Page 42 of Fluke
“What are you doing today, anyway?” I ask him.
“The truth?”
I grin.
“Staying the hell away from your mom and Banks,” he says.
I’m amused. “Banks is fun and games until he’s atyour house, huh?”
“For fuck’s sake, Jess. The boy is relentless. I don’t know what time he got there this morning, but I come out of the bathroom with a towel on. It’s supposed to just be your mom and me there at eight o’clock, so I didn’t bother to really hide my junk behind the fabric, you know? And I round the corner into the kitchen and he’s sitting at the counter eating a bowl of cereal.”
I don’t even try to hide my laughter.
“It’s not funny,” Dad says, chuckling. “Dammit. What did I do wrong with that one?”
“You weren’t hard enough on him. Foxx and Moss and I had rules. Curfews. You had expectations of us. Maddox and Banks drank straight from the milk jugs.”
Dad grimaces.
I lean against a drawer-less cabinet. “What’s Mom up to today?”
He puts a foot on a low rung of a ladder and sighs. “Honestly? Nothing. She hasn’t done a damn thing to get on my nerves. But sometimes in marriage you just need space. You gotta get the hell away from the other person for a while.”
“Fair.”
“You’ll find out someday. Just remember that you’re not as great as you probably think you are, and your wife will get sick of you just like you’re sick of her. Space is your friend.”
“I hope you’re telling this to Maddox. He’s your married son.”
Dad shakes his head, but I see the pride in his eyes.
All Dad wanted out of us kids was for us to grow up and be good people. Your word meant something around our house. Making the right decisions didn’t mean choosing the easiest route. We didn’t have to do anything perfectly, nor were we expected to be angels—which is a good thing or most of us would’ve failed big time—but we must be respectful and polite, or we’d come to regret it.
They wanted us all to grow up and live a good life and be happy. And, so far, we all are. But I know that when Dad looks at Maddox and Moss and sees them settling down with women who are good and kind, that makes him proud. It’s validation, I imagine.
I just hope one day I can join my brothers in that camp.
“What about you?” Dad asks. “You seeing anyone?”
“Well, I was a pretty great wife.”
I smile. “Nah. I’m not seeing anyone these days.”
“You aren’t getting any younger, you know that?”
“Fuck you too.”
Dad laughs. “You know what I mean.”
Yeah, I do.
I walk around the kitchen and pick up empty water bottles and broken nails.
The more I see of my brothers and their lives now, the more something snips at the back of my brain, telling me that would be nice.
The truth is that I can imagine myself coming home and having dinner with someone. Spending my Saturdays at the farmers’ markets or rearranging furniture for the thousandth time. Taking my family to church early on Sunday morning and sitting beside my brothers and their families.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t want that. I was sure I’d never have a wife or even want one.
