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CHAPTER 19
Cheyenne
The birthday party was in full swing, and thankfully, it hadn’t been a costume-themed gathering. Apparently, that was just Colleen’s everyday style. I found myself where I usually ended up at any social gathering, in a corner observing. Luckily, I had a paper and pencil. Art was my safe haven. So, I sat with my sketch pad and traced the scene before me.
“Hi.” A friendly blonde woman walked by and greeted me on her way to the kitchen.
“Hi!” I lifted my hand and waved hoping that it wasn’t obvious I had no clue what her name was.
I was trying to keep everyone straight, but that was near impossible. There were at least fifty people in attendance. Two of Mitch’s brothers and their wives were there. They each had children and then those children had children.
Then there were Mitch’s own kids. He had four and they were all married. I was pretty sure I had their names down. Claudette, Calvin, Corey, and Candace. They’d gone with a C theme and Mitch had mentioned that Cash fit right in with it. I wasn’t as clear on all the C’s spouses or children’s names though, except one. Candace, Mitch’s youngest, had a one-year-old daughter named Claire who loved Cash.
I didn’t blame her. I felt the same way. The baby girl lit up when she saw him, reached out for him, and had been monopolizing his time since she arrived. I wasn’t sure which one of them I was more jealous of, him for getting to hold a baby all night or her for getting Cash’s undivided attention.
“Hi,” A brunette woman with a bob haircut and warm smile sat down on the sofa beside me. “It’s Cheyenne, right?”
“Yes. Hi,” I said cheerily, having no clue who I was speaking to.
“I’m Mary, Mitch’s sister.”
“Hi.” I smiled widely, grateful that she’d introduced herself.
“There’s so many of us. We should really wear name tags.”
I chuckled but that would actually be extremely useful.
“Oh wow.” Her eyes widened as she glanced over at my pad. “That’s amazing. You are really talented.”
“Oh, thanks.” Art was so subjective. My grandparents had never taken my art seriously because I mainly focused on portraits and still life.
I heard my grandmother’s voice in my head. “True artists don’t have to rely on their eyes to create. They can make a masterpiece relying solely on their own imaginations.”
Which was her way of telling me that I wasn’t a “real” artist.
“So, do you have a big family?” she asked, making small talk.
I started to answer no but stopped myself. This was the first time anyone had asked me since I’d moved back to Firefly and was back in contact with my family.
“I have three brothers.”
“Oh wow.” Her eyes widened. “I bet the boys were scared to talk to you.”
“Actually, I didn’t grow up with them.”
“Oh, really.” I could tell that she had follow up questions but wasn’t sure if she should ask them.
“My mom died when I was five and I went to live with my grandparents,” I explained.
“Oh, um…” Her lips flattened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “It was a long time ago.”
Firefly Island might be gossip heavy but at least there everyone knew my family situation, so I never had to explain it to anyone. Growing up, I’d never talked about my brothers partly because no one asked, but also because I didn’t really think about them. As I’d started studying psychology, I learned that blocking out the memories of the first five years of my life had been a coping mechanism. It was too painful and confusing for my little brain to remember so I just sort of put the memories in a metaphorical box and closed the lid on them.
Since I’d been back in Firefly the lid had come off and I’d been remembering things. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if they actually happened or if my brain was just sort of filling things in from stories people told me.
“So how long have you and Cash been together?” she asked, changing the subject.
