Still Air

by Freya Barker

  “Feel my hair,” I say, bending my head down a little so she can touch it. It takes her a minute, but finally she lifts her hand and gingerly touches my short curls.

  “It’s soft,” she says, sounding surprised.

  “Not normally,” I explain. “It’s bristly and a bit rough to the touch, which is why I use a relaxing shampoo and conditioner. I also put a mask on my hair every week, just to keep it soft. It still curls, but not as tightly.” Gina’s hand comes up, this time to touch her own long dark strands. “African American hair often is different than your hair, for instance. It tends to twist around itself as it grows, which is what causes that kink and makes it feel bristly. A lot of women choose to straighten their hair or go to a hairdresser to have it done. I don’t have long hair, so I just use this. It seems to do the job.”

  “Mom had special stuff too, for shine. She let me use it, but Dad just buys the two-in-one stuff. In bulk,” she says the last with disgust in her voice and it makes me smile.

  “Well, you’re welcome to use my shampoo and conditioner any time you like, but I’m thinking you have such gorgeous thick hair, we should get you something that is perfect just for you. Maybe tomorrow we can pop in to Walgreens? See what they have for your hair type?”

  “Sure,” she says, sounding casual enough, but she can’t keep the pleased look off her face. Just like that I’ve fallen head over heels for this kid, too.

  “Perfect. It’s a date then. Now how about those cookies?” I quickly return the bottles to the shelf and lead the way out of the bathroom before I get all mushy over the poor kid.

  We’ve barely got the first batch in the oven when the front door opens, and Jonas is yelling through the house.

  “Gina! Pam! Come look at this!”

  Dino

  “Where are we going?” Jonas asks the moment I pull out of the driveway.

  I’m glad I never mentioned anything about a car when I first talked to Ike last month. The kid would probably have been hell to live with, testing his patience like that. It had still taken Ike a few weeks before convincing Viv she needed a new vehicle. Of course, then it had taken them a few more weeks to come up with something that would meet Viv’s esthetic demands as well as Ike’s safety and reliability ones. Yesterday when he showed up to help put the new bed together, he pulled me aside.

  “Picked up Viv’s new car yesterday, a Toyota RAV. I’ve had her old car looked over. Had an oil change, tire alignment, and brake service done; it should be good to go. Want to give it a test run and hit the DMV before it closes?”

  We got the title signed over and since I had to get to work, we left the car at Ike’s for us to pick up this afternoon. That’s where we’re going.

  “We have to stop by Ike and Viv’s for a minute, but first we have to pick up that package at Maine Photo Works.” I try to keep my cool but the truth is, I don’t know which of the two I’m more excited about.

  “Shit, that’s right,” Jonas says. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

  I chuckle to myself. Typical teenager; his mind only able to retain stats he reached in Call Of Duty and little else. I’m pretty proud when he came up with the idea.

  “She’s gonna love it,” I tell him when we tuck the package in the trunk of my car and make our way over to Ike’s.

  Jonas doesn’t suspect a thing when Viv pulls the door open with Francessca on her hip. He walks right past his new car without even blinking an eye, too focused on the baby. Both my kids seem to be enamored with babies. All babies—not just Francessca, but Syd and Gunnar’s little guy, Caden, as well. That’s why I’m not surprised when he plucks the baby from Viv’s arms and walks past her in the house, leaving Viv grinning after him.

  “He doesn’t have a clue, does he?” she observes, before following him in.

  “Not a one,” I mutter, filing inside after her.

  We’re sitting at the counter in her kitchen, having a coffee, when Ike walks in with bags of groceries and throws a wink my way.

  “Hey, Jonas,” he says, drawing my boy’s attention before tossing him a set of keys he easily catches midair. “Mind moving your car out of the driveway? I’ve got more shit in the back of mine and I’d like to back it in.”

  It’s pretty fucking funny to see the range of emotions playing out on his face, until he finally settles on one. With a big yelp, he jumps off the stool, his fist in the air. Poor Francessca, who was half dozing in her bouncy chair startles and starts crying. Before Viv can react, Jonas is already on his knees next to the baby, cooing and kissing her head.

  “Sorry,” he mouths with a wince at Viv, who just smiles and waves him off.

  “Go check out your wheels, buddy,” she tells him and he rushes out the door, leaving me standing beside the stool.

  For a second I feel a bit of a let down, but it passes quickly when the next moment Jonas comes running back in, not stopping until he has me in a tight squeeze.

  “Love you, Dad. I won’t disappoint you.”

  My arms come around him, one hand cupping the back of his head, the way I did when he was little.

  “You can’t even if you tried, Son. You make me so proud.” I swallow a huge lump from my throat but can’t keep the thick emotion from my voice. “I love you, Jonas. Now get out of here and make sure you’re home at five for dinner.”

  This time I follow him out the door and watch from the front steps as he backs his first car out of the driveway—narrowly missing the mailbox—and driving at a cautious speed down the street. I watch him until he turns the corner and disappears from sight.

  I feel an arm slipping around my waist as Viv steps out beside me.

  “I don’t even want to know what that feels like,” she says with a shudder. “Watching your kid drive off for the first time.”

  “Not helping, Vivian,” I growl low in my throat, only to have her laugh in my face.

  “No worries, you big lug. You’ll be sure to have the last laugh on this one.”

  Ten minutes later, I pull into the driveway, only to find my spot taken by Jonas. Didn’t quite think that through—not with Pam’s car filling the other half of the driveway. Fuck me. By the time I back up and park the car at the curb, Pam and the kids come rushing out of the house. They don’t even see me as they circle his car—not until I get out of the car—then Gina spots me first and comes running. I’m still reeling from the fact that my son, who for the first time has the freedom to go wherever he wants with whomever he wants, chose to drive his brand-new car straight home to show Pam and his sister. It both says something about how he feels about Pam and his sister, and about his priorities. Both please me to no end.

  I barely have a chance to brace myself when Gina jumps in my arms, smiling from ear-to-ear.

  “Hey, Daddy!”

  “Hey, Princess.” I slowly lower her until her feet hit the ground, wondering what I did to deserve this type of greeting. The minute I let her go, she runs back to the car. Jonas opens the passenger side door and I watch her climb in. Oh fuck. I watch as he rounds the hood and opens the driver’s door, while Pam watches on.

  “Wait a minute!” I call out, my feet eating up the lawn until I hit the driveway. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking Gina for a drive?” he answers. I can almost sense the mental eye roll I’m sure he performed at the same time.

  Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea, Bud.”

  “Why not?” Gina fires from a rolled down window.

  Pam sidles up to me, slipping an arm around my waist. “What is worrying you?” she whispers under her breath, her amusement still audible.

  “She’s too young,” I hiss back, which apparently amuses Pam even more, judging by the loud snort.

  “Dino...” I feel myself being turned toward the front door, Pam firmly leading me. “She’s just gonna go for a drive around the block in her brother’s new car.” I look down at her and see understanding shining in her eyes, even thou
gh her mouth is still twitching. Twisting my head around, I’m just in time to see my son getting behind the wheel, buckling himself in. Thank God. Gina seems to be giggling at me as Jonas slowly backs out of the driveway.

  Pam

  “That was delicious. You cooked—I’ll clean up.”

  I get up and start collecting plates.

  The kids returned after only ten minutes, and I managed to keep Dino distracted with some heavy petting right there in the hallway. It was a pretty big day for all of us, it seems, and the atmosphere around the dinner table was good-natured.

  I’m in the kitchen, washing some dishes in the sink and lost in thought, when familiar arms slip around my waist from behind, and Dino leans his chin on my shoulder.

  “You coming in any time soon?” A little shiver runs down my back as his breath ghosts against the shell of my ear.

  “Almost done,” I return, but he reaches around me and turns off the tap.

  “Come on, Biscuit. The kids want to watch a movie,” he says, as he steps back and holds out a towel for me to dry my hands.

  “Should I get some snacks?” I ask, not able to remember the last time I sat down for a family movie.

  “Honey, we just finished dinner. We’ll grab something later.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room, the TV not even on yet. Instead, both kids watch me walk in with barely veiled anticipation, and I look around for what I might be missing. What the hell?

  That’s when I spot it, and my knees want to buckle, but clearly Dino was prepared. I barely notice him pulling me against his chest, I can’t drag my eyes away from the large framed picture they’ve centered on the wall of family photos.

  I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was the beginning of the end. A moment I have called up and treasured more than just a few times in recent months. Derrick’s graduation from middle school; a time when my clever boy was still applying himself, before he got swept up in the disturbing dynamics of high school.

  He’d just finished his graduation speech, selected because of his outstanding academic performance, and jumped off the stage, clear into my arms. We’d both been on such a high that day. One of his teachers had taken the picture and had sent it to me. All these years I thought it was lost.

  Yet here it is, enlarged, hanging among pictures of Dino’s kids growing up.

  “How?” I manage to get out, although it’s more of a sob.

  “Jonas found it stuck inside the back cover of Derrick’s book. He wanted to frame it and give it to you for Christmas, but it was pretty creased and damaged. Gina was the one who suggested taking it to Maine Photo Works. She’d seen their ad in a magazine, promoting their services and one of them was image restoration.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “We tried to get it back before Christmas, but they said they needed more time. Since it wasn’t gonna be ready on time anyway, we figured we might as well have it enlarged,” Jonas pipes up, and I turn my eyes to him. He has his arm around his sister, who is leaning against his shoulder. She’s quietly crying and I realize my reaction may have upset her.

  “Gina, honey...look at me, baby.” Slowly her eyes come up. “I’m not upset—these are happy tears.”

  “I know,” she says, smiling through her tears. “So are these.”

  -

  “You know what I don’t get?”

  Dino turns to look at me.

  “I looked for that picture for years, wanting the visual with the memory, and all this time Derrick had it. He never told me.”

  The kids went upstairs earlier after I gave them both big emotional hugs. Dino and I are sitting on the couch, just looking at the family wall, where the picture of Derrick and me should look out of place—except, it doesn’t.

  In the picture, his arms are wrapped around my waist and he has his head tilted back, laughing with his mouth wide open, his eyes fixed on me. I’m holding him close, looking down on him with obvious pride, also smiling wide. A happy moment, among a wall full of happy moments.

  “Think about this,” Dino says, pulling me closer. “Maybe he needed it more than you.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.”

  “Dino?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Thank you.” I lift my head to look at him.

  “You’re welcome, beautiful, but like I said earlier, it was all the kids’ idea.” I smile and shake my head.

  “No, honey. Thank you for bringing me home.”

  Suddenly I find myself flipped in the air and land draped on top of Dino, his arm banding around me and a happy grin on his face.

  “Biscuit,” he murmurs, stroking my face with his palm. “I should be thanking you. The past months have been chaos and you’ve had my back. You maintained common sense, offered a voice of reason, and provided me quiet shelter in the storm. I’m a selfish man; I love you and am not ashamed to admit I need you here. And you brought this couch...it was a no-brainer.”

  EPILOGUE

  Dino

  I watch my son as he shakes hands, accepts hugs and kisses, and listens to words of advice and wisdom.

  This is a send-off party for Jonas. We’ll be driving him to Boston tomorrow, where he’ll be attending Boston Architectural College. He’d agonized long and hard, especially since sometime during this summer he and Emmy, Gunnar and Syd’s oldest, had become a couple. She is scheduled to start at the Maine College of Art, right here in Portland, and is planning to live at home. It was tempting for Jonas to choose a local college in Portland, so he could stay closer to Emmy, but ultimately he realized his acceptance into the BAC was an opportunity he shouldn’t pass up on.

  “Tough?” I turn to the side, finding Mark raising a bottle of beer to his lips.

  “Tougher than I thought,” I admit.” It scares me that I can’t keep a close eye on him. Temptation is everywhere on college campuses, especially in a big city like Boston.”

  “He’s a good kid. For what it’s worth, I think he’ll be alright. It’s not like he’s across the country, he’s a couple of hours away at most. You can drive there, meet him for lunch, and be back before dinner. It may help him stay rooted, make it easier for him to resist getting swept up in anything bad.” Mark shrugs his shoulders and takes another swig of his beer.

  “He’s right, you know?” Pam says, walking up behind us and slipping her arm around my waist. “We’ll talk to him regularly, let him know we’re still right there, even if it’s not in the same house. He’s grown up. Even more so now that he has Emmy. Those kids have a lot in common.”

  We watch as Jonas tags Emmy as she walks by, pulls her close, and drops a quick kiss on her mouth. Mark chuckles beside me. I follow his gaze which is focused on Gunnar, standing behind the bar and glaring at my son.

  “I bet he’s growling,” Pam, who spots him as well, points out. Mark chuckles even louder.

  Gunnar had not been a happy man when Emmy introduced Jonas as her boyfriend. Not happy at all. I’d steered clear of him for those first few weeks, not wanting the confrontation I was afraid was coming. It was inevitable, though. I’m protective of my boy, proud of him. He’s not made the best decisions, but he owned up to them, faced the consequences, and has done everything right since. On the other hand, Gunnar was looking out for his little girl, his firstborn. I don’t think any boy would’ve been good enough in his eyes.

  The confrontation had come one night when Syd and I were cleaning up the pub, and Gunnar stormed in the backdoor.

  “Told you that kid would be a bad influence on her!” he yelled at Syd, ignoring me completely, even though it was my son he was referring to. “I caught Emmy checking out colleges in Boston. She gonna give up her future for that punk.”

  I hadn’t even realized I was moving until Syd stepped between, a hand in the middle of my chest and one in Gunnar’s, physically holding us apart.

  “Enough!” The voice coming from her small frame was impressive. “Weeks I’ve watched you two circling around each other a
nd over what? They’re good kids, both of them with a good head on their shoulders.” She proceeded to read us both the riot act. Pointing out that we should be glad that if anything ever happened with the kids, they’d have a support system like no other to help them out. She made it clear that we were the ones behaving immaturely, not the kids. “How many years have you been friends? How many years have you had each other’s backs, been part of the other’s family? You’ve seen that boy grow up, Gunnar. You know that boy almost as well as his father does. And you,” she said, poking a pointy finger in my chest. “You should give him some slack. You of all people should know what it’s like to worry your little girl is going to get hurt.”

  I swear she made me feel three feet tall that night.

  If I’m honest, I don’t really blame him for calling Jonas a punk, I just reacted. I’ve called Benji a punk—fuck, I’ve called him worse—and he didn’t deserve that either. And he’s just Gina’s friend—at least I fucking hope so.

  I look around the pub, which is closed for our private party, and see only familiar faces. Matt is helping Gunnar man the bar. Syd and Ruby are fussing around the buffet table they set up along the far wall. Pam and those two prepared too much food. Tim and Ike, still the best of friends, are sitting at the far end of the bar, talking with Arnie, who is as much part of The Skipper family as anyone else. We’ve got Gunnar’s mother sitting in a booth with Tim and Mark’s parents and Viv’s mother. The older guard.

  Claudia, Mark’s girlfriend, is laughing at something Viv’s youngest brother, Dorian, says, while her oldest brother, Owen, is trying to teach Nina to play darts. Nina is Ruby and Tim’s adopted daughter, who is going into her second year of college. Dex, Gina, and Ben are watching from a nearby table, laughing every time Nina’s darts miss the board and clatter to the ground.

  We make up a colorful community. Family, really.

  A large, diverse and dysfunctional family—but I’ve never experienced so much love in one room. Despite the different cultures, life experiences, differences in race, and preference, we all seem to fit.