Page 75 of Badd Love
She exhaled smoke at the sky, glancing at me sidelong. "Purpose is a funny thing, huh?"
"But you've always had one."
She nodded. "That's what I mean. We were all raised by the same parents in the same house, but yet…"
I snorted. "But yet you, Dunc, and Sunni all have a distinct sense of purpose, while I'm out here stumbling around aimlessly like a dork."
"You've always been a late bloomer," she said.
This got a cackle out of me. "Wow, Dee, you're just really making me feel great about myself, thanks! Not only do I not have a fucking function in life, I'mSLOW!"
"That isnotwhat I meant, Dane, Jesus fucking Christ. Take things the wrong way, why don't you?"
Her ire was intense enough to give me pause. "Well, how else am I supposed to take it, Dee? You've always known who you are and what you want out of your life. Same with Dunc, same with Sunni, same with Ella, same with Jax. I can go on."
Footsteps thunked on the deck, and we both turned to see our Uncle Lucian striding down the dock toward us. Second youngest of Dad's brothers, he was tall and lean, built more like Duncan where I was more like Uncle Bax, shorter and denser. He had shoulder-length hair tied back low on his neck—a style he'd kept pretty much his whole life—going gray at the temples with a few strands of silver sprinkled through it. He had a week's worth of stubble on his jaw, his hair bound back and tied low on his neck.
"Uncle Luce!" Delia and I said in unison—there were two ways of pronouncing his name:LOOSH-anandLOOSE-ee-an. He would answer to either and refused to say which he preferred, so some people in the family shortened his name toLOOSHand others toLOOSE; Delia used the latter while I used the former.
"Hey, kiddos." Uncle Lucian has always been the epitome of laid-back cool.
He moved slowly and with purpose, stayed quiet unless he had something important to say, and was almost always even-keeled, soft-spoken, and easy-going. He and Aunt Joss owned The Garden, a bookstore-cafe a few doors down from Badd's Bar and Grille that had a pretty big following online. Lucian was also a fairly well-known nature macrophotographer, and his work was displayed at The Garden, as well as being sold online and in galleries around the country. He, Joss, and their two kids were also inveterate travelers who spent a good portion of the year out of the country—their kids were homeschooled online to accommodate their travels.
He perched on the arm of Delia's Adirondack, took the joint from me, and took a long hit. “Came down here to say hey and couldn’t help overhearing you two."
At that moment, there was a shriek, a smack, and a wail—Delia's head whipped around toward the sound as if yanked bya string. "Ooop, that's mine. You can take my spot, Uncle Luce, Sebastian is gonna need a nap, and he's in this phase where he'll only let me put him down. Hunter just winds him up, no matter what he does, and Harry is…well, she's just impossible."
Harry was Delia's and Hunter's youngest child, Harriet, affectionately known as Harry to everyone; she was named after Hunter's second-in-command, a tough old battle-axe of a woman who was a regular at Badd Clan shindigs and was known to all as Grandma Harry. She pretended to hate the nickname, but it was clear to all that she secretly loved it. She was particularly enamored with her namesake, who called her "Mamaw Rarry."
Delia hustled off to sort out her kids, and Lucian settled into the vacated chair, taking another puff before handing it back. "Purpose, huh?"
I groaned. "A topic I’m getting almighty sick of, honestly."
"I know exactly how you're feeling, kiddo." He extended his long legs, ankle crossed over ankle. "It's a tough row to hoe, not knowing where you want to go in life, who you want to be."
I frowned at him. "You're a famous photographer. You own a cafe that's a beloved tourist landmark."
"Yeah, but that's just where I ended up. I grew up feelingexactlyhow you're feeling. Think about my brothers, Dane. Bast was the heir apparent to the bar. Zane was a SEAL. Brock was a hotshot pilot. Bax was an athlete—a football star and then an MMA god. The twins were musical geniuses, and Xavier was…well, Xavier. I was the only one who didn't come out of our mother with a predefined purpose in life." He was quiet awhile, as if speaking so much at once required a reset. "I left home to get away from the feeling. I only did photography because it amused me. I never thought of it as art or a possible career—your aunts Tate and Eva were the first to see my talent. And The Garden was Aunt Joss's dream, not mine. I ended upin photography almost by accident. I met Joss by accident. I bought the retail space because I wanted to give Joss her dream, and discovered that it was my dream, too."
"So I need to hope for an accident to give me my purpose?" I puffed and passed.
He laughed. “No, man. Good lord, that's idiotic." He took the joint—now a roach—and took one last little puff before pinching out the cherry. "My point is that it'll happen on its own. As long as you're moving, you'll find your way. You're putting too much emphasis on the idea of purpose, like everyone is supposed to have some sort of, like, holy, god-given mission. It's just life, kid. Do the things that bring you joy. Get a job that pays the bills and that you don't hate, a job you can wake up and not mind doing most days. Have a hobby that fulfills you. Do good things. Love people. Have fun." He shrugged. “It’s pretty simple, really.”
I stared at nothing for a few moments. "But…but I…"
"Your sister and Dunc grew up wanting to follow your dad in the family business,” he said. “Emerson has a natural talent for soccer. Ella is a born entrepreneur. Jax is a tech god like Xavier. They were born that way."
"And I was born without that built-in value."
"Value?" he repeated, incredulous. “You equatepurposewithvalue?"
"Well…yeah?"
He shook his head. "No wonder you feel so trapped, kid. Jesus."
"What?" I asked, genuinely lost.
Didn’t everyone feel that way?
