Page 19 of Love Is a War Song

I stacked four boxes at the bottom of the attic stairway before I ventured to the spare rooms. I chose the one closest to the attic and it was another time capsule.

I had found what I was sure was my mother’s old room.

It was the room of a teenager. The walls were covered in boy band posters and the vanity had Polaroids tucked in between the mirror and the wooden frame.

The photos were of my mother as a young teen with her friends.

She looked so happy and carefree—far from the woman I had known my whole life.

In one photo, she was wearing a costume with a feather boa, clearly in some sort of play.

Another was of her sitting on the floor with a friend, wearing makeup with too much glitter. It was cute.

One picture stood out, because it had hearts drawn all over it.

It was a photo of her with a boy. He looked maybe a year or two older than her and she had to have been about sixteen in the photo.

He was wearing a brown cowboy hat and a blue-checkered shirt.

He had light blue eyes and dimples on either side of his smile.

My mother was kissing his cheek. I looked away; it felt like I was invading her privacy.

She had a whole life and family before me.

It didn’t look easy, as I’m sure Lottie made my mother do many chores, but it looked a lot easier than how we lived in California for years.

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.

Her decision to leave must have been due to something truly devastating and horrible.

Lottie clearly loved my mom very much—she hadn’t changed a single thing in her room; it was exactly how my mother left it.

Something happened to sunder this relationship and I had to know what.

I’d been here only a few days and I wasn’t sure I was really adequately prepared for what it could be.

I moved the boxes into my mother’s old room one by one, clearing a large path in the attic to begin the real work once I had the computer and camera from Lucas. The clock clucked again and it was time for me to start getting lunch together.

···

“Fried rice?” Lucas lifted the glass lid off the ginormous skillet I had used to cook it all up.

It was an improvised version of fried rice that I would be embarrassed to serve to anyone in Los Angeles, but out here, what did they care?

I used a bag of frozen veggies and some of the frozen chicken.

The only Asian seasoning in the house was a bottle of Kikkoman soy sauce that looked older than me—the twist top was crystalized. But I made do.

“Mmm hmm. And it tastes good! I checked.” I gave him my most winning smile. After the breakfast fiasco, I was quite impressed with my lunch dish and proud that my skills were improving so quickly.

Lucas set the lid down onto the empty burner and filled his bowl with heaping spoonfuls of the dish. He ducked his head, letting his long hair hide his face, but I saw it—the crooked smile.

I looked down at the ground, trying to hide mine now too, and stepped out of the way so the others could get some. I wanted them all good and full before I served myself. I had been snacking as I cooked.

We settled at the table, all in our appointed seats, and it felt almost like I was a part of the team.

I couldn’t yet say family , but I did feel like the routine was starting to set in.

The meals brought us together and while simple fare, it was the best I’d had in a while, maybe ever.

I worked hard to make the food that would sustain us, and it was tasty.

It was like I gave a little of myself and my love to show that I cared for this place and these people.

I couldn’t help but wonder if once I was enrolled with the tribe, I would feel more like I belonged.

“Hey, you’re doing better already. This was good! You should make it again,” Red said with a smile, a piece of rice stuck to the end of his mustache.

“Sure thing, we just gotta go to the store, because I used up everything.” Really. After wasting most of the ingredients from breakfast and clearing out the freezer, we had nothing left except for some bread and cheese singles. I guess I could make some grilled cheese for dinner.

“Tomorrow’s payday, so we can take you into town to stock up, right, Lottie?” Red asked.

“I need the truck to drive down to Bessie’s tomorrow. She’s had pneumonia for two weeks and just got back from the hospital. The ladies at the church and I are all taking turns cooking her meals, visiting, and doing some light chores.”

“Poor Bessie. I’m glad she’s doing better. Maybe you could take the truck this afternoon then to stock up?” Red suggested to me.

“I don’t mind going to the store. Who’s Bessie?” I asked, because no one ever offered the slightest of explanations or introductions so that I could follow along with anything being said.

“One of our elders and a staple in the community. She makes handwoven belts for just about everyone. Even after the arthritis gnarled her fingers, she still just kept weaving. Can’t keep yarn from her.” Davey chuckled as he took another bite of the fried rice.

“I can go with you tomorrow and help. If you want…?” I offered to Lottie.

“That’s nice of you. I’d be happy to have the help.” With a small smile, Lottie dug into her meal.

“Awesome. This is great, because I found a bin full of yarn in the attic and we can give it to her if she loves yarn that much.”

“Excellent idea,” Lottie said with a larger smile.

“I can go into town to get groceries. I’ll need a ride and some money, since my stuff was stolen…and you won’t let me ask my mom to send money.” I raised my eyebrow, because I still thought it was ridiculous. I had money. Lottie needed money. She was family. It seemed simple.

“I can take you into town after lunch. We don’t need your money.” Lottie stood with her dish, conversation over. I sighed in defeat.

“Lucas,” I said to get his attention. He turned to look at me; again our elbows and knees were only inches apart as we sat next to each other. “Lottie said I need to get the computer and camera from you for the attic project.”

“Yeah, you can grab them from me later,” he said through a mouthful of food.

After lunch, I waited by the door for Lottie. She was rushing, gathering her things to leave, but then the phone rang.

“Oh drat, I was expecting a call. I need to get that.” Lottie disappeared around the corner and I heard her loud Hello to whoever was on the other end.

“No, Keith, this place isn’t ready for a showing yet.”

That piqued my interest and I shuffled closer to the hall to listen more.

“Well, can you push it off another week or two?” She paused, letting Keith speak. “I understand that, but I need all the help I can get.”

Her heavy boots started clomping down the hall and toward me. I scuttled back to the door, pretending like I was picking my nails and not eavesdropping.

“Catch.” Lottie threw me the keys while she held the phone receiver between her ear and shoulder.

She took out a wad of cash from her pocket, licked her fingers, and then counted out several bills before handing them to me.

“This is gonna be a while. See if one of the guys can show you where to go.”

She turned before I could say anything. I pocketed the money and stared down at the assortment of silver keys, never seeing so many on a single ring before.

My palms started to sweat, and it wasn’t because I’d stepped outside and was assaulted by the heat and humidity.

I hated driving; I had no idea what possessed me to offer to do this.

I had a driver’s license, got it when I was sixteen, and that was the last time I sat behind the wheel.

The traffic in Los Angeles was a nightmare; while driving home from the exam, I got stuck on the 405 because of construction and then— BAM —someone rammed right into me.

Since then, I usually had someone driving me places.

It worked out so I could put makeup on en route to events or prepare for auditions.

Since I retired from acting, I have been using that time to work on my music.

I didn’t feel comfortable driving a big truck like Lucas’s or even the golf cart. I didn’t know a thing about these roads or where the store was. How was I supposed to figure this out without a maps app to help me?

“You okay there, Miss Avery?” Red was walking by, a rake resting over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Just trying to figure out which key is for the golf cart.”

“It’s not on the ring. Lottie leaves the key in the ignition.”

“What? What if bandits come and drive off with it?”

He laughed, a big belly laugh. Maybe I was in the wrong career.

With the way I made these folks laugh, I should switch over to comedy.

I’d hoped with the success of my single, Lorne Michaels would have invited me to host and perform on SNL one day.

That wasn’t in the cards anymore. I shook off the negative thoughts.

They wouldn’t help me with the task at hand, which was overcoming my fear of driving.

“This is a stand-your-ground state. Ain’t nobody gonna traipse up here with Lottie totin’ her guns left and right.”

“I thought y’all locked those up.”

“Look at you sayin’ ‘y’all’ like a real Okie girl.” I beamed at his praise. He took a step forward, leaning conspiratorially, and whispered, “Lottie has more spare guns that even I don’t know about.”

“That’s not reassuring at all. I don’t want to happen across any of these wayward guns. What if one goes off?”

“She leaves the safety on, don’t worry.”

“I’d feel safer without guns lying around.”

“You say that now, until one day you need a gun-totin’ grandma to scare off a bad boyfriend.”

“You must think I have bad taste in men.” I rolled my eyes.