Page 38 of The Surprise
I roll my eyes. “But, like, I am. I work, I sleep, I eat.” I take a big, mostly-ant-free bite of my second sandwich. “See?”
“And are you happy?”
I think about it, since she seems to really be asking, not as a courtesy. “I’m not sure I was happy back in Houston. After Dad died, when I wasn’t watching the kids or taking them somewhere, I went four-wheeling with my friends almost every weekend, and I watched television, and I worked out, and I didn’t really think about my dad being gone.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad, other than the ‘dad being gone’ part.”
I guess she’s right. “I mean, the thing is, I had an amazing dad. Not everyone can say that, but mine was. . .he was as good as my mom. I mean that as a really big compliment.”
Beth doesn’t say anything. She just licks the frosting off her finger and watches me, expectantly.
It stresses me out, talking about Dad, and I haven’t really done it, not since Mom stopped making me go to that therapist. “So thinking about him being gone, well, it made me sad. I guess that made me just stop thinking about him at all. So that’s why I did all the other stuff.”
Beth cringes.
“I know. It’s not the best solution, but it worked. I wasn’t like, depressed, or anything. Only, every time I tried to think about college, I’d think about him, and. . .” I frown. “I wonder if that’s why Mom was so worried about me not going. I bet she thought it was something like this. College made me think about Dad, and that made me sad, and so I didn’t want to deal with it.”
“Your mom sounds smart.”
I shake my head. “I mean, she is smart, but that’s not why I didn’t want to go. I never wanted to go, even before. My dad knew that, but my mom didn’t. And when I heard about this ranch, something inside of me wanted todie,thinking that some random people might get the ranch where my dad spent his summers, where my grandpa grew up.”
“Your dad would have hated losing it too, probably.”
“I’m not sure. See, my dad really only cared about one thing, other than us.”
Beth lifts her eyebrows.
“My mom. We never came back here, because she was a city girl, through and through. It never occurred to him she might like it here, so I think he’d have been fine with not having the ranch if he thought it would keep her happy.” I stuff the end of the ham sandwich in my mouth, and then I realize there’s a chunk of twig in it, and I fish that out.
Beth’s laughing when I chuck it on the ground. “You’re kinda gross.”
“Hey, it’s your fault for running that deer through here.”
“I spooked it, and it scared me too,” she says. “Do you think I’m some kind of deer whisperer?”
I laugh. “Probably not. You look almost as city as my mom.”
“I’m offended,” Beth says. “I can rope a calf like any decent Manila native.”
“Can you really?” I cannot imagine her, with her gracefully sloping arms, and her carefully combed hair, and her strappy sandals, roping anything, much less a muddy, recalcitrant calf.
“Of course. My dad’s a rancher. Geez.”
I shake myself a bit. “That’s a new side of Beth I’d really like to see.”
She giggles.
This is going better than I expected. “You asked if I’m happy. I have been happier here than I was back in Houston, and right now? I’m the happiest I’ve been since losing Dad.”
Her face shuts down like an inn that’s closed for business.
“Whoa, what was wrong about that?”
She shakes her head.
“Listen, I know I’m coming on strong, but I like you.”
“I’m not super smart,” she says. “And I’m not tough like your mom. No one would call me super, not even my own mother. And my dad really is a jerk, just like I said, and—”
