The Wilde Expedition

38. casual chat

Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

〮CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT 〮

Gavin was killing it with my Aunt—they were on the same page with everything, and Aunt Amaya kept reeling the conversation back to me, like she expected him to have an arsenal of embarrassing stories to share about me. Surprisingly, Gavin had little to say in that field, but perhaps he was just holding back to avoid future harassment from my Aunt.

When I came back into the house, they had Gavin seated at the kitchen counter, middle stool, so he could be stared down equally by everyone around the island. Aunt Amaya claimed the stool beside him, and had her head propped up on her hand, eyes intently on him as he was already going off on some wild adventure—surprisingly, it wasn't exactly from our trip, it was from the time he picked up the two hitch hikers in Yellowstone.

"-Yeah, I picked them up around... five? I don't exactly remember but it was getting dark and I know how terrifying it is to hitchhiking in the dark, so I let 'em hop in. We all sat on the front bench and their names were Rory and Evan—Emma met them! Mm-hmm, after Yellowstone, I dropped them off in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and made plans to meet them in Santa Fe. We stayed at their place for a night, and they gave us a tour of the Plaza and their favorite restaurants," he explained, and seemed excited whenever Aunt Amaya asked him questions, like how old they were, what they were doing in Yellowstone—he had all the answers.

"So you've hitchhiked before," Mom said, standing opposite of him with her forearms resting against the countertop. She had her intimidation face on, and I knew exactly where this was going—she was checking if he'd been as much of a hitchhiker as she was. She hitchhiked to California from Wyoming no problem, in fact, she infrequently called her hitchhiking buddy just to check in, see what she was up to. Aunt Amaya told me all about the days when Mom was a real hippy.

"Yeah, I have. Before I fixed up my van, I hitchhiked to most places outside of Wisconsin. The last time I went was to New York to visit a friend—they met me halfway though," he explained. "Sometimes I take trains. Trains are exciting, if not expensive."

"How old are you, Gavin?" Mom inquired, quirking her head to the side.

"Twenty-three. Twenty-four next year March."

"Interesting. And where do you live in Wisconsin?"

"Stoughton, it's by the state capitol."

"Do you have a job?" she asked. I lifted myself up onto the stool on his left as he answered negative, but he gained money on the side by running websites and blogs, and selling photography prints online.

"And I wouldn't call it a job, but I have a friend who gives me free boxes of tea bags, so I hand those out," he told her, and upon seeing her intrigued expression, said, "You want some? I have plenty left."

"Hell yeah I do—I can never have enough tea," she said, and promptly suggested they go out and get it—she wanted to see the van anyway. In response to that, Aunt Amaya agreed to come with, as did Uncle Bennet. Dad stayed behind with me, and claimed the empty spot where Gavin once sat.

"Had enough of that van, huh?" he asked me, and I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"I'm just sick of sitting all the time. Why am I sitting right now? I need to get up and do something," I said, nudging his shoulder as I spun around and hopped onto my feet. "The van wasn't so bad—I liked it."

Dad turned around on his stool so he leaned his arms back against the countertop, and watched me as I unlooped my backpack straps from around my shoulders. I propped it up on the empty stool and leaned over the wood back, my forearms resting on top of it. I wanted to bring up the topic so terribly, but the thought suddenly occurred to me that perhaps... Dad didn't know that he wasn't my actual father.