea. Maybe it was time.

“I haven’t told him I’m thinking of staying.”

“Well, finish your fucking curry and get back to that A-frame. You’re about to get railed within an inch of your life and I want to know absolutely nothing about it, but I’m happy for you.”

For comedic effect, Sadie took a huge bite of the curry she’d barely touched, her stomach aflutter with emotion. She sank her teeth into a big piece of some kind of squash. She would have spat it out, but it was tolerable. With impeccable timing, the server came over to check on them.

“Is there squash in this?” she asked.

“Yes, kabocha. Isn’t it good? We source it locally, from Josh’s Squashes.”

Grace nearly choked on her own bite of food.

“Thanks,” she said meekly. She wasn’t going to agree that it was good, because it didn’t pass that threshold.

Perhaps her whole palate had been readjusted following the Squash 2.

0 disaster, but she wouldn’t eat around these pieces of squash.

She wouldn’t save them for last the way she would her favorite bites, but she would eat them.

It was a step in the right direction. It also helped that she’d ordered the dish extra spicy.

Despite Grace’s encouragement to talk to Josh as soon as possible, she wanted to stay; she and Grace had plenty to talk through. They drank more ginger lemonade and ordered mango coconut sticky rice.

“Back to pregnancy. Should I start looking into midwives for you? Research options on cloth diapering?”

“If that’s you offering to weave me cloth diapers, save yourself the time. Congrats to those brave souls, but we will be using disposable diapers in my household.”

“Oh no!” Sadie cackled at the idea of spending so much time on something that would get so soiled. “I don’t know what I will be weaving next, but it’s not going to be diapers, I assure you.”

“So what will it be? Pumpkin season is over, you’ve got the Indiana winter ahead. What are you weaving?”

She wished she knew. Talking through it rather than spiraling over it was the new strategy. “I still don’t know yet is the short answer. I’m uncovering the reasons behind why I’m artistically stuck.”

“What, did weaving ten square miles of Brynn Bianchini’s skin color not light you up inside?”

“What would I be like if it did?”

“I think it’s the start of a horror movie about an artist who stops at nothing until she’s wearing Brynn Bianchini as a bodycon dress.”

Sadie tilted her head in consideration. “Very Cruella de Vil. Maybe I’m into it.”

Grace put her hands on the table. “We really need to get you a new project to work on.”

“There’s something stirring. I’ve been thinking about trying to reclaim some happy memories, to help crowd out all the bad ones.” She remembered the old photograph in her bag and retrieved it to show Grace.

Grace cooed over Sadie’s grim childhood face, petting it with one finger. “You were the cutest little monster. If my kid is anything like this tiny beast, I’ll be so proud.”

Sadie silently thanked her mother for giving her a sister. One that was so different from her, but the same where it mattered. The decision to go no-contact with the woman was the right one. Their mother had made bonding difficult, but they did it anyway. They would link arms against her chaos.

Grace could point out her shortcomings. But she would also quickly forgive Sadie if she failed to live up to sisterly duties.

“I want to get back to the textiles she was making, but updated. That little girl felt so alone and kept most of her projects to herself.”

Grace gave her big eyes, an expression that asked, And what’s changed?

“I know, I know. I’ve been withdrawn. I’m trying to figure it out. My other projects that tied to happy memories were huge and honestly kind of monotonous.”

“Show me what you mean,” Grace said. “I don’t know shit about art.”

Sadie scrolled her Instagram until she found a good photo of Tumbling Down a Grassy Hill .

The photo was taken from outside the room hosting the installation, but it did a good job of showing the vivid green, slightly streaky as if the fabric was in motion and blurry.

A person stood in the room, bathed in the warm glow of the light diffusing through the fabric.

“This is so cool,” Grace said. “Someday I want to see your work in person.”

Sadie would absolutely make sure that happened.

“It is a great piece. And it evokes a childhood memory so many people can relate to. On top of that, it was super social media–friendly and made me super successful. But I spent months weaving that green fabric alone in my studio. I wasn’t living in that memory while I was weaving.

And it wasn’t like anyone else’s memories were informing my work.

For my art to sustain me, I need to connect to other people while I’m working, not just once it’s out in the world. ”

“So what does that look like?”

“I’m not sure yet. Right now, it looks like playing around with the plants that grow on Stu’s property, just like that little girl did, and seeing what I can make of them after all these years as an artist.”

“That’s a start,” Grace said. “You’ll figure it out.”

“We both will.”

Then she paused, and she and Grace both said, “Ew,” simultaneously.

When Grace finally pushed Sadie out the door, she noticed the community board to the left of it.

Pinned to it was a flyer calling for local artists to submit work to a gallery show.

The flyer was fringed at the bottom with tabs providing a shortened URL for the gallery’s website.

Sadie ripped one and pocketed it before hopping back on her bike.