A Holland and a Fighter

by Lori L. Otto

  “God, of course she does, Jon,” she assures me.

  “Sometimes it takes… something out of this world to convince people of things, though. I’m not the most stubborn one of us, but… I am pretty hard-headed.”

  “Oh, you’re stubborn,” she agrees, laughing.

  “I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing. Little man needs a little bottle. Should I get breakfast started?’

  “I stayed up late. We’ve got a casserole in the fridge and you have plenty of things on hand to make some pumpkin muffins… which I know you like. Just go put the top oven on 350 and the bottom on 375. I’ll go shower and we can divide and conquer.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Will and Charlie come in while Luca’s taking his bottle and the coffee just finishes brewing. I heard them coming from the moment they stepped off the elevator because his son is wailing, very unhappy about something. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” my brother says as he comes in. “He’s hungry. We didn’t pack enough milk. Where’s Shea?”

  I cringe. “Shower.”

  Luca is not bothered by the noise, though, and continues to happily suck on his breakfast, fighting off the milk coma while I feed him.

  “What the fuck?” Max says, rubbing his eyes as he comes down the stairs in his underwear.

  “Get back up there and put on some clothes. I have little girls, you know, and they don’t need to be asking what that is.” I nod to his bulge, annoyed.

  “They’ve never seen you in your underwear?” he asks me, filling a mug with coffee.

  “Not… casually, walking around the apartment. If they did, I was rushing to cover up because they walked into something they weren’t supposed to see.”

  “Ahhh. Sexy time,” he says.

  “Since when do you drink coffee?”

  “I do nice things for that guy upstairs sometimes, you know? Especially when I know he didn’t sleep well because some little poop monster kept wanting a clean butt.”

  “So, Callen left that mess in his room?” I ask, not as an accusation, but just because I’m surprised.

  My brother glares at me before opening the refrigerator door. “Don’t give me shit about the mess.”

  “So, you did that,” I say, nodding. “No shit given… it just wasn’t in Callen’s character.”

  “It wasn’t in Callen’s character,” he mocks me in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like mine.

  “What can I help you find?”

  “Got it,” he says, pulling out a beer.

  “No,” I tell him. “It’s barely eight in the morning.”

  “Pain doesn’t follow a schedge, Jon. I left my meds at home.”

  “I’ve got some ibuprofen.”

  “This is numbing and calming, though. Why kill one bird when you can kill two? Tweet tweet… am I right?” He opens it before I can protest any longer. “Want me to put it in a cup so the girls can’t see? I can hold it over my junk, too. That’ll kill three birds.” He grins his charming smile and picks up the coffee, then leans in closer to me. “I’ll go put clothes on,” he whispers loudly in my face.

  “Good god, brush your teeth.”

  “Left my toothbrush at home, too.”

  “Seriously? There are some extra ones in the guest bathroom down here.”

  “I’ll grab one after my beer,” he calls out to me, opting to take the elevator up one floor instead of the steps.

  Charlie’s latched onto Shea’s breast when she makes it into the kitchen. It takes me a moment to realize she plans to carry on as normal with breakfast preparations, even though her little one’s trying to eat.

  “Sit down, Mom,” I tell her, kicking out the chair beside me. “Breakfast for everyone else can wait, but your son needs your attention now.”

  The doorbell chimes, and I do a quick mental calculation to make sure everyone’s here; I’m pretty sure we’re all accounted for.

  The front door opens on its own, though, startling me only momentarily until I see Trey holding the door for his newlywed wife.

  “What the hell are you guys doing here?” I ask, standing and setting Luca’s empty bottle aside. On my way to greet them, I grab a dishtowel and flip it over my shoulder.

  “Teterboro is shut down,” Coley says. “So are most of the roads to get there… so the honeymoon’s off for a few days, I guess. We checked the app, saw that everyone was here and thought we’d take the train over.”

  “We felt left out,” Trey says. “May I?” He reaches for Luca, so I secure the towel over his shirt instead.

  “Can I help with breakfast?” Coley asks.

  “No,” I tell her as I make my way to the kitchen. “Go sit down and put up your feet. Just because you’re not on a tropical island somewhere doesn’t mean we’re putting you to work. I’ve got breakfast under control.”

  “Coley?” Edie shouts from the second floor. “Coley and Trey?”

  “Well, I guess Callen’s really awake now,” I mumble, now hearing the familiar patter of my daughters’ footsteps as they run down the stairs. “Girls,” I say to them as they hug their aunt, “don’t run down the staircase.”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Willow says.

  “But Coley and Trey are here!” Edie argues.

  “I know, I know!” I say, trying to meet her level of excitement.

  “Casserole in the top?” I ask Shea.

  “Yes, but we need to get the muffins started first.”

  “I’ve got it,” Will says, wearing one of my Columbia sweatshirts as he glides into the room.

  “Did no one bring their own stuff over here?” I tease him, yanking on the hood.

  “I didn’t pack for a blizzard, I’ll put it that way.”

  “We can start a fire,” I suggest.

  “If someone wants to take Luca, I’ll do that,” Trey offers.

  “Give me that baby,” Coley says. “The girls and I want to play with Luca, don’t we?” She turns around. “Shea, they’ve got things under control. Come in here and let’s have some girl time.”

  “With our sons…” Will and I both say at the same time.

  “Is this when they put dresses on them?” my brother asks me.

  “Possibly,” I tell him. “It was always a matter of time… it’s the makeup you need to worry about. Ask Max.”

  “What?”

  “I should have taken a picture. Not sure why I didn’t,” I say, scratching my head. “Edie gave him a makeover at the wedding last night.” I lean in so my comments don’t make it to my sensitive daughter’s ears. “It was awful.”

  “Surely Callen got a picture…”

  “I don’t think Cal wants to remember that.”

  “You don’t think he likes a little kink? A little roleplay?” I backhand him before getting out some eggs for him. “I think he does.”

  “Why do you insist on making me uncomfortable like that?”

  “It’s just sex.”

  “It’s our brother.” I close my eyes and shake my head.

  “It’s easy for me to separate the two,” Will tells me. “Coconut oil?”

  “In the pantry.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you have this recipe memorized?”

  “I’ve been helping to make these for the restaurant every weekend this winter,” he tells me. “Gives Shea more time with the baby. Cloves?”

  “Right next to the cinnamon on the spice rack.”

  “Cool. Want to cut up some fresh fruit? I saw you had a bunch.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Hey, Jon?” Coley calls out.

  “Does he need a new diaper?”

  “No, Luca’s fine. I wanted to know if you had some chai. It seems like a good morning for chai…”

  “I do… I’ll get some started. How many do we need?” I take a count of hands around the room, and know that Max will probably drink a cup, too. Emi has made addicts out of all of them.

  My daughters relocate to the hearth once Trey�
��s started the fire, and he joins my brother and me in the kitchen, taking over tea duty. “Where are Max and Cal?”

  “Upstairs. I think I heard the water going,” I tell him. “Taking a shower, maybe.”

  “Why the slumber party?”

  I smile at him. “They wanted to give me a night off… Callen and Max took care of Luca during the night; Shea put the girls to bed last night. I got drunk.”

  “Drunk? You?”

  “They got me drunk, I should say. There was obvious intent.”

  “I’m ashamed to say it,” Will speaks up, “but it’s true. It was the only way we were gonna get him to stop being a responsible adult for a night.”

  “Yeah, there’s really no other way, with Jon.” I punch Trey’s arm playfully. “So, did you pass out?”

  “After I climbed up the back stairs to the studio, I did.”

  Their eyes get wide. “Is that where you were this morning?” Will asks me. I nod. “Oh. Oh, wow. I… I never would have checked there. I assumed you went to the store to get something. I guess I should have looked at the app.”

  “I was fine. Freezing, but fine.”

  “Was the heat not on?” Trey asks.

  “It came on when it hit 55. I turned it up to 70 at that point, but… I wasn’t dressed for that. Thankfully, I had our down comforter.”

  “I stripped you down to your boxers and t-shirt,” my brother says, laughing. “Shit, you must have been an icicle.”

  “You took my socks, too, asshole.”

  “You can’t go to bed with underwear and socks. That’s such a dad move.”

  “I’m a dad. Newsflash, so are you.”

  “We don’t have to look like them.” He pats my stomach. “Some sit-ups should help.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You’ve got a gut,” Max says from across the room. I feel my face flush. “It’s manageable. Sit-ups… less of those muffins they’re making you, for sure…” he mumbles when he gets into the kitchen.

  “Hey!” I look around, shocked, and feel the ab muscles–or feel around for them. “Holy shit… when did this happen?”

  Callen finally joins the rest of us and puts his arm across my shoulders. “Gradually, man. But we’ve got you. There’s a gym downstairs, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. I’ve never had a problem staying fit, but I realize I haven’t been taking care of myself like I did when Livvy was here. I used to run daily. Together, she and I were much more active. Now, when I’m not taking care of the kids, I typically sit or lie down in an attempt to get a moment’s rest.

  “We’ll start running again,” Will suggests. “You can bring the kids over in the evenings for an hour–”

  “Shea has a newborn baby; I’m not quadrupling her workload!”

  “Max offered to help her out,” Callen says, pulling me into him, “and I’ll go running with you guys, too. We’re family, dude. We’re gonna help while we can.”

  “On the weekends, I’ll come over and do weights with you,” my youngest brother offers. “It’s part of my strength training anyway.”

  “Wait a second,” I say, looking around at all the guys. “Is this… is this an intervention?”

  “Nope,” Max says too eagerly.

  “You assholes,” I say. “The girls in there with their girl time, and all you standing around telling me I’m fat, in the nicest way possible.”

  “We never said you were fat,” Callen laughs.

  “You know what we’re doing, man?” Will says. “We’re taking care of you.” His expression is sweet as he shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve taken care of us all our lives. We just want to return the favor.”

  “I don’t need to–”

  “I don’t need to be taken care of,” Max mouths off, again in some unrecognizable voice that makes us all laugh this time. “Just shut the fuck up and let us do this for you, okay?”

  “Did Uncle Max just say fuck?” Willow loudly asks.

  The entire apartment goes silent.

  “What?” my daughter asks meekly, knowing she said something wrong.

  “Hey, Wils?”

  “Yeah, Daddy?”

  “Go get your swear jar.”

  “Okay!” she says, the smile evident in her voice. Callen pulls some cash out of his pocket.

  “Nope,” I tell him. “New lesson. Hard lesson… but this is how it was always going to be…” It was Livvy’s idea, and a good one, I’d thought.

  “Oh, don’t do it,” Will says. “Not to my goddaughter.”

  “I have good people like you and Max to thank for this…”

  “Shit,” he whispers as she comes back into the room, proudly holding a mason jar stuffed full of bills, big and small. I bet she has a few hundred dollars in there. I’m sure she knows exactly how much she’s amassed over the years, and it’s been her choice to save most of it and not spend it.

  If it were Edie’s swear jar, we’d be looking at about 10 bucks.

  “Put it on the counter,” I tell her. She sets it there but doesn’t release it. “Let go.”

  “Daddy…”

  “What did Mama and I tell you would happen if you ever said that word?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You do know.”

  She sighs. “You would take some of my swear money.”

  “How much of your swear money?”

  “All of it.” Tears form in her eyes.

  Max, Callen and Trey leave the kitchen at that point; Will turns his back, going back to mixing the muffin batter.

  Willow climbs up onto a bar seat and puts her head onto her crossed arms. She watches as I take the jar and put it high up into the pantry, out of her reach. “I’ll be taking that upstairs after breakfast.”

  She nods; her fat bottom lip makes me want to give the jar back to her, but I can’t.

  “Daddy, are you gonna spend all my money?”

  “No, sweetie, I’m not going to touch the money, but it’s not yours anymore. Not now. Do you understand?” I ask her. She blinks, and the tears fall down her cheeks. “I’m going to count it, and I’m going to work with Aunt Shea… and together we’re going to come up with ways that you can earn most of it back. But you’re putting five dollars in a jar for Luca, and five dollars in a jar for Charlie because you said that word in front of them. Is that fair?”

  She nods.

  “What about me, Daddy?” Edie says. “Don’t I get five dollars, too?”

  “And a dollar to Edie, too.”

  “Doesn’t Uncle Callen have to pay for Uncle Max, though?” Willow asks.

  “Uncle Max has a different punishment this time. He has to see his niece cry, and that’s worse,” I explain to her.

  “I’m sorry, Wils,” he says to her with more sincerity than I’ve seen from him in a long time. He gives her a big hug, too, and she chokes out some forced sobs to amp up the drama. I know it’s fake, but Max can’t tell, and I know he feels terrible seeing her go through this punishment.

  “Willow, go see if Aunt Shea needs anything right now. You can start earning it back today. Okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. Good girl. Thank you, Wils.”

  The guys come back into the kitchen. “See, one good thing about us moving to the West Coast–you’ll have one less bad influence on your kids.”

  “Max,” I tell him, stopping what I’m doing and looking right at him, “I’d take Coley’s stance on curse words any day of the week if that meant you’d stay here. Call me a hypocrite, but I would.” He doesn’t say anything, and in fact picks up the knife laying in front of me and begins cutting the fruit I’d been working on. “You’re not a bad influence. Nobody in this apartment is a bad influence.

  “Built a business from scratch and owns her own restaurant and catering company,” I say, pointing to Shea. My attention moves to Coley. “Has written and published three poetry books–no, three successful poetry books.” I focus on the guys now. �
�Graduated from business school and is set to take over one of the most reputable companies in the country. World-renowned physicist and rock god. Helped get the first gay, single man elected president and at the top of his class at law school. Paved the way for other single gay teens, and then risked his life to save the president-elect, his best friends and hundreds of other strangers.

  “I’m standing in the room with… fucking legends!” I’m loud enough that everyone can hear me, but it’s a point I have to drive home. “I’d be happy if my kids do a fraction of what any of you guys have done with your lives.”

  “Your kids are on their way,” Shea says, carrying a sleeping Charlie with her into the kitchen. Coley follows her. Edie’s on the couch with one arm around Willow. Luca’s bundled in a blanket, spread across both of their laps. “Look where they got their start, Jon. Pulled himself and his brothers out of poverty. Excelled at Columbia. Partner at one of the top architecture firms on this planet… and who was their mom? Only Livvy Holland Scott. Her name is more recognizable than most world leaders. Her work has been called the art of our generation. Like… Edie and Willow and Luca were given the greatest of parents, Jon.” I look down at the floor, acknowledging the loss of one of them, but Shea–astute as always–knows exactly where my mind has gone. “Her absence will never be a disadvantage to them, because we will live our lives lifting her up. She was the best of all of us–for all of us. She brought us all together. Without her, this room full of people simply wouldn’t have happened. The friendships. The relationships. The kids. None of us would be here without her.

  “So, we won’t go a day without her, either. She is a constant in our lives. In our existence, whether she’s a physical presence or not. She’s not something that disappears. She’s not someone who is ever forgotten, not even for a moment. You know why? Because when I look at my son, I see her. When I look at Will, I see her.”

  “When I look at Cal, I see her,” Max says. “I thank her every day. I know it’s the bond you two had that brought us all together.”