Page 24

TYLER

CHILDISH LAUGHTER ANDbarks, followed by shushing and more giggles, awakened me the next morning. Momentarily confused, I finally remembered the gentle touch that offered comfort and care throughout the night. I rolled on my back and absorbed the happy sounds. It was a pleasant way to wake up. It sounded good. It sounded right. This house was meant to have a family reside within its walls. It was meant to allow the residents to love and grow within its safe harbor from the storms of life as it had my grandparents. Instead, it housed me: a man tarnished by the example of his parents and too chicken shit to admit what he truly wished for, knowing he followed too closely on the same path as them.

But just for a moment, I allowed myself to pretend it was real; pretend it was mine.

Cautiously, I sat up. The stomach cramps had subsided overnight, and I hadn’t thrown up since Jen had found me huddled in the bathroom. More giggles sounded from downstairs. Curiosity and the feeling of being left out got the better of me. As I stood, I noticed the bottles of liquid Jen had brought up throughout the night were gone, as was the trashcan she had found and lined with a heavy bag so I didn’t have to run to the bathroom if I felt sick. She’d obviously checked on me once more this morning. I must have been asleep. But the other couple of times she’d checked on me, I’d woken up. Not because of any noise she made, but more because of unconscious awareness of her presence. I had played possum, watching through a slit in my eyes as she tiptoed across the room to straighten my covers and make sure I still had a supply of liquid so I didn’t dehydrate. Once she had even tenderly brushed her fingers through my hair. I was surprised when she had appeared in my bathroom last night. I hadn’t expected her to stay, much less be so attentive.

I splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth in a hurry so I didn’t miss more of whatever was happening in the kitchen. I followed the noise and delicious smell of frying bacon down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jen had some popular music playing and was standing at the counter pouring batter onto a griddle. I paused to watch her move to the beat, her hips swaying. I hadn’t had a real home cooked meal in this kitchen since my grandmother had died. Briefly I allowed myself to envision what it would be like to have this every day.

“Uncle Tyler! Are you all better?” Aiden jumped up from the floor where he was rubbing Holly’s tummy.

I scooped him up for a hug. “Yeah, buddy. Mostly back to new, but no more Chinese food for a while, eh?”

Aiden nodded. “I knew Aunt Jen would make you feel better. You always smile more when she’s around.”

Did I? Was it so obvious that even a child noticed? A slight cough near the stove drew my attention. Jen turned away as soon as I looked at her. I put Aiden down and walked over to the stove. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back to me. She stiffened slightly, but I kissed the top of her head anyway. “Thank you,” I said. “You did make a difference. You’d make a good nurse.”

Her posture relaxed, and her smile appeared genuine. “You’re welcome. I’m glad to see you feeling better.”

I moved back to the table. I enjoyed seeing so much life in my kitchen. “Pancakes?” I asked, unable to hide my hopeful tone.

Much to Aiden’s delight, Jen skillfully flipped a pancake from the skillet into the air and caught in on a plate. She placed two pieces of bacon beside it and set it in front of Aiden before turning to me. “Not for you. You shouldn’t have something so rich after being so sick to your stomach.” She reached for another plate and scooped something out of a pan onto my plate before presenting me with a small pile of scrambled eggs and lightly toasted bread. “Taadaa!”

She laughed as I stared morosely from my plate to Aiden’s. “Relax, Doc. I made extra pancakes that you can warm up tomorrow if you’re up to it.”

I nodded and smiled at her.But it won’t be the same without you in my kitchen. Sighing, I took a seat and sampled the eggs, surprised by the fusion of flavors that flooded my mouth. I glanced up at Jen, who was watching with a grin.

“I said you shouldn’t have anything rich. I didn’t say it had to be flavorless.”

I was already shoveling in more. “Thank you,” I said between bites. “What about you? Aren’t you joining us?”

She hesitated, then fixed a plate of golden pancakes for herself. She sat next to Aiden. I watched them, and I suddenly recognized what Alex had been talking about when he said his life felt complete. All my life I had done what made other people happy, but I never felt any sense of real satisfaction. As I grew older, I realized it was because I wasn’t doing it for myself. Then in one awful moment, everything changed, a moment I could never reclaim, never fix, never apologize for. Everything I had done hadn’t mattered in the end. So I decided to live for myself, making choices that I would have never chosen before, some reckless, some with confidence, but all selfish as I saw it. And selfish didn’t have a responsible role in any relationship, so I kept all my relationships surface level, I never allowing anyone to get close. The only exceptions had been Alex and Brandon. And with them came Mia and much later, Aiden. But my friends had known me before everything in my life went to hell, and they never challenged my decisions. When Mia and Brandon had died, it left a huge hole, but not as much as it did for Alex. I had no reservations stepping up to support Alex in his new role as a dad. When it became obvious Kayla was the real thread to stitch them together, I stepped back, and now I included her amongst those few souls I’d do anything for. And I was happy.

Or so I thought.

The beautiful, sassy-mouthed spitfire made me question my choices. Not that it mattered. She’d made her decision, and I wasn’t going to play a role other than in some phantom friendship. Sitting with her at my table, I realized how empty my life was. Awesome cars, casual women, and the freedom to come and go as I chose weren’t as fulfilling as it once was.

Aiden left to watch some TV show he liked, and Jen began to clear the table. “I’ll do it,” I told her.

“I don’t mind. You should rest, even though you’re feeling better. I’ll just clean up and get out of your hair.”

“No, I’ll do it later. But I would like to get a shower. Will you wait ‘til I’m done?”

She nodded.

I left the kitchen but turned back at the bottom of the stairs to see her staring at me. She smiled encouragingly. “I won’t make a coffee run, I promise.”

Feeling almost back to normal after my shower, I took a few moments to make my bed and pick up my dirty clothes. As I dropped a dirty shirt into the hamper, I froze as piano notes resonated up the stairs from the living room. The notes were played haltingly, but I still recognized the low, haunting melody of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a piece with which I was very familiar but had not heard in years. In my mind, I saw each stroke on the keyboard, cringing when the playing fingers struck a wrong key or faltered in the rhythm. Memories of a gentle voice guiding the young fingers of a little boy attempting to make the teacher proud with the same tune came slamming back. I shook my head, trying to disrupt the voice. Today was not a day I wanted to deal with those memories. Not that any day was. Warily, I made my way down the stairs toward the large black grand piano in the corner of the living room.

Jen looked up when she saw me, a large grin lighting up her face. “Do you play, or is this just a large, pretentious decoration?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, that’s a shame. It’s a beautiful instrument. A Steinway! Do you know how expensive they are?” Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, I mean, of course, you do. You have one.” She smiled wryly at me. “I’m sorry. That was extremely tactless.”

I chuckled as I sat on the piano bench next to her, my numbness thawing at her enthusiasm. “It was my mom’s.”

She paused and smiled sympathetically. “It must be very special to you, then.” She struck a few more keys, then turned to face me. “So what’s up with this house? I mean, it’s beautiful, but it seems like a lot for one person. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just . . .” She tipped her head toward the ceiling and closed her eyes. “There I go again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her fingers in her lap fidgeted as she gave a small laugh.