by Lori L. Otto
“Fuck, no!” I exclaim at the mere suggestion of it, then realize what I just said to my mother-in-law. “Sorry.”
“That language doesn’t bother me,” she says. “Or, one of your daughters is playing in the makeup again, I was going to add.”
“It’s Liv’s.”
“I understand if you’re not ready. I remember when Nate died, they washed up all of my sheets while I was still in the hospital. I’d hoped to… smell him again, feel his presence or something in the linens or when I laid my head on my pillow. I was crushed to smell the fresh detergent.”
“The girls have been sleeping in here…” I shrug my shoulders. “I can’t smell her on the pillow anymore. But I still have her shampoo… and perfume. I take a whiff of those all the time.”
“How about I wash up all the linens? Yours and the girls’ sheets. Then you can all sleep in your own beds tonight. I mean, really… Luca’s probably going to sleep in his bassinet in here anyway, don’t you think? The girls don’t want to wake up to him crying all night.”
“I’ve washed Edie’s and Willow’s sheets, hoping they’d go back to their beds. I think it’ll definitely take Luca to get them to do that. But… yeah, let’s wash the sheets.”
“Okay,” she says, squeezing my arm in a mothering way. I strip the bed for her, shaking away thoughts of Livvy watching me as I made the bed a couple of days before she died. She hated wrinkles in the bottom sheet and wasn’t shy about pointing them out to me. I realize it’s one of the reasons the bed hasn’t seemed so comforting lately. It’s not only her absence, or the presence of two squirmy little girls. I’m not making the bed every day–not straightening out the wrinkles. She was right. There is a difference.
When I look up, Jack’s standing in the doorway, holding a framed object that’s facing away from me. I hand Emi the linens, and she pats his arm on the way out. I glance down, curious, as he nods to the mattress, suggesting we take a seat.
“Where’s Luca?” I ask.
“Trey and Coley have him. He finished his bottle, he’s been burped… he’s good.”
“Okay.”
“He’s perfect,” he says with a plaintive smile. “Now, before I give this to you, I have to explain.” He clears his throat. “It’s a painting.”
I stand up and begin to pace. “There’s enough going on today to bring me to tears, Jack. Maybe seeing a new piece of her art could wait a few days.”
“It’s not hers.” He waves me back. “It’s nothing like hers, I can guarantee that.” He’s laughing to himself. “Remember that day when she taught at Nate’s Art Room? Well, I painted with Edie… and it’s horrible; truly, I am not artistically inclined in any way, but… my Contessa, she saw it, and she said she loved it.” He closes his eyes to stave off tears.
“Well, shit, Jack. You’re gonna make me cry.”
“I’m trying not to. I just…” He places a painting in my lap; how he expected me to not become emotional is a mystery. Sure, it looks like a painting Willow may have done when she was five–a stick figure family–but it’s my family. My whole family, if there ever was such a thing. “I added to it since that day. I’d only done the top row in class, but I painted your brothers and their families down here.”
I haven’t even made it to the bottom row. I’m stuck on the image of the dark-haired woman holding a baby, standing in between two little girls, one who’s standing beside a man who’s supposed to be me. “Damn it, Jack.”
“How was I supposed to know?” His voice is only a whisper.
“How could anyone know?”
He picks up the Kleenex off my nightstand and hands me a couple before taking one for himself.
“Livvy wanted to hang it in here,” he says. “If you don’t, then… you can do with it what you will, but she wanted to have it.”
“I want her to have it. I want to have it,” I state. “And yeah, I’ll hang it in here.”
He produces the necessary tools. “Where would you like it? I’ll hang it right now.”
I smile and set it aside so I can give him a hug. “Thank you. How about… right over the headboard? She was going to paint something there someday, but… this will be all I’ll ever need.”
“Consider it done.”
Max, Callen, Will and Shea all show up together just before seven, and the whole apartment is swarming with chaotic conversation. Normally, I’d be in the thick of it, but it feels strange without Livvy jumping in with her sassy comebacks or arguing with Will about something or other. Ordinarily, she would whisk Coley and Shea upstairs for some girl time, but there’s no one to do that anymore. I hope they feel comfortable enough in my home to go upstairs and get away from all the guy talk, but I don’t want to make it weird by saying something about it. I don’t want to point out the fact that Liv’s not here, just in case other people aren’t dwelling on it like I am.
While I’m overthinking that, Will comes over and takes a seat next to me at the kitchen island.
“You’re hogging the baby. I’d like to hold him,” he says.
“Really?” I ask, looking down at Luca, who’s alert and swaddled in my arms at the moment. He’d just had another bottle and seemed to be drunken with contentedness ever since.
“Yeah. We bonded. Plus, Shea really hasn’t had much time with him, and I know she wants to get to know him.”
“Well? Here you go, Uncle Will. Be prepared for a diaper change,” I warn him.
“I’m an expert,” he brags. “Katie taught me well.”
“We’ll see about that. Oh, but when you do it, I want you to take Max and Trey and show them. The godfathers need to know this shit, right?”
“Watch your mouth, Daddy!” he scolds. “You owe this baby a dollar. Does he have a piggy bank up there?”
“It’s a sock monkey, but yeah. I’ll pay up. Promise.”
“Don’t think I won’t check.”
“Do I lie?” I argue. “Get ready.” I place my son in his cradled arms. Luca starts to cry immediately.
“What do I do?”
“Go sit down with Shea.” Everyone’s watching him since the baby’s now taken over the conversation. Will makes his way back to the couch and takes a seat next to his wife. She struggles to sit upright, obviously in discomfort from her own pregnancy, but finally gets situated and starts to stroke Luca’s head, trying to calm him. After two minutes, my brother hands the baby to his wife, who’s made a little place for him with one arm and a throw pillow next to her body. With his feet tucked under her armpit and his head near her belly, she continues to tickle his scalp and talk to him sweetly.
He seems to like this a lot.
I walk up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have a thing to worry about, Shea. You’re gonna rock this motherhood thing.”
She looks back at me, uncertain. “I just want him to be here already. I want to get the birth part behind me.”
I nod, understanding. “You’ll be fine. You’ll do great.”
“I keep telling her that.”
“I don’t think I’d be so afraid if Liv was still here. Not because…” She sighs and looks away from me, shaking her head. She doesn’t need to finish that sentence. “I just know she’d make me feel more confident about the whole thing.”
“We’ll be there with you, Shea,” Emi says. “I’ve been there, too.”
Emi and Jack leave before we order a late dinner, with time having gotten away from us. We’d fed the girls sandwiches a little after five, but never figured out what the adults would eat. I decide to give Joel the night off since everyone’s over and let him have a little fun with the rest of us.
After Trey and Coley take and place our orders online, I ask Max to help me put the kids to bed, wanting a little alone time with him. I can see a look exchanged between him and Callen before he agrees to come with me, but he follows me and the girls nonetheless after Edie and Willow tell everyone goodnight.
“Go brush your hair and teeth and pu
t on your PJs, girls, while I change Luca. Uncle Max and I will be back to tuck you both in.”
“Aren’t we sleeping with you, Daddy?” Willow asks.
“Not tonight, Wils. I have to move Luca’s bassinet into my bedroom. He wakes up every couple of hours to eat, remember? He cries a lot, so I want you both to get some uninterrupted sleep.”
“What if I don’t care if I do?” she argues in the hallway as Edie grabs her pajamas and heads into the bathroom.
“You lose. I care if you do, and my vote’s a little more important.”
“Come on, Willow. You can sleep with me, if you want,” her big sister offers. She grins and nods, taking off in a skip to her bedroom to get her things. I signal for Max to come with me to the nursery.
“How are things with you?” I ask him.
When he doesn’t answer immediately, I look over to see the expression on his face. He hasn’t been his bubbly, funny self tonight. “You know. Fine.”
“Come here,” I say, handing him Luca. He looks afraid to hold him. “The worst he can do is throw up on you, Mascot, and I can fix that with some hot water and detergent. Babies vomit and pee and shit on you sometimes. You did it to me and I lived. He’ll do it to you, and you’ll survive it. I promise.”
He closes his eyes and sighs, taking the baby into his arms.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m…” he starts. “I’m going through some shit.”
“Smoking again?” I ask, my tone purposely measured and non-threatening. I want to be here for my brother, no matter what. “I’m not going to be angry. We’ll get through it together. I can get you help.”
“It’s not something I can just quit. Honestly, Jon, it’s not something I want to quit.”
“If you’re not ready, then…” I think back to the times I’d tried to help Mom before she was mentally prepared to give up alcohol, “there’s not much I can do except try to monitor it, and I’ll try not to be a nuisance, but I can’t just turn a blind eye–”
“I don’t need you to monitor it. I’m not a kid, and I’m not abusing it.”
“Are you mixing it with anything?” I lay out a clean diaper to have everything ready.
“No,” he says, turning away from me and bouncing Luca lightly.
“Not alcohol?”
“I drink. I only smoke at home, Jon, and Callen’s with me most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” I take my son and start to change him.
“Why is that a concern?”
“Because…” I hesitate. “Because you haven’t been yourself in a long time and I worry about you. I hate that you spend so much time alone–to think you’re spending your days alone, getting high… it just makes me worry that much more.”
“It’s not every day. I don’t need it every day.”
My ear is keenly attuned to that word: need. “Is this an addiction thing?”
“No. It’s a recovery thing.”
“Is that an excuse?”
“No!” he argues defensively. “I’m in pain, I smoke. I get flashbacks, I smoke.”
“And when do you drink?” I add.
“When I just want to feel numb,” he answers.
“Doesn’t the weed do that?”
“Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s not the right kind of numb. With alcohol, I get happy before I get mellow. If it’s a social situation, that’s the better way to go. I adapt.”
“Why do you want to be numb so often?” I ask what seems to be the obvious question.
“I don’t want to be here anymore–in New York,” he clarifies quickly. Even with the addendum, I’m stunned.
“God, Mascot, don’t say shit like that.” Luca begins to whimper as I finish putting on his diaper. “Can you grab a onesie out of that drawer?”
“Any particular one?”
“Your choice.” Instead of picking one off the top, he holds up a few until he finds one he likes. It has a whale on it.
“I got this for him.”
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“And I have to say shit like that,” he continues our conversation. “I’ve been holding this in for… years, Jon. Literally.”
“What? Really?” He nods. “You’re unhappy?”
“Is that news?” He looks hurt when he asks, as if I haven’t been paying attention.
I swallow and concentrate on getting my son secured in his soft clothes, slipping past Max once to grab a pair of socks from the dresser. “I mean… no. I didn’t know you were that unhappy. I didn’t know you felt like moving was the solution.”
“I’ve been bugging Cal forever.”
“Where do you want to go?” I don’t wait for him to answer, but instead say it with him. “California. Yeah.” I exhale a long breath, eventually making eye contact with him again as I pick up Luca and sway him gently from side to side. “What’s there that isn’t here?”
“The rest of my life,” he says as his face falls. “I know you guys are all here.” I find a blanket and start swaddling Luca while he talks. “I know it would be hard to be so far away from you and Will and Trey, but fuck, Jon, I need to… reconnect with nature. With the ocean. I need to surf,” he says, nodding, and making no apologies. “You have your career, Livvy had art, Will has his music and his… whole purpose in life, right? Trey and Callen are both fucking geniuses and have their lives planned out, but you know, I don’t seem to have something useful to contribute,” he tells me. “The thing is, when I’m on the ocean, I feel whole.
“And there aren’t many other times when I do. I’d really like to have the opportunity to feel… good about myself again.”
“Max…” I set Luca in his bassinet and pull my brother into my arms. “I wish you knew how much I think you contribute to our family, because I think it’s really important. You were always the life of the party. The one to make us all laugh in any situation. The one to break the ice and ease the tension. The one to remind us all to stop being so damn serious all the time and have some fun. The one to convince us all to be ourselves, above everything else.
“Were.”
“Huh?”
“You said that in past tense. I was those things… so you admit that things have changed.”
“I know you’ve suffered since the shooting. No one expects you to be the same person you once were after surviving such an ordeal, but you’re no less important. Your contributions are no less impactful on me or the guys… or my kids. I’d love for you to be more involved.”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Why?”
“Because then I’m only gonna let you down, and that’s just one more thing to add to the list.”
“Nobody’s keeping a list.”
“I am… and for once, I want to put some things in the positive column. I’ve got to get back to the West Coast.”
I look away from him and back into the cradle at Luca. My heart feels even heavier than normal. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, buddy.”
“Don’t start that, Jon. Don’t make me feel bad about my own needs. Please,” he pleads. “I wouldn’t go if it was something I didn’t think I needed to do for my own sanity.”
“Daddy?” Edie interrupts. “We’re ready to be tucked in.”
“We’re coming,” I say, wiping wetness from my eyes and following her to her bedroom. Willow’s already in Edie’s full bed, her nose stuck in a book. “Teeth are brushed?” I ask them both.
“Yes, Daddy,” they say in unison as my oldest crawls into bed.
“Uncle Max, want to give the girls a hug?”
He leans over to embrace them, and I hear both of my daughters give him kisses on the cheek. When he pulls away, he’s smiling. “Breakfast date on me before you go back to school,” he promises them. “Anywhere you want, but make sure it’s somewhere that serves something with tons of syrup and whipped cream. Somewhere your daddy hates.”
“Yay!” they both cheer.
&nbs
p; “And donuts!” Willow adds, closing her book.
“Only if you finish that chapter,” Max says. “You weren’t finished yet, were you?” She shakes her head. “Edie, do you have a book?”
“I have a magazine,” she hedges.
“Nope. A book.” My brother looks at me, and I point to the bookshelf. Max picks a random book and shows it to Edie. “Have you read this one?”
“No.”
“Let’s shoot for chapter one…”
“Will you take me somewhere after our breakfast date? Anywhere I want to go?”
“Within reason. Sure.”
“You’re asking for trouble now,” I warn him. “This has lead-singer-of-a-boy-band-meet-and-greet written all over it,” I add. “Trust me. I fell for something like this last year.”
“That’s well outside of reason,” Max clarifies. “Wait–which boy band?” I roll my eyes at him.
“I just want to go to the store to get some more bows for my hair… for school,” she says, exasperated.
“I can get you those, bunny.”
“I want Uncle Max to take me,” she says.
“Okay, then.” No questions asked. After what Max told me, I’m not going to discourage the girls from spending time with him, and I won’t be offended even if it is in my stead – provided he’s sober, and now I know that’s something I have to watch closely for. Livvy was right. But at least he’s being honest with me now. “Finish chapter one. We’ll discuss what it’s about in the morning.”
“Right,” she laughs. “You’ve never read Matilda.”
“Oh, but I have,” I say, “and you’re going to love Miss Honey. Mark my words.”
“I bet there’s no Miss Honey.”
“Bet me all the money in your swear jar.” I hold out my hand to show her I mean business. She bites her lip, considering my offer, but a smile breaks through.
“Nope. Now can you boys leave so we can read our books?”
“Can I get kisses, too?” I ask. Both Edie and Willow put their books aside. I sit on the edge of the bed, letting them hug me and offer a kiss on the cheek.
“Tell Froggie goodnight,” Willow says softly. Edie repeats her, and they both go back to reading.
