Page 11 of Love Is a War Song

I had no idea “we start early” included me .

It was still dark outside when I was ripped from my sleep with the overhead light glaring into my eyes and a stern “Get up” from Lottie.

“What time is it?” I asked, barely able to hide my irritation at the rude awakening.

“Five thirty. Dress in something you don’t care about getting dirty and meet me downstairs.”

“Why?”

“This is a working ranch, no one stays here for free. C’mon, get movin’. You have ten minutes.” She swooped out of the room as fast as she had entered, slamming the door after her.

Ten minutes? I knew I should have showered last night, but I was so tired and wrung out from the levels of anxiety and sadness I just passed out. I barely managed to take my pants off before crawling into bed.

I got up, put on the same jeans I had worn to dinner last night, shoved my feet into the Golden Goose sneakers, and yawned my way downstairs, stomach growling.

The house was dark, but I followed the dim light coming from the kitchen. Coffee was brewing and there was a pot of oatmeal on the stove. Lottie was fixing herself a bowl when she noticed me.

“Eat up and make sure you’re good and full. Lunch is a ways away and we got a lot to do until then.”

There was a stack of bowls next to the stove and I ladled myself a big helping.

There was sugar and cinnamon on the counter, and I sprinkled a little bit in.

Back home, I limited my sugar intake and counted my calories.

I had to. Any unflattering image of me slouching would result in people posting zoomed-in photos all over the internet and calling me a pig.

When I switched up birth controls to the shot and I first gained some weight as a result, it became public discourse.

The digital footprint of my life would take up pages and pages on Google, but the physical space I was allowed to occupy could be no bigger than a size two.

It never stopped hurting to see that said about yourself.

Even though these offensive comments always trickled in, there were many who defended me, but it was hard to focus on those when the internet trolls were the loudest. Weight loss and fitness brands capitalized on all the tabloid stories and reached out to me and my mom for partnerships.

It wasn’t ideal, but the money was nice.

That extra income paid my mortgage, but I resented all the gummy sugar-free vitamins and detox powders.

They were all means to an end and that end was freedom.

Just remembering the nasty aftertaste of stevia in my coffee made me add another spoonful of the white sugarcane granules. After the last twenty-four hours I had, I thought I deserved it.

Lottie took her coffee and oatmeal into the dining room. I had no choice but to follow, sitting in the same seat as the night before.

Lottie put on a pair of reading glasses and shook out a magazine and started reading. I didn’t want to interrupt her morning routine, but I very much wanted to know what the hell she expected me to do. I wasn’t exactly used to manual labor.

I blew on my oatmeal and took a bite. It was heaven, warm and creamy, rich with butter, and so sweet. I loved it. I didn’t think I could go back to date sugar again.

“?‘Avery Fox, twenty-three, pictured below in stills from her latest music video, has shocked the internet and the world with her latest stunt on the cover of Rolling Stone .’?” Lottie’s voice broke the silence, reading aloud from her tabloid.

I dropped my spoon into the dish, my mouth hung open, shocked that she would own a tabloid and read it out loud in front of me.

She continued, “?‘Once she charmed children and their parents starring in hit Disney movies like A Midsummer Night’s Dream: The Musical , but recently she has followed the path of Miley Cyrus and many other child stars. “She is breaking the good-girl image with overly sexualized outfits and music. I don’t want my kids seeing her and thinking that growing up means dressing provocatively,” said one concerned parent who spoke to us.

It is making some lawmakers debate whether there should be legislation in place to protect children from acting in Hollywood—’?”

“Okay, I got it.” I cut her off. I couldn’t bear listening to this same trash coming out of the mouth of a woman who was supposed to love me.

Maybe there was no inherent love on the primal, DNA level, but maybe she could grow to like me.

Or at least try to get to know the real me and not what these tabloids projected me to be.

“It should be comforting to know your embarrassing stunt is inspiring real change within that depraved industry. Hopefully no other children are forced to do what you did and then turn out like you, parading around in a loincloth.” She angrily spooned oatmeal into her mouth.

This experience of public disgrace had taught me the many levels of hurt and embarrassment I could feel. But nothing could prepare me for the condemnation from my grandmother. My eyes turned glassy, but the hurt gave way to anger. She didn’t know me and I sure as hell didn’t know her.

“I have never worn a ‘loincloth.’ If my career is so disgusting to you, then why did you agree to let me stay here?”

“Because we’re family. Despite what your mother thinks or says, we take care of our own. I think you could use some structure with a positive influence so you don’t feel the need to shake your bare ass on television.” Lottie threw the tabloid down onto the table in disgust.

Family? Now we were family? The woman had said like five sentences to me in our entire acquaintance and now we were “family” and she felt she could judge, condemn, and lecture me?

Or provide me “structure” as if I were a toddler with some minor behavior issues and I just needed more control?

Control was how I got into this mess. No one could possibly understand that.

Not when it was far easier to judge from a distance.

“Lottie, respectfully, you’re wrong. I have never shaken my bare ass on television.

I have worked hard all my life. You may not agree with how I was raised or what I do for work, but I will not sit here and subject myself to ridicule and scorn from a woman who never so much as sent me a birthday card. ”

“I see you have your mother’s bite to you. I would suggest you don’t speak on things you know nothing about.”

I pushed my oatmeal away, my appetite lost to anger.

“I know nothing because neither you nor my mother tells me anything. All I knew growing up was that my mother’s family was far away and we didn’t talk to them.

It has been me and my mom my whole life.

I don’t even know who my father is. My mom did the best she could, and I am happy I could provide a steady income for us. ”

It was steady while I had work. During the dry seasons where I wouldn’t get cast in anything or a pilot I filmed was never picked up, it was really hard. But there was no way the woman sitting next to me could wrap her brain around it. Not now at least, if ever.

I was starting to see why my mother never talked about her.

“You were a baby, a child, a teenager. You were never allowed to be that. You should never have had to work to provide for you and your mother in the most expensive state to live in. That is too much to put on a kid.” Lottie’s voice was softer than I had heard it before.

She sat back in her dining chair, bringing her finger to her temple and rubbing it in a circle.

Her eyes had a faraway look to them and it was like her finger was a drill to the side of her head, almost as if she was trying to rub away the headache and the memories.

It was exactly what my mother did when she thought no one was looking.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and my mom. I don’t know anything about this place or family. Do I have a grandfather? I was hoping I could learn about all of it, connect, and be a family. If it’s too much, then I’ll just go.”

“Where?” She dropped her hand and looked at me.

“The first phone call I received from your mother in twenty years, she says your life is in danger and you need to stay away from the public eye. This was the first time since she left that she ever asked me for help. So, as hard as it is for me to wrap my head around all that you do, I am not going to turn you out.”

“Thank you,” I said for the millionth time. She offended me greatly, but I was still in her debt.

“Stop thanking me. The boys are gonna roll up in here in a few minutes to eat and then we are going to put you to work.”

“I don’t know anything about horses. I don’t even know if I like horses!” I said.

“Of course you like horses. It’s in your blood.”

“In my blood? Is that the Native part of my blood that the public is convinced I don’t have?”

She rolled her eyes. “Outsiders don’t know anything. You want to get enrolled, we can get you enrolled, but it won’t be today. You want a roof over your head and food in your belly? Then you gotta work.”

I perked up. I could get enrolled? This entire public cancellation could get resolved and I could go back to LA.

Maybe I could even help Lottie in return.

My mind started spinning, dreaming up all the possibilities to solve all our problems. “I saw the guy from the bank leaving yesterday and the notices by the door. If you need help, I’ll gladly pay off the mortgage or whatever else you need.

My purse was stolen yesterday, but I can call my mom and we can get it handled in a day. ”

Again, I had said the wrong thing.

Storm clouds gathered in her golden eyes. “I will not touch your money, and I don’t want you telling your mother about what you saw yesterday. Got it?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to help.” I looked down at my hands. I couldn’t say or do anything right in this woman’s company. I felt like a stranger in my own skin sitting next to her, questioning everything about myself.

“You’ll help by mucking the paddock and then helping prepare the meals. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Lottie arched her brow at me in a pointed look.

“Ma’am?” My voice hitched up in a question.

She nodded. “Now eat your food.”

Her attention was thankfully taken away from me and the tabloid by the men coming in for breakfast. I barely even noticed Lucas, who was holding his cowboy hat in his hand and wearing a navy T-shirt and black jeans.

If he looked at me, I didn’t notice as I forced myself to finish every last bite of the now cold and congealed sweet porridge, because it couldn’t be worse than learning to muck a paddock. What even was that?