Page 2 of It’s Only Love

Sometimes, I wish I could be more like Dennis. I’ve always been kind of socially awkward, I guess, but it’s gotten worse after Dad died, with me keeping to myself a lot more at school. That’s why I love Aaron and his family. I can just be Mike, whatever that means.

I swing by the kitchen and grab the plate of snickerdoodles, then bound up the stairs.

Aaron lights up the moment he sees me in the doorway to his room. “Oh, thank fuck! Dude, will you please tell the Menace that Mario Kart isn’t life.”

“I know it’s not life .” Dennis grins at his brother.

“Snickerdoodles are!” He cackles and dives nearly face-first into the plate of cookies as soon as I place it on the floor between them.

In the blink of an eye, he stuffs three of them into his mouth, crumbs spilling everywhere as his eyes roll into his head, and he smacks his lips.

“You’re fucking gross, Denny.” Aaron frowns, handing me a controller.

I grab it as I sit down next to him, the familiar plastic cool against my fingers.

I exhale, my back resting against Aaron’s bed.

Relaxing my body, I inhale the distinct smell of laundry detergent wafting from Aaron’s T-shirt and the cinnamon from the cookies .

“Twis twaco night,” Dennis mumbles, shifting a large piece of snickerdoodle from one side of his mouth to the other. His deep brown eyes beam at me, his face covered in cookie crumbs, already blissed out from the sugar rush.

“Jesus,” Aaron groans as he starts a new game, turning his head toward me. “What Menace is trying to say is that it’s taco night. You’re staying, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, man. Mrs. Winston brought over another casserole.” Aaron and Dennis wince simultaneously, scrunching their noses.

“Tuna?” Aaron doesn’t even bother to hide the repulsion in his voice.

I sigh. “Probably.”

“But it’s taco night,” Dennis drawls, licking his lips, a crumb of cookie stuck to his upper lip. “You gotta stay, Mike.” Then the little goof bats his dark eyelashes at me.

“Lay off, Denny. That shit may work with Mom, but not Mike.” Aaron sucker punches him, and Dennis pretends to tumble over, rolling around on the floor, whining as if he’s been stabbed instead.

“You broke my arm, dude,” he complains.

“Shut it.” Aaron scowls at him, but I can hear the edge of fondness and laughter in his voice.

“I really gotta try to get Mom to eat something,” I say, dropping the controller in my lap, brushing my hands through my hair.

I need a haircut. Shit, I need new jeans, too.

The ones that I’m wearing, along with the others that Mom got for me at the beginning of summer, are all either too short or too tight.

As much as I want things to go back to the beginning of summer when Dad was still alive and Mom wasn’t broken, I can’t, and my changing body is a constant reminder of that.

You can’t stop time. Life waits for no one, not even when your heart is broken in too many places to count.

“Are you still sad, Mike?” Dennis asks tentatively.

“ Duuude !” Aaron hisses. I’ve been drifting again, which I do often now.

I just zone out as life goes on around me.

It happens at school, too, but so far the teachers have been nice about it.

Dad was, after all, coaching some of the teachers’ kids in Little League after school.

He never gave me shit for choosing football despite baseball being his game. He never gave me shit about anything.

“Nah, it’s okay.” I throw Aaron a shrug before turning in Dennis’ direction.

He’s looking at me all wide-eyed, his bottom lip protruding slightly.

“Yeah, I’m still a little sad, Den.” And then he says it, but somehow it’s different when the words come from Dennis’ mouth.

It’s the way he says them, along with the warmth pooling in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry your dad died, Mike. I really liked him a lot.”

“Den! What the hell? What did I just tell you this morning?!” Aaron seethes, his cheeks growing bright pink.

“Sorry… I just want Mike to know we miss his dad, too,” Dennis murmurs, looking at the floor, his eyes watering.

“It’s okay, squirt.” I ruffle his hair because it is okay.

Because Dennis isn’t sorry for me. I can tell he doesn’t pity me.

He’s sorry with me because he adored Dad, too.

My dad wasn’t one of those grown-ups who would brush you off or tell you ‘ maybe later, kid’ when later always meant never . He was fun, kind, and he saw you.

“Hey! I’m not a squirt,” Dennis whines. “I grew a whole inch this summer.” He pouts, puffing out his slim chest, wearing a white T-shirt with a faded green dinosaur that was a hand-me-down from me.

“Liar,” Aaron coughs, rolling his eyes .

“I’m not lying!” Dennis protests, his voice high and shrill. Then, a devilish glimmer forms in his brown eyes. “You’re the one who’s lying when you say you don’t have a crush on Melissa Warner. ”

I can’t help but chuckle because I know for a fact that Aaron has had the crush of all crushes on Melissa throughout middle school.

“Take that back, you little shit!” Aaron yells, his cheeks no longer pink but scarlet instead.

“Nope!” Dennis gets up, flipping him off. “Never!”

“You’re gonna get it now, Denny! I’m gonna kick your ass.” Aaron reaches for Dennis’ ankle, stopping him from bolting out the door. He stumbles to his knees, tripping, while looking at me with desperation in his eyes.

I’m full-on laughing by now, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Because Aaron threatening to kick Dennis’ ass is a daily occurrence at the Holbrook residence, and somehow there’s comfort in that. While my life’s in shambles, in this house, everything stays the same.

“Miiike! Help!” Dennis claws at my jeans, an ‘oh shit’ expression on his face. “Don’t let him get me!” His pleas ring through the room before they spill over into giggles when Aaron starts tickling him.

Within seconds, I’m right there with them as we spin off into a tornado of arms and legs and laughter.

Dennis squeals when I accidentally dig my elbow into his ribs, and Aaron cackles when I fart and stink up the room.

We lose track of time until Mrs. Holbrook suddenly yells, “Boys, dinner! Go wash up!”

We come up for air, forgetting who was fighting whom and what we were fighting about. And as taco dinner turns into movie night and later a sleepover, I forget about my life for just a while.

Mr. Holbrook calls Mrs. Winston, asking her to check in on Mom for the night before he goes looking for an extra pair of pajamas for me.

I don’t usually wear pajamas anymore because I always wake up bathed in sweat from nightmares, the recurring image of Dad lying dead in his truck haunting me.

But at the Holbrooks’ house, I never have nightmares, so I accept the pajamas.

With Aaron on one side of me on the couch and Dennis on the other, his head resting against my shoulder, snoring softly, I watch Rick and Morty go on an adventure to Atlantis before Aaron’s mom sends us off to bed.

And I forget. I forget about everything, and I’m just Mike.