Page 58 of Rootbound
Henry’s face is the first my eyes are pulled to, and I can’t interpret his expression.
Lucy, being a gem, cuts the tension with a resounding, “Fuuuuuuuccckkkkkk. Welp, I’m going to need to take pictures of everything, now.”
“How’d you get your ‘big break’ though?” Duane presses, finger quotes included.
“Luck, really. It was all luck.” I shrug.
I don’t miss the looks exchanged between Duane and Em again, and I feel bad for the man and the verbal whipping he’s sure to receive later.
That night, Charlie asks if he can give me a ride back to my place. When he drops me off, he reaches across the truck to grab my hand, and says, “I am so sorry that you had to grow up thinking that just because you were observant enough to see what other people needed, that it wasyourresponsibility to be considerate of that, or to ever put yourself second, Tait. I hope you can… I hope you can see yourself through our eyes, sometime, and see how beautiful and incredible you are, and see how much you have to be proud of—not just your work, although you shouldbe so damn proud of what you do, sweetheart—but be proud of yourself, ofyourlife.”
In a wobbly voice, I say, “I really, truly am. I promise, Dad.”
On day nine, Henry introduces me to The Teskey Brothers, The New Basement Tapes, and vows to organize my music intoappropriateplaylists. I introduce him to Kacey Musgraves,8 out of 10 Cats,and make him promise to watchStar Warswith me (since he has never seen a single movie). I talk too much about my air fryer.
For someone typically stingy with his words, I learn that he’s easy to get babbling when it comes to gardening, desserts, and music.
On day ten, he and Grady bring me to meet the llamas that they use to help carry out equipment on hunts, and I understand why loving the creatures damn near becomes a personality trait for some people. I even let Henry take a few photos of me with them when he asks. He surprises me when he does so using his phone.
We spend a few days dedicating photography to all the animals in residence, as well as the wild ones.
Wefinallysee the wild horses.
We see herds of elk, wolves, even bighorn sheep out across the land.
When I cry watching a barn cat give birth to kittens, Henry asks me why I don’t have any pets. I brush it off withthe explanation that I travel too much. When he continues to frown, I admit, “I look at dog shelters online when I’m back at home, every single day. It’s my ‘not porn.’”
His expression turns downright frightened. “Please unpack that sentence a bit for me, Tait.”
“Everyone has their ‘not porn’… a certain type of video or thing they have to look at online—something that’s not porn, but still addictive—because it makes them feel something. Like, videos of soldiers coming home and surprising their families, or pimple popping videos. I just don’t think it would be fair for me to do the rescuing if I’m going to turn around and leave all the time.”
On day twelve, I ask Henry what his favorite dessert is.
“I think it might be creme brûlée,” he says with a smirk, but before I can question him further, he asks me what my favorite show is, which leads to discovering our shared love ofNew Girl.
On day thirteen, Em asks me to go with her to the nursery to buy some plants for around the property for fall. When we get back to my place, she startles me by jabbing into the bottom of the plant with a pair of shears and slicing through the dirt and roots. At my dumbfounded expression, she explains:
“When you buy a new plant, you often have to cut the roots when it comes out of the pot. That way, when you put it into the ground, the roots will reach outward, and it will thrive.If you left it in that plastic pot, in that compacted shape it’s in, the roots would grow around and around in a tangled mass until it’d choke the life from itself. It would become too rootbound to grow.”
Cast and crew start arriving, with filming scheduled to start the following Monday. This is also when Charlie, James, and Henry are set to leave for ten days for a hunting trip.
I tell myself it will be good for me to have some distance from the attraction, to gather my wits like I haven’t been able to since arriving here. But the truth is, I’m not really fooling myself: I’ll miss him. I’ll miss Charlie and James, even. Charlie and I seem to understand one another now at least, and whenever certain comments trigger my resentment, he takes his lumps in stride.
It’s day sixteen that this cozy little slideshow of moments I’ve been mentally compiling (probably set to something by The Beatles, complete with snapshots and slow-mo clips, if we were to get specific) comes to a screeching, skittering halt.
It’s the first dinner that Henry and I are left to on our own. Everyone else has plans—something I did not account for when I made enough taco meat to feed twenty. I don’t know how to quantify portion sizes to begin with for cooking for more than one, but I stupidly assumed everyone would be free to join, being that it’s a Friday night, and with the birthday party coming up on Sunday. I’ve only justfinished shredding the meat when Lucy’s text comes through.
Lucy: Sorry, meeting up with some friends in town tonight. Thanks for the invite, though!
Shit. I should just text Henry and tell him I’m not coming.
But, he was probably planning on tacos. I talked up my crockpot game already. It’d be an obvious cop-out at this point.
It’s fine. We manage just fine during breakfasts, after all, and we’ve had so many conversations where the others fade to the background, anyway. It really should not matter.
Still, my chest starts to hollow out and feel like a windy tunnel—of anxiety, nerves… excitement? This thing with us has begun to feel… inevitable.
My phone jolts on the counter and I jump, but answer when I see that it’s the man in question.