Page 5 of For The Weekend
“I also don’t wantyouto be hurt because sometimes people are judgmental and not so nice. I don’t want other people hurting your feelings because they judge you for cursing.”
“What does judgmental mean?” Mazie asks, and Taryn motions to all of us in answer.
“Some people might look at your dad and think he’s not very nice.” I assume she’s referring to my height, build, hair, tattoos...general demeanor. I don’t exactly blend in most places. “They might judge him because of what he looks like, and that’s never a good thing. Should we ever judge people or treat them mean because they look different from us?” When Mazie shakes her head, Taryn nods. “You’re right. We absolutely should not be mean to people because of how they look or talk, but it still happens. A lot of people will still be mean and judge others. And until you’re a little bit older, I think we should work on not cursing, so people don’t think mean things about you, okay?”
“Okay,” Mazie agrees.
I dip my chin in thanks to Taryn before Ian pumps his fist in the air. “Well fucking said.”
I roll my eyes, only to realize I’ve unconsciously closed the distance, along with Ian. The four of us close together.
Leaving Griffin still standing straight-backed like a soldier at the door. I turn to fully face him, finally meeting his gaze since he’s removed his hat. His eyes are the same brown as mine. We all share them, dark brown eyes like Mom.
My brother—the one who I know holds a lot of resentmenttoward me…not so undeservedly—makes an assessment of me, top to bottom. Though I would never admit it out loud, Griffin makes me feel worst of all. Because he’s the good guy. Former military and current first responder. He literally sacrifices himself every day and always does the right thing.
And I haven’t. I’ve never done the right things. Never made good choices.
At least, until now.
“You don’t judge a person by what they look like,” Griffin says to no one in particular, his voice steady and low. “You judge them by their actions.”
It’s a deliberate shot at me. He has every right to be angry, and while my first instinct is to fight back, I don’t, because this is all part of the process. Being here in person, listening to what they have to say.
Might as well get started.
“I, uh…” I scratch the back of my head. “I made some coffee.”
“Ooh!” Mazie hops up. “Can I have cookies?”
When I nod my answer, she runs to the kitchen, the four of us following. I sold off a lot before moving here, packing only the essentials, including a handful of kitchenware. When Taryn notices the coffee mugs I retrieve from the cabinet, she freezes.
I set three of the ceramic stonewashed cups on the counter. “I bought them from your shop a few years ago.”
She picks one up, eyes drifting between it and me. “I… I didn’t think…”
Think I knew she made pottery? That I cared she sold it online?
Either answer is shitty, and I don’t want to be the person she expects. I want to be better. “You do good work.”
Surprise raises her brows, but she accepts my words with anod. Then she helps herself to coffee and finding milk in the refrigerator. Mazie asks her for a glass before going on and on about the best way to eat cookies. It’s by dunking the whole thing in milk first.
Ian pulls up a chair next to my daughter, easily falling into conversation with her, allowing Mazie to ask him questions about why his hair is gray, if he is as strong as “my daddy,” and when she can meet her cousins.
He answers them all patiently. His hair is gray because only the best-looking men have gray hair. He is stronger than her daddy—absolutely not. And she’ll be able to meet her cousins soon.
Once she finishes her cookies, I tell her to go into the living room to watch television, and she happily zips off, leaving me to face my brothers and sister alone.
“So…”
They stare at me for a long moment, and then the rapid fire begins all at once.
“What the hell is going on?’
“You boughtthishouse?”
“Why didn’t you tell us about Mazie?”
“Do you have a job?”
