Page 21 of If I See You Again

Malcolm

B y the time we’d polished off the pizza and salad, cleaned everything up, and then made our way to bed, Mom and Dad hadn’t come home yet. Normally, I’d worry, but now more than ever, I was convinced they’d been staying away intentionally.

After lying in bed for thirty minutes, headlights illuminated the bedroom window that faced out toward the driveway. Car doors opened and closed, followed by hushed voices making their way into the house.

David had dozed off quickly, and I itched to climb out of the covers and confront my parents about their meddling, but in a way, I was thankful they’d stuck their noses into my business. Without them, today wouldn’t have happened.

Instead of continuing to dwell on things, I rolled over, closed my eyes, and fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in a long time.

T he smell of coffee and something sweet filled the air as I awoke. David was already sitting up, rubbing the sleep from those dreamy blue eyes of his. Maybe that had been what had woken me up, him moving around.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

I snorted. There was nothing attractive about me in the mornings. My hair always stuck up in weird directions, and unless I trimmed my facial hair, it grew patchy in places. For that very reason, I kept it shaved most of the time.

“You’ve already won me over. There’s no need to keep trying to flatter me.”

David’s warm chuckle made those little butterflies kick up in my gut, swirling around until I felt a little nauseous.

If there was anyone who was beautiful, it was him.

His thick blond beard had grown thicker over the last couple of days, and it was strange that it was my favorite part about him.

It made him seem softer, more friendly. Less like a severe businessman.

We climbed out of bed, pulling on T-shirts and pajama pants before making our way down to the kitchen. Mom had a full spread for breakfast once more. It was shocking, since she still had to make everything for dinner. Then again, she’d always gone over the top.

“Good morning, Dana,” David said as he wrapped her in a hug and then helped himself to a mug from the cupboard to pour himself some coffee. What was that? Why did it feel so good that he looked so comfortable in my childhood home?

Mom loaded up two giant cinnamon rolls onto plates and ushered us to the small table. There wasn’t as much room to eat this morning because she had all her cooking supplies spread out in preparation for the big meal.

“Now, I don’t know what your favorite Thanksgiving food is, David, but I do my best to make a little of everything.

I’m a big turkey person, but Timothy always liked ham more.

We compromised and always made both. As far as side dishes, we should have some dressing, green bean casserole, Brussels sprouts, cranberry sauce, croissant rolls, mashed potatoes, gravy, salad… ” Mom trailed off.

“That sounds like a ton of food,” David said around a mouthful of pastry.

Mom hummed. “It is, and that’s not even including what everyone else is bringing. I hope you have a big stomach.”

My eyes widened as I took a bite of my own, hurrying to swallow so that I could talk. “Mom, I thought you said it was only a couple of people.”

“It is! Your aunt and uncle, cousins, and the neighbors. Then one of my co-workers mentioned that her little family wasn’t doing anything, so I invited them as well…”

I rubbed at my temples, already feeling the headache coming on.

She meant well. Dana Fisher would never let a family or a person be by themselves for a holiday.

When I looked around the kitchen again, the sheer amount of food made more sense.

It was a lot. I couldn’t even remember a time when she’d made so much.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, finishing up my breakfast and grabbing David’s plate as he finished his.

“Oh, nonsense. You boys go out and watch the parade. Or the football game. Whatever. Leave the cooking to me.”

When Marcus and I were kids, we’d always helped in the kitchen, but after he’d died, Mom had started insisting that we leave her alone. Maybe it brought up too many memories, but it also made things hard for me. I wanted to still have that time with her.

I did my best not to let the disappointment show as I brewed myself a cup of coffee and took it out into the living room where Dad had already planted himself on the couch in front of the TV. The football game wouldn’t be on until later, so he was fine with having the parade on.

David sat close to me, his thigh against mine, as people in colorful costumes filled the TV screen. They sang and danced, but all I could focus on was the man at my side. What did this morning look like for him normally?

“David?” My voice shook a little as I asked, and it was sort of stupid. We should get to know each other. We’d jumped headfirst into bed, and I barely knew anything about the man.

“What’s up?” He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, and I watched, transfixed, as he took a sip and then leaned forward to place his cup on the coffee table.

“Are there any traditions with your family? This is very usual for us, but I’d hate to ignore anything that you’d rather be doing.”

David chuckled, sinking back into the couch cushions. Dad seemed to ignore our conversation.

“Not really. My mother isn’t much of a cook. Dad isn’t either. It didn’t mean that they didn’t try. There’s always a lot of arguing in the kitchen. Then my sister will bring home whatever flavor of the week she’s dating, and that causes more fights…”

Not everyone was lucky to have an easy and happy home life. I had to remember that.

“So I take it you don’t have a big family sit-down meal.”

That earned me another laugh. “Oh no, we do. Mom overcooks the turkey every year, and I’d rather eat leather. We eat it because she tried, and no one complains because the one year Dad tried to say something, you can guess what happened.”

“More fighting.”

“Bingo.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like an enjoyable holiday.”

David shrugged before picking up his coffee again. “It wasn’t so bad. At least I always had a good story to tell. Who almost murdered who that year.”

That was the first time I realized my dad had been paying attention. His laugh was full-bellied as he wiped at his face. “Shit, son. I’m sorry. You won’t have none of that here. We mostly get along. I think the only time we ever had anyone unhappy was the year…”

When he trailed off, I knew what he was referring to. The only year that there’d been tension at the table was the first year Marcus wasn’t there. Even when he’d been so sick, we’d done our best to be a happy family.

What a damn joke.

That year hadn’t been all that happy either…

the one before that as well. Maybe we’d all just put on a good face and tried pretending our entire world wasn’t falling apart.

In our heads, we wanted to look back and only remember the good times, but I knew the truth.

The dark lurked around every corner. Mom and Dad hadn’t noticed the weight loss.

How Marcus had seemed so damn tired all the time, but I’d seen it all. I’d felt it all.

“Malcolm?”

I startled at my name, turning wide eyes to David. “I’m sorry, what?”

His smile was weak. “You sort of just zoned out there. Did you want to get dressed and go for a walk or something?”

It was the best suggestion he’d had all morning. There was a reason I’d been avoiding spending too much time at my parents’ house. Too many memories haunted it. The reality was, I was on my own without my brother for the rest of my life.