All Folked Up (Good Folk: Modern Folktales, #3)

by Penny Reid

“Love sometimes means calling another person on their bullshit, even if doing so requires an awkward, uncomfortable conversation, like this one we’re having right now.” ― Jethro Winston, Beard Necessities by Penny Reid

“Age is just a number, Isaac. Don’t let age hold you back.” He lifted his cup toward me again. “Get that tattoo. Wear those miniskirts. Buy that comic book.”

When you have a family member with a chronic health condition, like my momma has had since her accident, your body becomes conditioned in a variety of ways. One of those ways was going from fast asleep to awake and ready to respond to whatever emergency in the span of five seconds.

“That shit is heaven on a fork, and I don’t even usually like cake. We should freeze the rest of it and save it for sad days.”

“But they told lies about her.” “So?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Who gives a shit what other people say if you know the truth?”

There’s a comfort between shy people, a shared sense of belonging to the outskirts and the edges.

Minimizing my uncomfortable emotions until they seemed like a speck in comparison to what others faced was a fantastic way to never allow myself to have feelings about anything, let alone experience sadness or disappointment.

It had taught me to never assume I knew what privileges or troubles a person faced without wearing their apron and baking their banana cakes.

He’d slipped into the role effortlessly. Hank had become a loving stepfather and caring partner.

“Don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep others warm.” ― Duane Winston, Beard in Mind by Penny Reid

I needed to keep an open mind and stop assuming life would give me the shit side of the stick. This last one would take a while to unlearn, but I didn’t want to miss out on the good in life because I always expected the worst.

“Put your best fuck forward.” —Cletus Winston, Grin and Beard It by Penny Reid

“It’s how you’re always looking at me like you’re thinking about me. How you talk to me with so much respect and care. How you pitch in without me asking for help.”

My time with Hannah had taught me to seize the moment, stop overthinking, stop being so damn careful all the time. With Hannah, taking chances had felt compulsory—touching her, asking for what I wanted, putting my pride on the line—my body and heart had conspired, leaving no room for my brain to intercede and ruin things with caution.

This town is the last place I’ll ever want to be. But I want to figure out a way to visit if you are here.” My voice cracked this time and I cleared my throat so I could finish my thought. “I will come back for you, always.” My sister reached up and cupped my face, using her thumbs to wipe away my tears. “There you are.” She smiled at me fondly. “There’s my sweet brother. I’d wondered where you’d gone.”

But I didn’t want to be tough. I wanted to be soft.