I think I’ve alluded to ranch days without being specific. Hear me out: Glenn and Robin retire to a ranch like the Uncle Davids in that one great post. Here’s some ranch days writing. No, I don’t know how and when adult Nick and adult Grant got together, I am so simply informed that this happens and therefore have proceeded accordingly. They are tired dads of triplet toddlers and I worked from there.
“You’re nervous,” Nick says. He’s not asking, he’s telling. Grant’s knee has been bouncing rapidly for the past five minutes, as soon as they took the exit off the freeway and started making their way down the increasingly rural roads toward the ranch.
Grant’s voice is tight. “I’m fine. I’m just adjusting to a new situation.”
“Letting our parents watch the kids while we have a weekend away isn’t a new situation,” Nick says quietly.
“It’s different,” Grant replies. “My parents are—“
“Sane? Responsible? Usually sober?” Nick volunteers. “I know, I know, Glenn’s got priors. But he’s clear on the rules and he knows we’ll come down hard on him if he even bends them. He’s always done fine when he comes to our place to babysit.”
“Except when Morgan gave Bub a haircut on his watch,” Grant mutters.
“That could have happened to anyone,” Nick says, a hint defensively. “Toddlers are like that. Hair grows.”
Grant looks back at the kids in the backseat, lined up neatly in their carseats and utterly oblivious to their dads’ discussion. Bub has his headphones in, listening to music with eyes closed and his head nodding along to the beat. Birdie is playing with the felt activity book that Mrs. Stampler made her for Christmas, and Morgan is asleep, her mouth hanging wide open and her head lolling gently with the car’s movement. He turns back to look at the road ahead of them before he starts to get carsick, just in time to watch Nick slow down and turn onto an unmarked gravel road.
“What if there’s an accident?” Grant frets. “They’re so far away from everything. An ambulance would take so long.”
“Fortunately, this weekend there will be a skilled physician on site who specializes in emergency medicine,” Nick says dryly. “That’s above and beyond, isn’t it?”
“In general, yeah,” Grant says. “When it’s specifically Connor…”
There’s a slightly tense silence as they drive slowly along, punctuated by the rattle of gravel under their tires and the occasional ping as a piece flies up to hit the undercarriage of the car. Nick removes one of his hands from the wheel and offers it to Grant. Grant takes it in his own hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“I know you don’t forgive my dad for everything that happened when I was younger,” Nick says quietly. Grant starts to speak, but Nick shakes his head. “You don’t have to, it’s fine. But it’s been a long time, and I trust him to handle this. If you don’t—“
“—I’m not saying I don’t—“
“—then tell me now and I’ll turn around and we can go home.”
Before Grant can respond, they follow a curve in the road and Nick has to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a doe that’s standing in the middle of the lane. The tires skid on the gravel and they stop only yards away from the undersized creature. The two men sit in silence, watching her. The doe regards the car with ambivalence for a moment before tossing her head and hurrying away into the brush.
“A deer,” Birdie says with awe from the backseat. “Daddy, I saw a deer.”
“That’s right,” Grant says automatically. “That’s a deer, honey, good job.”
Bub pulls his headphones off and tries to press his face against the window. “I don’t see it. Where is it?” His voice is loud, and causes Morgan to give the snuffling snort that means she’s about to wake up and demand food, attention, and a detailed recap of everything she missed while she was asleep. Nick starts driving again.
“No! I need to see it!” Bub protests fretfully. “Don’t drive!”
“You can see deer when we get there,” Grant says reassuringly. “There are lots and lots of animals at the ranch. We’re almost there, okay?”
Nick glances over at him. “So we’re sticking to the original plan?”
Grant sighs and nods. “You’re right. They’re going to have a ton of fun, and it’s going to be fine.”
“And we’re going to have a fun weekend, too,” Nick says firmly. “With uninterrupted conversations about actual topics, and dinner out someplace where they don’t give you crayons to color on the menu.”
“I’m gonna sleep in,” Grant agrees. “So much. It’s been too long.”
The car finally rounds the last curve of the twisting road, and the ranch appears in front of them. Glenn is waiting by the gate, wearing only short denim cutoffs and broken-down cowboy boots. He wears the look with all the confidence of a chiseled man in the prime of his life, despite all the gray in his unruly hair and the solid little belly he’s sported ever since he hit fifty or so.
Glenn hops down off the fence to open the gate so they can drive inside, waving them through. They’re barely inside before a dark blur zips past in the rear-view mirror. There’s a thump from behind them as Glenn vaults over the trunk, then a confused explosion of feathers and noise as a six foot tall… something… rushes away from the gate and past the car. The kids shriek in terrified glee from the backseat.
“Is that an emu?” Grant manages to ask.
“Daddy!” Birdie sounds triumphant. “I saw a dinosaur!”
Nick doesn’t respond. He rolls down the window, his face blank, and waits for his father to approach the car. Glenn hurls a handful of gravel in the direction of the retreating bird and then ambles over, leaning down to look inside their vehicle. “Stupid feathery fuck,” he says. “Sup, Nicholas. How was the drive?”
