The rays of light from the rising sun broke through the barren branches of the trees surrounding me. The deer stand sat tucked away at the end of a long lane that my father had cleared with the tractor and planted lines of green clover.
I scanned the tree line along the edges of the lane in search of deer, but they just didn't seem to be moving this morning. A cool breeze blasted over the top of the metal walls that boxed me in the stand and made me shiver. I shifted my mask higher up on my nose and settled back into the creaky computer chair my father had brought to the stand. My fingers dug into the pockets of my hoodie beneath my orange safety vest in search of some warmth.
Thanksgiving day was always my favorite time to hunt because the temperatures were cool and I could hunt as long as I wanted. My mother wasn't worried about what time I came home; she was only worried about cooking a perfect Thanksgiving dinner.
The quiet whirring of the deer feeder's motor broke the silence of the morning when it sent corn flying to the ground. The barrel of my gun glistened in the sunlight beside me.
I enjoyed deer hunting, but it wasn't for the thrill of the kill like most people. Being on the stand was a way to avoid dealing with my parents. It also gave me a lot of time to think about my life. My fucked up life.
After we arrived at the house yesterday, I'd locked everyone out of my room. I didn't cry during the car ride because I refused to give my parents that satisfaction, but once I was alone there was nothing I could do to stop the tears from falling. My thoughts left me completely destroyed. I could only think about how much I hurt Daxson. Why wasn't I brave enough to tell him the truth? It would've been that easy.
A pair of birds flew from the trees to peck at the corn beneath the feeder. They ate for a bit before they took off, chasing each other through the trees like quarreling couple. I wasn't brave enough because I cared about him, and I knew telling him would mean losing him. Wow, how selfish can I be? I pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket and opened the messages between Daxson and I again. He still hadn't responded, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized he wasn't going to. I fought back the tears by expelling a deep breath from my lungs and grabbed my rifle. The quietness of the stand gave me too much time to think.
After securing the strap of the gun around my body, I descended the stairs until my feet crunched the dried leaves littering the ground. I'd run through a million different situations as I'd tried to imagine a better outcome for yesterday, but every scenario ended the same way. My father would never budge on allowing Daxson into my life, and my mother would continue to use Caleb as a manipulation tool. They'd trapped me into choosing between two people I loved.
I walked the long path from my stand to the field at the edge of my grandpa's land. I glanced at the red damp soil beneath my boots, where imprinted in the mud on the backroad was a fresh trail of deer tracks that led into the woods. I turned away; my fingers curled around the strap of my gun as I walked along the rutted road to my grandpa's farmhouse. Ahead, the metal roof of the shop shimmered in the morning light, and the orange-pink sky was giving way to bright shades of blue.
I crossed the gravel road into the large grassy yard that was shaded by massive pecan trees. Caleb was wandering around with our grandpa's old pecan picker and grinning from ear-to-ear as he jabbed the rusty picker at the ground to collect some fresh pecans for his favorite Thanksgiving pie.
"Morning, Caleb," I called as I closed the distance between us.
Caleb looked up from the ground and waved his hand excitedly. "Allyson, I've picked a w-whole bucket." He pointed the picker toward an off-white five gallon bucket that looked like it had been sitting under grandpa's carport for years.
"I'm proud of you. I guess Momma didn't let you sleep in, huh?" I pulled my mask off my nose to smile at him.
Caleb shook his head and tapped his fingers together. "No, of c-course she didn't. How w-was h-hunt... see anything?" He pushed the pecan picker against the ground and it rattled as some of the nuts popped between the metal wires.
I shook my head. "Nope. A few squirrels and some birds."
"I'm glad you d-decided to come out of your room. I missed you yesterday." He offered a sweet smile.
I laughed as I knelt down to pick up a pecan at my feet. "I missed you too, Caleb. I just needed some time away from Mom and Dad."
"Is it because of w-what they said about Daxson?" He questioned.
I nodded. "Yeah. Daxson doesn't want to be around people like them."
Caleb raised his free hand into the air and touched his temple. "You mean he doesn't w-want to be around racists?" He shook his head and started picking up pecans again. "I don't b-blame him. I d-don't like being around people who are mean to me just because I'm different e-either."
I glanced up at him. "Have people been mean to you Caleb?"
Caleb shoved the pecan picker at the ground with force. "Yes, Allyson. That's the reason I've been in trouble at school. The t-teachers are mean to me, but M-Momma won't listen." His index finger tapped his thumb at an increasing rate. "She t-thinks I'm l-lyi... telling stories. She says I'm using my disability as a c-crutch."
Caleb lifted one of the sleeves of his shirt to reveal a dark bruise along his forearm from what I assumed was his teachers. I don't know how God expected me to keep piecing my heart back together with each blow he handed me. My mother was a professional at ignoring her own children's cries for help.
I rose from the ground and stepped in front of him. "Caleb, why didn't you tell me? I could've done something."
Caleb sighed and glanced at his shoes. "I didn't want you to w-worry about me. You've been worrying about me your whole life. You deserve time to b-be happy." He extended his fingers out to tap them against my hand.
I didn't want to cry in front of him so I sniffled a few times to hide it. "You gave me more than enough time."
Caleb shook his head. "You deserve to be h-happy forever, Allyson." He took the pecan from me and set it in the five gallon bucket beside him.
"You do too, you know?" I shoved my hands into my pockets and pulled out the MIT application form I had folded into a small square to to carry in my hunting vest. I wanted to make sure I gave it to Caleb. "Daxson's little sister, Alexus, wanted me to give this to you."
Caleb eyed the square of paper hesitantly before he let me drop it into his palm. He unfolded it and his eyebrows rose to the tips of his shaggy brown hair. "Is this MIT? T-The MIT?" A twitch started in his jaw as he stared at the paper.
I smiled warmly at him. "Yeah, they're holding a camp next summer for a select group of kids."
Caleb's hands shook with excitement as he jumped up and down. "I could be at the same s-scho... college that Tony Stark attended. This is the best present ever." In the same minute, his excitement faded and he stood still.
I titled my head. "What's wrong?"
Caleb tapped his fingers to his temple again. "Momma will n-never let me go that far away. You know how she is."
"I'm going to talk with Momma. All you need to do is focus on filling out this application and creating a project before December seventh. Can you do that?"
Caleb nodded with a sly smile. "Of c-course, Alyson. I c-can do anything I set my mind to."
The loud bang of a screen door slamming against a wooden frame filled the yard. We both looked in time to see Grandpa waddling down the brick steps in his plaid button down shirt and black suspenders.
"Allyson!"
I patted Caleb's hand with a smile before walking toward my grandpa. He stood with his hands dangling at his sides and his glasses hanging off the tip of his nose.
"Did you need me?" My fingers dug into the leather strap securing my gun to my back. It was time to put my big girl panties on, and defend myself again.
He tried to pull his pants higher on his waist, but his protruding belly prevented them from moving. "Uh, yes. We need to have a talk." He sighed and motioned for me to follow him up the brick stairs to the house.
Even in the movies we need to have a talk never meant anything good. I sucked in a sharp breath and tucked my hair behind my ears before following him into the house. The old floorboards in the foyer creaked beneath my weight.
My grandparents' home was like a living museum. My grandmother never bought anything more modern than the 1960's, and once she passed away, Grandpa didn't change a single thing. The light blue and white walls were right out of her favorite era. The floral prints were bold and the furniture sparse and simple. In the foyer beside an old humming freezer sat an orange telephone with it's large dialing disk and curled cable dangling from the receiver. It was the first time I had seen the house so dusty. Grandpa must have had trouble finding someone to help him clean because nobody wanted to make the long drive from town down the levee everyday.
Grandpa stopped at the small round dining table in the kitchen. He squatted down into the chair with a grunt and rested his arm on the table. His eyes focused on me with a saddened expression. "Allyson, you know you I love you very much."
"Yeah, Grandpa, of course I know that." I stood with my arms folded a few feet from the table.
"And I only want what's best for you," he continued, clearing his throat.
I nodded, but I already knew what he was going to say. He had to give me his opinion.
"Your father told me about the black boy." His fingers drummed across the table as he shook his head.
I didn't expect anything less from my father. He'd probably told the whole family in an effort to convince me how wrong the relationship was. I was coping with no longer having Daxson on my side, and I was having to fight off everyone else's opinion about the subject.
"What about him? He's a good guy. He plays football. He's going to graduate with a teaching degree and he's never disrespected me..."
"I got no problem with his color, but they need to stick with their own kind. Black boys looking for white women aren't anything but trouble. They just want trophies and playthings, and that's disgusting, really." He pushed his glasses further up his nose.
"You don't know him. How can you judge someone you've never even met?"
"I know his type. I've lived long enough to know how things like this work, much longer than you have. I just don't want to see you hurt or given a hard time for this." He had a stern look on his face.
I'm tired of being made out to be a bad person because of who I love. It seemed like everyone was trying to look out for me, but they were ignoring how I felt. They just wanted what would make them look the best, not what would make me happy.
I shook my head with a laugh. "The only people giving me a hard time for this is my own family." I threw my hands into the air. "All of my friends support me. Daxson supported me. Caleb even likes him."
Grandpa sighed in frustration and motioned for me to sit at the table. I shook my head and curled my hands into fists at my side.
"Look, Allyson. If you start mixing things together, it complicates everything." He pointed a finger at the table. "I've been thinking about this long and hard since your Daddy called me yesterday. I even called my preacher about it because it's been eating at me. I don't want to see my granddaughter throwing away her potential with a colored man."
"I'm not going to try and argue this with you, Grandpa, because I know your mind is set. It won't change no matter how hard I try, but I will tell you that I disagree. Sometimes when you mix things together, it creates something really beautiful, something unique. Like I told Dad, I was raised to know wrong from right. I'm a smart girl, and I'm never going to let someone mistreat me whether that be a black man, a white man, or even my own family." I met his eyes before turning on my heels to exit the kitchen.
His chair scrapped across the ground as he stood to follow me. "Allyson, don't do this. If you choose to continue this path, then I will not support you anymore."
"Oh, you mean just like you and grandma chose not to support Momma? You've never liked her, but Dad still married her anyway." I shook my head.
"That was a different circumstance. Your mother just had some changing to do," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, so you mean because she was white, it wasn't the end of the world." I glared at him.
"Allyson, why don't you listen to the people trying to help you?" His small bottom lip trembled.
"I didn't ask for your help. Daxson isn't a problem that needs to be solved. I'm sick and tired of people trying to control who I am and what I do. I need a chance to be me, to be the real Allyson, and if you can't support that, then I don't need you in my life. It's as simple as that, Grandpa."
"So, you're choosing him over your own family?" He pointed at me with a thick finger.
"I want both of you in my life, but if that isn't possible then it's because you made that decision, not me." I watched him for a minute.
He sighed and shook his head, but remained silent. I inhaled a sharp breath and turned to exit the house with a loud bang of the front door. I clenched my fists to try and stop the tremor in my hands. My eyes found Caleb still roaming the yard for pecans. The people who truly wanted to be in my life would be there no matter what. I shouldn't have to fight to keep them.
My heart skipped a beat when my phone buzzed inside my pocket. Speaking of fighting to keep them. I pulled it out as I crossed the grassy yard to where Caleb continued to gather pecans.
Hey, girl. Remember I'm here if you need me.
Camila lived up to the title of best-friend by checking on me every couple of hours since I'd told her about what had happened. But as nice as it was to read her name on my screen, it wasn't the name I wanted to see.
I sighed as I responded to her, and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Daxson played in one of the biggest rivalries in the country tomorrow. Alabama played Auburn in the game that would determine if Alabama went to its fourth consecutive SEC title game. It was also the game a lot of NFL scouts would be watching. I'm sure the girl who knew everything about his past and then still wasn't honest with him was the least of Daxson's worries. I wondered if he'd even thought about me or if I was just someone he was trying to forget. A piece of me hoped he'd find it in him to forgive me, even if it meant we went back to being friends, because to have him in my life in any form was better than not having him at all.
A breeze whipped across the grassy yard, blowing leaves into the air as I came to a stop next to Caleb. "Are you ready to head back to the house? I really need to talk to Momma about some stuff."
Caleb dumped his load of pecans from the picker into the bucket. "Sure. What did Grandpa w-wa... need?"
"He just wanted to talk about stuff. Nothing for you to worry about." I moved to pick up the bucket for him, but he stomped his foot into the ground.
"I'm a big boy, Allyson. I can c-carry it." He lifted the bucket from the ground and gripped it tightly with both hands.
"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" I asked as he started across the yard, leaving the pecan picker on the ground.
"I got this," he mumbled over his shoulder.
I snatched the pecan picker up with a soft laugh and followed him. He had grown so much in the few months I'd been gone for school, not only in physical size, but also in his mentality. I watched Caleb carry the bucket all the way to the truck and load it into the back by himself. He tapped his temple a few times before he climbed into the passenger's seat of the truck with a confident smile.
Once I made it to the truck, I propped my rifle between the console and the driver's seat with the barrel pointed to the floor, and pulled out of Grandpa's yard. I started down the red dirt road, adjusting the mirror to get a good view of the old farmhouse.
Every childhood memory flooded my mind—the hot summers when grandma would let me swim in the old toddler pool she kept for the dogs while she shucked some of the best sweet corn in the state, and the day Lindsey and I climbed to the top of the silos to get a view of the farm and almost fell inside with the freshly harvested rice. The funniest memory I had was when our cousin Grace tried to hide out in the old shed and got chased by a raccoon. I'm pretty sure she still has a fear of the little bandits to this day.
The red dust swirled behind the truck and clouded my view of my Grandpa's home— a place I'd always loved was a place I wasn't welcomed anymore.
"Allyson, thank you for bringing me the application for the s-summer camp. I'm excited to try something different. I'm t-tir... annoyed with Momma for using my condition to keep me from doing things I've always w-wanted to do." Caleb watched the fields pass by as we drove up the levee.
"You're welcome, but you should really thank Daxson and his little sister you ever get the chance too. They're the ones who told me you should do it. I was scared of what Momma would say, but they reminded me that it's important to chase your dreams. I'm not going to let Momma get in the way of your dreams like she tried to do for me." My fingers grasped the leather steering wheel as we exited off the levee and followed the dirt road to our house.
Caleb tapped his index finger to his thumb at a slow pace and his eyebrows squished together. "I'll definitely thank them for the application, and f-for helping you."
"What do you mean?" I asked, pulling the truck into the front yard of our house and putting it in park.
"You may n-not be talking to Daxson right now, b-but I can see how much he's changed you. In a g-go... great way, of course. You don't seem so sad all the time." He extended his hand across the console to pat my arm. "I know you love me and want to p-prote...care for me forever, but you shouldn't let that stop you f-from following your dreams." He paused. "Or your heart."
I stared over at my little brother, who had just given me the advice I expected someone much older to give me. I bit my tongue, trying to hold the tears that threatened to leave my eyes, but I couldn't hold them back. A pair of tears fell from my eyelashes and raced down my cheeks.
"I'm really proud of you, Caleb. You've grown up a lot since I've been gone. You're my little brother, yet here you are giving me advice." I sniffled a few times as I picked at my nails.
A sly smile crept onto Caleb's face. "Well, I am highly intelligent, so I think I'm q-qualified to give you advice. I have to show you I can take care of myself so you'll stop worrying all the time." He pulled his clammy hand away from my arm.
I managed a soft laugh as I opened the door of the truck and slid out, grabbing my gun from the floorboard. "I don't think I'll ever truly stop worrying about you. You'll always be my little brother."
Caleb exited the truck and hurried to the tailgate to retrieve his bucket of pecans. "Then, you can worry l-less. Maybe you can invite me to visit you and Daxson when y'all get married." He flashed a teasing smile as he carried the bucket toward the house.
The heartbreak returned like a hurricane. The devastation was absolute. Our emotional home had been leveled, torn apart. There wasn't anything for Daxson and I to return to. I'd broken his trust. I'd failed to stand on his side and fight for him. To think of marriage right now was absurd. Daxson needed some time to heal, and I had a few things I needed to do for myself first. Confronting my mother was number one on my list.
I followed Caleb into the house where he set the bucket down on the kitchen table. He found the nut cracker on the counter and took a seat at the table, scooping a few handfuls of pecans from the bucket. I placed my rifle in the gun rack and pulled off my top few layers of clothes, leaving only the hoodie Daxson had gotten me and my jeans.
"Caleb, don't dirty up the table. At least put a towel down," my mother's voice rang from the kitchen.
As I rounded the corner, I watched my mother bounce around the kitchen in a fury in her effort to make a perfect Thanksgiving dinner. She'd pulled her blonde curls into a bun on top of her head, her apron was stained with different colors, and sweat beaded along her top lip as she pulled open the oven to check on the turkey. She looked like the unpolished mother I used to know.
"Hey, Momma. How's dinner coming along?" I stopped by the table with my arms folded across my chest.
She closed the oven and let out a heavy sigh. "Not very well. I'm behind on cooking because of your father."
When she looked at me, it was almost like she wanted to cry. Dark circles were visible beneath her eyes, and she hadn't even tried to put on any make-up to hide them.
"Here, I can help you." I walked over to stir a pot on the stove as she washed her hands. "What did Dad do this time?"
She dried her hands on a towel and shook her head. "It's nothing we need to talk about."
I nodded as I stared down at the pot of macaroni and cheese I was stirring. This is my chance to talk to her. Her and father must've gotten into a fight, so she was vulnerable.
"Momma, I've been meaning to talk to you about something for a while...." I set the spoon to the side.
Her head snapped in my direction. "Like what? Did you finally decide you want to have that dental work done?"
"No, I want to talk to you about Caleb." My eyes flashed over to Caleb, who cracked the shell of a pecan and tossed the contents of the nut into a glass bowl.
My mother sighed and grabbed the potholder off the counter, picking up a glass dish and sliding it into the oven. "Allyson, there's nothing to talk about. He's been a bad boy since you've left for college."
"Momma, have you even taken the time to look at him? To listen to what he's been trying to tell you?"
She closed the oven and moved to stir a couple of the pots on the stove. "I really don't have time to talk about this right now, Al—"
I grabbed her wrist. "Momma, stop." I forced her to drop the spoon in her hand. "Look at me."
Her green eyes met mine as she took a deep breath.
"The teachers at school have been abusing him." I released her wrist. "He's got bruises. He hasn't been acting out just to mess up the perfect little life you pretend you have. He's been trying to get his mother to pay attention to him."
My mother looked up at me with confusion swimming in her eyes. "That's the most ridiculous story I've ever heard, Allyson. That's Caleb making stuff up again. Mrs. Lou and Mrs. Carmen would never do that."
"Are you kidding me? You've never taken our side on anything." I flung my hands into the air. "We're your children."
My mother twisted her wedding ring as her eyes bounced from me to the back door. "Allyson, your father is home. He wants a perfect Thanksgiving dinner, so I suggest you let this conversation go."
"There you go again. This obsession with perfection, Momma. Why? Why does everyone have to think everything in our family is perfect?"
She remained silent, her lips pulled into a tight line. I let out a heavy sigh. I needed to know.
"I've finally learned that you don't have to be perfect to be happy. I've learned that not everyone is always going to think highly of you, but that's okay. You surround yourself with people who are going to love you no matter what." I pointed over to Caleb. "Caleb matters to me, and I refuse to let you or the people at school mistreat him."
My mother's eyes twinkled with what I only hoped was understanding, but she quickly returned to slaving over the stove. I stared at her back, trying desperately to hold in my frustration.
The knob turned on the back-door, and my father's tall form dressed in camouflage entered the kitchen.
"Whoo. Good-afternoon, family." He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."
"Great timing. If you guys will go wash your hands, I'll get the table set." My mother pushed me out the way when she opened the oven to pull the turkey out.
"Allyson, did you see anything today?" My father asked, tossing his hat onto the china cabinet by the back door.
I glared at him and turned to leave the kitchen. He didn't deserve any of my words. After washing my hands, I returned to the dining table and took a seat beside Caleb. Our mother had prepared the same Thanksgiving spread she did every year—a large turkey and ham surrounded by casseroles galore.
My mother took a seat by my father at the edge of the table, her eyes landing on Caleb who had set the application to MIT beside his plate. "Caleb, I think you should put that up. It's time for us to say the prayer."
"But I wanted to r-read about it when I f-fin...get done with dinner. It's not hurting anything by siting here." Caleb tapped his fingers together.
"Put it away." My mother raised her voice an octave.
Caleb slammed both his palms against the table, causing all the plates to clatter together. "Why are you s-so controlling? You always keep me from doing the things I want to do."
My father glanced at my mother. "Do I need to say something, Mary?"
My mother shifted her weight in her chair so she could get a better look at my father. "I don't know, do you?" She tilted her head, and tried to lower her voice to a whisper. "Are we going to have a repeat of last night if I don't get him to behave?"
"You're a mess. That's why they're a mess. Now, we can discuss this more later, but for now, I'm going to enjoy my dinner." He looked down at Caleb and I with a challenging look in his eyes. "Let's say the prayer."
My mother shoved her chair away from the table as soon as we bowed our heads. She thrust her hands down to her sides and left the room. My eyes flickered to Caleb.
"Go," he whispered.
I stood from the table. "I'm going to check on Momma."
"Allyson, sit down, now," my father demanded.
My eyes met my father's across the table. "No. I'm going to check on Mom. This is Thanksgiving. We all should be here together."
A strange feeling of strength swelled inside me. The crease in his forehead appeared, but I didn't care if he was angry. He couldn't argue with my logic. I exited the room and took a few deep breaths, finding my way back to the kitchen where my mother sat at the breakfast table. She cracked a few pecans from Caleb's bucket, trying to ignore the tears that rolled down her cheeks. I walked to the table and sat in the chair across from her.
"I've really failed you as a mother." She cracked a pecan and stared at the crumbled shell in her hands.
It's nice to see she's finally noticed.
"You haven't been the best."
"Why have you never came to me before?" She dropped the contents of the pecan into the glass bowl.
"I've been scared too. You've always talked down to me and made me feel like I'll ever be good enough. You even slapped me when I tried to tell you I was too sick for that stupid pageant in Vegas." I shook my head. "But the scariest part was when you made it seem like something would happen to Caleb if I didn't play the part you wanted me to play."
"I've put a lot of pressure on you and your brother over the years." She raised her hand to her cheeks to wipe away a few tears. "I've been so obsessed with trying to be perfect that I've forgotten what really matters."
"Why do you think you have to be perfect though, Momma?"
"There will never be a good enough reason to explain the way I've acted, but the best reason I can give you is because I knew I if I wanted to be with your father I had to be. I was young and naïve when I met him. In my eyes, he was my Prince Charming. He had the ability to rescue me from my miserable life— living with my drug-addict mother in an old dirty trailer. The only condition was that I had to impress your grandparents." She shook her head and took a deep breath.
"They always seemed to avoid you when they came to visit." I brushed my hair behind my ears.
"In their eyes, I wasn't good enough to date their son. I had no money, and I looked like it. I didn't even have a car when I met your father. Everyone in town talked bad about me because they thought I was strung out on drugs like my mother, but your father helped me get my life together. We got married, had a beautiful house, and a sweet little baby girl. He gave me everything I thought I'd never have." A few tears rolled down her cheeks.
"When Caleb was diagnosed with autism, Grandma and Grandpa thought that was your fault too. Didn't they?"
"Of course. If anything went wrong, it was because I wasn't good enough. I didn't want them thinking the same about you guys. I became obsessed with keeping their approval." She extended her hand across the table to me. "I'm so sorry."
I hesitated, but took her hand. "It's okay, Momma. Everyone makes mistakes." I gave her a soft smile.
"I just hope you and your brother will be able to forgive me. I don't want to lose you." She wiped away a few of the tears running down her cheeks.
"It'll take some time."
She hung her head, unable to look at me. "How much time?"
"I can't tell you a specific time." I sighed. "I think you should start by getting Caleb out of that school."
"But everyone will th—" she started, but I raised my hand.
"Do you care about what everyone will think, or about what we will think?" I grabbed her hand again.
She stared at our hands. "I guess you think I should let him go all the way to Massachusetts too?"
"I don't think it'd hurt to let him apply. If he gets accepted, you can think about it then."
She looked back up at me, taking time to really study my face. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but she chose to stay silent.
"Come on, Momma. Let's go enjoy the Thanksgiving lunch you made." I stood and walked to the middle of the kitchen.
"Allyson." She stood from the table and folded her arms across her chest. Her messy bun had fallen from the top of her head, freeing some of her small blonde curls to frame her face. "Do you think I could help you guys make the pecan pie after lunch?"
My lips lifted upward into a smile as I turned my attention back to my mother. "I think Caleb and I would like that very much."