Page 10 of Mismatched

He turns to me, eyes softening. “Your mom’s hardly been gone a week, son. Give your heart some room to heal before you ask a lot of your brain. Why don’t you take the rest of today and clear your head? You can let me know where you’re at in a day or two.”

The door closes with a soft thud and I turn to look around my office. The desk, view, and art on the walls ought to feel familiar, comfortable. The way my mom’s house should have. But just like back home, everything here feels like it belongs to someone else. Or I’m in the wrong room.

My laptop sits on the desk, containing files I might dig into this afternoon, but even though I meant what I said to Carl—I want him to know he can count on me—I have zero inclination to sit down and get started.

Out the window, my usually stunning view of the city and mountain backdrop is gradually being obscured by a weather system rolling in from up north. The sun being quietly blocked out behind a sky of clouds so dense I can’t even see the peaks of the mountains. It would be a perfect day for a trail run. Maybe a bike ride. And now my feet are itching to take off somewhere and try to gather my scattered thoughts.

There’s another knock on the door, and Milo pokes his head in. “Hey, Anton. Thought I’d check in and see if you need to be brought up to speed. Do you want to go over the Alvarez account?”

Deep inside, part of me is pissed to see him. But all I manage to do is turn away, glancing out the window again before I grab my phone and keys off the desk. Maybe Carl is right and I should at least take the afternoon.

I walk past him and mutter, “I’ll be back.”

I wind up taking my bike down the Cherry Creek Trail. All the way south to the reservoir where the path literally ends, or I might’ve kept going. There aren’t a lot of people out on a Monday morning, and I ride fast both ways. Pushing my legs, and my lungs, to the limit. It feels like if I can just go fast enough, far enough, I could catch up to something. Except I don’t know what. And every time I slow, my thoughts flood in, threatening to drag me down.

My mom is at the forefront, of course. It’s like my mind was holding on to all these little details that somehow released upon her death. Things I haven’t thought about in years. How she always sipped coffee from a yellow smiley face mug. The way she tried not to sound mad even when she was. How she came to every sporting event Seth and I competed in. And in less vivid color, there are memories of her and Dad. The two of them dancing quietly in the kitchen when they thought I was asleep. The way her eyes shone when she looked at him. The similar, wistful look she got when she smiled at Lydia and me.

The clouds that gathered and swirled over Denver earlier have now moved east to wreak havoc over the plains, taking the barrier to the July heat with them. Just so no one in the city can forget it’s the dead of summer. I’m dripping sweat by the time I roll my bike into the garage, so mentally and physically exhausted I just want to stand under a cold shower. Maybe toss a ball for Heartthrob. But as soon as I step through the door into our quiet kitchen, I remember he’s with Lydia.

My heart sinks, footsteps echoing through the empty house until, blessedly, my phone rings.

“Seth,” I say with a relieved sigh.

“Hey, man. I just finished with the realtor and wanted to touch base. Gonna move everything that’s left here into storage, give it a coat of paint, then stage this place. Should have it on the market by end of the week.”

“You can’t use the furniture that’s there?” I ask, with surprising irritation.

“Not unless I want buyers taking a mental trip down Millennial Lane. I got a big fat no from Chandra on the shabby chic living room.” He pauses, and I can almost hear him smirking over the phone. “Although I did get several loud yeses out of her on the bedroom set.”

I roll my eyes. Apparently feelings about our mom are not interfering with Seth’s personal life.

“How soon did she think it would sell?”

“Eh, the market’s not what it was. But we’re pricing it right and it helps that I did those updates in the bathroom. Could be a few months, I guess.”

I put the phone on speaker, letting his voice fill the kitchen while I dig through the pantry for lasagna noodles and tomato sauce. My brother has often been the bearer of bad news, but when I think of him being here, so close, it perks me up. “Just move as soon as it’s listed. There’s no reason to stay in Dallas.”

He snorts. “Your couch is comfy, but I’m not going anywhere until Bruno and I both have a place to land.”

“Fine. Come out to visit and we’ll go apartment hunting. I know some pet-friendly places we could look at.”

“What’s the rush, Anton?” he needles. “It’s almost like you miss me.”

“Not really,” I say. “I just promised Mom I’d keep an eye on your ass.”

He chuckles again, but then his voice thickens. “You know, she told me to do the same thing.”

We both get quiet.

“How you doing, big brother?” he finally asks in a different tone.

“Seth. Do me a favor and worry about the cat.”

“I mean it,” he says. “I was here dealing with every phase after her diagnosis, and I don’t know, somehow that kept me sane. But you didn’t get that process. Or the closure.”

“That’s... that’s not it.” I drop into a chair, the corners of my eyes burning. “Do you remember anything about when Dad died?”

He hesitates. “A little. Maybe the service and some people visiting.”

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