Page 35 of Tyrant

I sweep the dishes off the table after our family dinner. Raiden has been busy with club stuff that he won’t tell me about. He’s here first thing in the morning and back in the evening, always for dinner and he stays late. He demanded that I tell him if I was fed up with cooking and cleaning and being the rock here during the day, but I promised he’d never hear a complaint from me. I don’t mind making breakfast, lunch, and dinner. At least it’s something I can do.

“Can I help you?” Raiden tries to shoot out of his seat, but I wave him off. “I like washing up, but if you want to take Penny to the bathroom and help her wash her face, that would be amazing.”

“Sure thing.” Raiden hoists Penny up in his arms. “Come on, Penster. You look like you’re wearing half of your dinner.”

“Spaghetti is messy!” she protests but she giggles.

“Sure is.”

“You have sauce on your nose.”

“I do?”

“Yup.”

“I better wash up too then.”

“It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

I practically melt over at the sink. I wanted my brother to know Penny. I knew he’d love being an uncle. I was always so torn, but at least that part of me was fifty-fifty. I feel more like I ninety percent made the wrong choice, and knowing I came back when it was almost too late, is hard to bear.

I had harsh words last week with Gray about being overprotective even when he was trying to help. I was shocked that he’d so easily confess to murder.I’ve heard things, but that confession straight out of his mouth rocked the foundations of me. I’ve been vacillating between anger, grief, guilt, horror, and the need to apologize for being so hypocritical. It’s not lost on me that the very things I accused him of are things I have done.

I controlled our lives and shaped our future when I judged him and found him wanting. I started a new life without him, and okay, that might not be murder, but it was my own form of court, sentencing, and justice.

“I think I’m going it sit outside for a bit.”

My mom’s weak voice, crackling like thin paper, startles me at the sink. My hands are dripping water and soap, and I don’t even remember filling it to wash up. I was always quiet and introspective, but lately the way I’ve been disappearing into myself is starting to scare me.

“Sure.” Mom doesn’t need a lecture about resting or not being strong enough. She has a nice lawn chair out there. We’d all rather that she spends her time surrounded by beauty than in that converted room, hazy and in pain, probably afraid though she would never admit it. “Let me help you.”

She stands so shakily that I rush across the kitchen. She grasps the edge of the wooden table and pulls her cane into her other hand and waves me off. “No, honey, that’s fine. I’m okay.”

“Let Dad walk you out then?”

He’s already standing, the same lost and helpless expression on his face that he’s been wearing perpetually since I got home. He looks like a little kid, scared and in need of care.

She sees that too and nods, letting him take her arm. There are steps off the back deck, just a few and not steep, but I feel better watching them go out the patio door together and make their way over to the lounger chair heaped high with cushions and blankets at the far side of the yard.

My eyes flood with tears, blurring all the magnificent colors together.

“Mommy, can I go outside?” Penny races back into the kitchen and throws herself at my waist. She holds on tight, and I stroke her fine hair.

“Okay. But Grandma just wants to sit quietly. Is that alright?”

“Yup. I won’t run or scream.”

“If you ask, you could probably sit with her. I think she’d really like that. Seeing you and knowing you makes her so happy.”

Raiden kneels down at Penny’s level. He’s like a grizzly in his black t-shirt and nearly worn-out jeans compared to her. “Want me to come too?”

She picks up his silver chain and runs her fingers over it. That little action, so simple and innocent, makes my heart arrest in my chest. Gray wears a similar chain, a little chunkier, that he tucks into his t-shirts. It was a constant fantasy of mine when I was younger to think about picking out that metal, warm from his skin, and running my fingers back and forth over it.

Everything Gray did was a fantasy for me when I was younger.

Raiden takes Penny out, closing the door quietly behind him. I watch my family from the kitchen sink while I tackle the mound of dishes. I forgot how cooking for so many people uses up every pot and pan, plate and cup in the house. I hated the chore of dishes when I was younger, but as an adult? There’s just something contemplative and methodically easy about scrubbing, cleaning, rinsing, and stacking. Maybe I’m like my dad. Every little thing I can do to feel useful is at least something.

Eventually, my dad and Raiden leave Penny and my mom outside and troop back in. The table has already been cleaned off and I wiped it down before I started washing up.

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