doesn’t need much, other than that.”
We shared a smile, thinking of his sparsely furnished apartment. He had his recliner and his TV. A small table to eat his meals, and a small balcony overlooking downtown Green Valley where he smoked his clove cigarettes. One every night before bed.
"No, he doesn't." My heart tugged painfully in my chest when I thought of him. "I love that about him."
Aunt Fran patted my hand. "Me too, sweetpea."
Uncle Robert winked at us when he pulled the last box out of the truck and walked it into the garage apartment that I'd be staying in until I got my feet under me. My cousin Levi used to live there until he moved to Seattle with his girlfriend, and since I got here a few days before my brother, I claimed that shit real fast.
"Speaking of jobs," I said slowly. "I'm going to need something to do."
She nodded and took a sip of her tea. "I know. I've been puzzling over that the last few days."
"I have too, I just don't know the places to puzzle about like you do."
"Well," she said thoughtfully, "it'll be hard to find something like your last job. But I think you know that."
The snort that came from the general vicinity of my throat made her laugh. "I'll bet. And that's part of the reason I'm happy to be here. That job drained the soul right out of my body."
"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad."
I cut her a look. "It sounds so innocent on paper, right? Receptionist at a photography studio. Perfect if you’re trying to become a photographer yourself. But when you're talking anywhere in the Los Angeles or Hollywood area, the subheading of that job description is Must Be Willing to Wrangle Pigs, Perverts, and Princesses. I've never been told to get my boobs done or had my ass groped so much in my life."
Now my full-body shudder was apparent, and she gave me a sad smile. "Well, I'm even more glad you're here then. It’ll be a good change of pace for you."
I leaned my head back and stared up at the soft blue sky. The edges of their yard, tips of the trees sweeping back and forth in the breeze, was starting to shift to a pinkish-orange as the sun began its descent somewhere that I couldn't see.
The sounds were different here, and they soothed something in me that I hadn't realized needed soothing. Like I was a cat whose hair was still lifted along my spine, a frightened child ready for a fight, and those birds singing sweetly as they swooped from tree to tree were slowly helping me lower my clenched fists.
Noises that I couldn't identify, no matter how hard I tried, were a song I wanted desperately to put on repeat, let it wipe away the memories of grungy buildings and plastic faces and gridlocked traffic.
"I'm glad I'm here," I heard myself saying. "I don't think I care what I do."
“What about the bakery? Joss has only been gone for about a month since she and Levi moved. I’ll bet she’d call over there for you if you want an interview.”
I couldn’t have stifled that laugh if I tried. “I’m a terrible baker.”
“Oh, hush, you can’t be that bad. It’s just following a recipe is all.”
“I suppose it’s something,” I said quietly. “Maybe I’ll call Joss tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes again and listened to the sounds pushing through the branches and the leaves.
"There's got to be something that calls to you, sweetpea," she said softly, like she could tell I was in a trance. “Beyond just a paycheck. I know you need that too, to get your feet under you, but what do you want to do?”
My eyes closed, even though I wanted to watch the sky change color. "I love taking pictures, but … probably not much of a calling for that here. I couldn't make that a career in LA either. How bad is that?"
"You're young, honey, of course that's not bad. I think you'll figure it out."
My job at the studio was supposed to be my foot in the door. The lever into my success. Except all it got me was a boss who catered to the fake and the phony. Any suggestion I had, any ideas I tried to bring to him earned me a pat on the head and a pointed finger back to my sterile desk in the lobby.
I turned my face in her direction and opened