Authors: Marisa Logan
“It's a shame it can't be fixed,” Tom said, looking over the parts. “I'm an engineer, and I hate seeing a fine piece of machinery like this sitting out gathering dust.”
“Could you fix it, Dad?” TJ asked.
Tom chuckled and shook his head. “No, I'm afraid not. Clockwork from the 1800s is a lot different than the machinery for plastic production.” He looked to me and added, “I work for a company that makes plastic goods. Everything from plastic forks to children's toys to ball point pens.”
“Sounds interesting,” I said.
“When something breaks down, it sure is.” He laughed, patting the clock. “I hope it gets fixed one day.”
“Me too,” I said. I'd spent a lot of time up here on my breaks, sketching parts of the clock. I used it as a lot of the inspiration for my paintings. I even had a habit of painting old, broken-down things, like the clockwork doll I was working on painting at home. There was something beautifully sad about such a lovely thing being reduced to nothing more than a pile of dusty parts.
I let TJ explore the clock parts for a bit longer, until his dad said it was getting late. I knew they had a long drive to get back home.
As I led them back downstairs, Tom said, “Thank you for this. It was really nice of you to go out of your way for us.”
“I was happy to,” I said. “And I'm glad you guys came back down here. Hopefully we'll see you again sometime.”
“That would be nice,” Tom said. We paused at the bottom of the stairs. My eyes met Tom's, and for a moment I thought that, yes, it really would be nice to see him again. I'd really enjoyed his company, more than I had expected to.
He held my eyes for a moment, and for a second I thought he was about to say something. But the moment passed, and he continued down the stairs and out into the lobby. “All right, champ,” Tom said, patting his son's back. We can hit the gift shop, then it's time to head home.”
“All right,” TJ said. He waved to me. “Bye, Amy. I had fun.”
“Me too,” I said, waving back.
They headed off to the gift shop. I watched them go, trying to think of something else to say. Before I could think of anything, my thoughts were interrupted when John came looking for me, telling me there was a mess he needed help cleaning up. Apparently, some kid had thrown up in the bathroom.
“Dear God,” I muttered, following him to the janitorial closet. “We can't even afford to hire another janitor. The clock's never going to get fixed.”
“Clock?” John asked, handing me a mop. “You mean the old one upstairs? Are we getting it fixed?”
“No,” I said. I sighed and grabbed a bottle of bleach. “Just a dream of mine.”
We headed off to clean the bathroom, while I thought about how some days, this job really wasn't the career I'd dreamed of when I set out to become a curator.
Just before I entered the bathroom, though, I saw TJ once more, leaving the gift shop with a model train set in his arms. He shifted the box under one arm and waved at me. Tom waved as well.
I held the mop under one arm and waved back, reminding myself that some days, there were moments that reminded me why this really
was
my dream job.
Chapter 4
I had my mother on speakerphone while I worked on packing up everything I needed the morning before the family picnic. She'd been listing a dozen different things that I needed to bring, and I was struggling to keep up. As a result, I had a suitcase, an Igloo cooler, and my art supplies box all opened up at once, each only half-packed and nowhere near ready to go.
“Don't forget to pack your special cider,” Mom said, her voice a bit staticy coming through the speakerphone. “Last year there wasn't enough, and your Uncle Phil just about threw a fit.”
“I know, Mom.” I stuffed several bottles of hard cider into the cooler. Living smack in the middle of Amish country meant I was surrounded by Pennsylvania's famous apple orchards. Bringing plenty of hard cider to the family party was my second job, after making the banner.
“And how does the banner look?” Mom asked. “Text me a picture. I can't wait to see it.”
I held the long strip of white cloth in my hands, looking at the incomplete designs painted across it. I'd only finished outlining the letters that stretched across the banner, spelling out “Loch Annual Easter Extravaganza.” I still hadn't colored the letters in or added any other pictures or designs to it.
“It's...too big to fit in a picture,” I said, folding up the banner and tucking it into my suitcase. “Look, Mom, I've really got to finish packing.”
“If you would learn to get more organized,” she said, “you could have had all of this done last night.”
I sighed. “I know, Mom. I know. But I've got to go.”
I hung up the phone as Mom was saying, “Oh! And make sure you don't forg—”
I was determined not to care what else she was reminding me about. I hurried to finish packing, stuffing most of my clothes into the suitcase without bothering to fold them. It was only a three-day trip. Most of today would be spent at Mom's house with a dozen or so of my relatives, cooking and prepping for the picnic. Tomorrow we'd spend all day at the park, eating and drinking and catching up. Then since the museum was closed Monday anyway, I'd stay the extra night so I wouldn't have to deal with driving home Sunday night after a long day of drinking.
I shoved two extra bottles of hard cider into my suitcase. The cooler was full, but I knew I was going to need something extra to get through a weekend with my family.
“Sometimes I don't know why I bother with all of this,” I muttered to myself as I gathered up my things and headed down to the car. Spending time with my family was sometimes more of a hassle than I thought it was worth. But, they were my family. Even the ones I didn't like very much.
The drive back home was uneventful. I sat in traffic for about forty-five minutes on a two mile stretch of the highway, leaving me grumpy. I did ninety the rest of the trip trying to make up the lost time, and barely avoided being pulled over when I spotted a cop. I slowed down just enough to let another car pass me, and the cop went after him instead.
By the time I got to Mom's house, half a dozen cars were already lined up along the curb in front of the house. On top of that, a lot of our neighbors had family over as well, leaving me with no parking on the entire block. I ended up having to park the next block over. I lugged my things up the block, balancing my cooler and my art kit in my arms and dragging the suitcase by its nylon strap as it rolled on its wheels behind me.
I was greeted by a chorus of a dozen relatives shouting “Hi!” as I dragged by bags inside. I made the requisite round of hugs, greeting relatives I hadn't seen since Christmas, or in a few cases since Thanksgiving. I got a brief introduction to my brother's new girlfriend, though my mom and my aunts were so busy peppering her with questions that we didn't get much time to chat.
I wrangled my cousin Kimmy into helping me carry my things up to my room. Mom had still kept all of our bedrooms the way they were, even after me and my brother and sister had been living on our own for years. It was nice sometimes to be able to sleep back in my childhood bedroom, though each year the bed seemed a little smaller and the room a little more cramped.
I deposited my bags in a corner and sat down on the bed, leaning back on my arms. Kimmy sat on the cooler. Her hair was dyed pastel pink for Easter, though she was a natural brunette. And a skinny one, which had always made me jealous.
“So, you ready for the usual interrogations?” she asked, grinning sympathetically at me. We both spent every year being grilled about when we were going to “find a man and settle down.” At least Kimmy had an excuse why she had never found a man: she wasn't even looking for one. Sometimes I wondered if she had the right idea, and if I'd be better off playing for the other team. Men just drove me crazy sometimes.
“Do you think I can still fall back on the 'I'm still hurting after the breakup' excuse?” I asked.
“After two years?” She shook her head. “Sorry, hon, you're going to need to come up with some new material this year.”
“Damn. How about you? Did you bring that friend of yours, what was his name?”
“Chuck,” she said. She shook her head and laughed. “No, actually, Chuck was busy this year. He just got married.”
“Lucky him,” I said. “I hope he found a nice man.” I'd only met Chuck a couple of times, when Kimmy brought him along as her faux-date. He'd seemed nice enough. And he'd been rather hot. If he hadn't been gay, I might have tried to “steal” him from Kimmy.
“Going stag then?” I asked.
“Nah, I actually invited a friend. One of the parents from my daycare.”
Kimmy had long ago decided that even though she loved kids, she would never be able to handle raising any of her own. She worked at a daycare so that she could spend time with kids and watch them grow, while still having the luxury of sending them back to their parents at the end of the day.
“Well, you're safe, then,” I said. “As long as your guy is ready for all of the questions about how 'serious' you are and whether there's wedding bells in your future.”
She laughed. “Yeah, he knows the drill.”
“I, on the other hand,” I said, “am going to get hounded. Mom already started. At least twice a week for the past few weeks.”
“Ouch. Sounds like you'll be needing plenty to drink.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I pointed to my suitcase. “Speaking of which, I come bearing gifts.”
Kimmy opened the suitcase and we opened one of the bottles of hard cider. We spent most of the afternoon tucked away in my room, passing the bottle back and forth while we worked together on painting the banner. Kimmy had never been as much into art as I was, but she did a fine job coloring in the letters while I worked on painting designs around the words. I went with a theme of evil bunnies and zombies this year.
“
Wicked,” Kimmy said as she watched me paint a shambling, green-skinned zombie. “Your mom is going to
hate
that.”
“She should love it!” I said sarcastically. “Jesus came back from the grave. Zombies came back from the grave. Ergo, Zombie Jesus.”
Kimmy laughed, then took another swig of the cider. “Zombie Jesus. I love it.”
We eventually got wrangled down to the kitchen to help cook. The place was crammed with my relatives, and as the night wore on, my mom and my aunts went through quite a few wine coolers. When they started cackling with laughter we knew it was an official family gathering. No party of Lochs could ever go without at least one of my aunts nearly collapsing as she cracked up from some story or another that was being told.
The next day, the whole clan carpooled out to the park for our Easter celebration. The family members staying at my mom's house were just one small part of the gathering. When we got to the park, there were a couple hundred members of the extended family already there. Cousins, aunts, uncles, second cousins, people twice or thrice removed, and more. I didn't even really know a lot of them beyond my immediate cousins, but even in our group there were over fifty of us.
We gathered at the pavilion on top of a low, grassy hill. Picnic tables lined the pavilion, and built-in barbecues stood in a circle at the center. One of my uncles was already heating up the coals while the rest of us unpacked the food and drinks and laid them out on the table. Then two of my younger cousins came over to claim the banner from me and hang it up.
“Here we go,” Kimmy whispered to me while they climbed up on top of the tables to hang the banner from the roof overhead. As the banner unfurled and the zombies came into view, there were laughs from the younger kids, and irritated mutters from some of my older relatives. A couple of people clapped, but all in all it was a mixed reaction at best.
“Maybe they won't ask me to do it again,” I said hopefully.
We dug into the snacks and the hard cider. I sat next to Kimmy and looked around. “So, where's this man of yours?” I asked.
“Lemme check,” she said. She pulled out her phone and sent a couple of texts. A few minutes later, she put her phone away and said, “They're almost here.”
“They?”
“Yeah,” she said. “He's bringing his son.”
“Oh, that'll be great.” I laughed and clapped my hands. “Get ready for Aunt Janet to start peppering you with questions about whether you're ready to become a second mother to the kid.”
I spent some time catching up with my brother and sister, and we chatted about everything that had been going on in our lives over the past few months. My brother's girlfriend mostly kept to herself, spending a lot of time on her phone. At first I thought she was being antisocial, but from the look on her face, I got the feeling she was overwhelmed by the number of people there. My brother told me she came from a small family, so a gathering this large was probably more than she was used to.
I was still chatting with my brother when Kimmy waved to someone as he walked into the pavilion. I looked over and saw a man and his son waving back.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” Kimmy asked.
I stood up and watched them approach, grinning. Tom walked right up to our table, his hand on TJ's shoulder. They stopped dead when they saw me.
“Hey, it's the museum lady!” TJ said.
“Amy,” Tom said, holding his hand out to me. “God, I, wow...I had no idea you'd be here.”
I shook his hand, laughing awkwardly. “Small world, huh?”
“You guys know each other?” Kimmy asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “They came to the museum a few weeks ago. God, I just...wow. You guys! I had no idea you went to Kimmy's daycare.”
“TJ goes there after school,” Tom said, tousling his son's hair. “His mom picks him up after work most days, but I pick him up on Fridays.”
“Go figure,” I said. I gave Kimmy a look, and she studied me with her lips pursed. My face heated up. I cleared my throat. “Well, welcome! It's great to have you guys here.”
We ate and chatted for awhile. TJ found some kids close to his own age, second cousins of mine, and joined them to play some game involving cards with pictures of anime characters on them. I was glad that he wasn't having any trouble making friends here.
When none of my snoopy relatives were around, I leaned close to Kimmy and Tom and asked, “So, does TJ know why you're here? I mean, you're basically a 'beard'.”
Tom laughed and shook his head. “No, God no. I mean, I've talked to him about what it means to be gay, but I don't think he'd quite understand why someone needs...well, needs camouflage.”
“Yeah,” Kimmy said. “I mean, it's not so bad on Dad's side of the family. But Mom's side is, well, let's just say most of them vote Republican and leave it at that.”
“Though the other side has its flaws, too,” I added. “Let us not forget the fiasco when Chris joined the army.”
“Oh, God.” Kimmy shook her head, then took a swig of her hard cider. “I thought Aunt Cathy was going to hold a legit hippie music festival to protest him going overseas.”
“Wait,” Tom said, looking between the two of us. “I'm confused.”
“Aunt Cathy is firmly opposed to violence of any kind,” I explained. “She doesn't think we have any right to fight overseas and invade other countries, regardless of whether it's a place that's committing genocide or something.”
“Whereas Uncle Phil,” Kimmy said, “is a firm believer in nuking them all and letting God sort it out.”
“No, not about that,” Tom said. “Whose dad's side of the family are we talking about.”
“Both of ours,” Kimmy and I said almost simultaneously.
Tom frowned, his face scrunched up in confusion. “I thought you were cousins.”
“We are,” I said.
“On your fathers' sides.”
“And our mothers',” I said, smirking.
Tom thought about that for a moment, then asked, “Did I just hear Dueling Banjos start to play?”
Kimmy and I both laughed. “No, it's not quite that weird. We're just cousins on both sides.”
“How does that work, exactly?”
“Well,” I said, “My mom and dad met and started dating. Then my dad introduced his little brother, Uncle Joe, to Mom's little sister, Aunt Janet.”
“And they got together too?” Tom asked.
“
Ayup,” I said. “It's weird, but not like,
Deliverance
weird.”