Page 14 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
Ilinger out on the front porch of my childhood home, my eyes staring at the new front door. I haven’t been able to take another step towards it in the last two minutes.
It looks like they’ve added a new coat of white paint to the porch railing as well, and my mom’s hanging plants are as lush and long as ever. It’s no surprise to me, though. My parents have always been the type to keep things in tip-top shape, including their kids.
Truly, I don’t think they’re even trying to be seen as “pillars of the community” or anything like that. They just like things…put together. They carry themselves like that, and my brothers seem like the most put together people in town with their fancy jobs and nice houses.
Then, there’s me. Jumping from apartment to apartment. Working in the arts.
That doesn’t seem as impressive to them, but everything that I’ve done is a building block that will create something bigger and better that they just don’t see yet. They’re not creative people, and they’re pretty old school, so maybe they’ll never see it.
The thought eats away at me, but I push it aside and take another step forward.
The door suddenly opens, making me stumble backward as Andrew appears in the doorway. “Shit, you scared me.”
Andrew flashes me a confused look. “Why are you standing on the porch? Dinner is almost ready.”
“Why are you leaving? Are you fleeing?” I question him as I plant my hand on my hip.
Andrew smirks as realization hits him. “You can’t hide out here, Em. I just needed to get Dad’s level from my car.”
“Building something?” I ask him as I follow him to his black Lexus sedan that’s parked behind Ethan’s black BMW coupe. If the cars weren’t so nice, I’d roll my eyes.
“Stop using me as a distraction and go say hi to our parents,” Andrew replies as he leans into his backseat and grabs Dad’s bubble level.
I huff at him and storm back up the porch stairs. My brothers can have my back, but they can also toss me to the sharks too.
The savory smell of tomato-based pasta and garlic bread floats throughout the house, luring me through the living room toward the kitchen where I’m sure my mom made nearly everything from scratch. She has always been a really good cook.
“There she is,” Dad says as he sits at the dining table with Ethan, while Mom stirs the bubbling pasta sauce at the stove. He stands up and pulls me into a tight hug before kissing the side of my head.
Now that I’m closer, I notice more gray strands among his dark hair. A little prick of pain jabs me in the chest as I realize that they’re getting older. And I haven’t been here for it.
“Hey, Dad,” I reply as I hug him back, able to smell the familiar scent of his aftershave.
Mom puts her wooden spoon to the side, making sure not to drip sauce onto her quartz countertops. She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel before turning to me. “You look nice, honey.”
I glance down at the linen, collared shirt and black trousers that I wore to work today. “Thank you. Dinner smells good.”
Mom smiles and strides toward me, wrapping me in a hug. “I wish you would visit more now that you’re back home. We’re not strangers.”
I hold back a sigh as I hug her. I should’ve come by, but I know what direction our conversations typically head in. I’m just not in the mood for all of my life decisions to be questioned.
“I know. I’ve just been busy at work,” I tell her.
“You’ll have to tell us all about it,” Mom replies before nudging me toward the fridge. “Pull out the red wine and get some glasses for everyone.”
I do as she says without protest so that she can finish up dinner and bring everything out to the dining table. Once I sit down next to Andrew and across from Ethan and Mom, I happily accept a glass of red wine as my dad pours for everyone.
“Looks great, Mom,” Andrew tells her as he fixes himself a generous portion of eggplant parmesan.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite things you make,” Ethan adds as he follows suit, piling spaghetti noodles covered with a rich tomato sauce onto his plate.
I almost want to mouth “kiss ass” at them, but I keep my mouth shut and nod in agreement. It is a good dish.
“Your dad grilled the eggplant,” Mom says as she places her hand on his arm, giving him a loving smile.
Dad takes her hand and kisses the top of it. “I just do what I can to help.”
They’re a good match. It’s a shame that their three children are not as successful in the relationship department.
