by Alex Rosa
“Mom, relax. Carrie is just too much of a mess right now. She doesn’t deal with Lizzy very well, and all she talks about is partying. It’s not the best environment. Lizzy is like a sponge. She absorbs nearly everything she’s around. I’ll bring Lizzy around when Carrie’s gone.”
My mother still disapproves but something sparks in her eyes. “Lizzy? That’s a cute nickname. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her that.”
I take a large gulp of my beer. All I can think about is Julia, home with my daughter right now.
Lucky for me, I was in too much of a rush to spend time staring at Julia. She wore that same damned tattered sweater that I hate and adore. Elizabeth tackled her before I could get in a word in, and with already running late, I took it as an excuse to leave.
Julia’s presence sometimes makes me feel claustrophobic, but only because I can never say or do what I want. When it comes down to that, it’s always better I walk away, but she seems to squeeze her way into my life no matter what … like now.
“Yeah, sometimes I call her Lizzy.” I shrug.
“It suites her,” my mom replies while adjusting the button on her overly formal maroon dress shirt tucked into gray slacks. I don’t remember her wearing outfits like that, and find this a great way to change topics.
“Mom, you look good. Have you been losing weight?”
She slaps my arm as she smiles. The already present wrinkles around her face crinkle more. “Your father and I are trying to eat healthier. Don’t mention it, but the doctor told him he has high blood pressure—“
“Go figure,” I blurt out. “With a temper like his, I could’ve diagnosed him myself.”
Thankfully she laughs, and when she does the wrinkles become more defined than before. It becomes clear that those weathered lines of age imply something far greater than time, but happiness. My mother has always been a happy person and this fact pleases me, but it also has me a bit envious.
“Troy, what’s that smile for?”
I shake my head and take another quick sip. I can only hope that at my mom’s age I’m just as happy, even if my dad can be an ass. “Nothing. Where’s Noah?”
She eyes me inquisitively. “He’s out back. Is everything okay? You seem different.”
I release a tight laugh. Am I okay? I don’t know.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I can’t tell if you’re happy or sad.”
It’s such a simple statement with such simple words that imply so much. I’m pretty sure I’m a little bit of both.
“Mom, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t push it, but tuts just the same as she watches me exit out the patio door.
My parent’s modest backyard is lush and green. The recent snow has melted and it’s a crisp winter day. I like it when it’s like this, especially out here. It’s my favorite part of this place. The open space is more to my liking than the homey clutter inside. As I approach Noah sitting on the patio chairs under the gazebo in the corner sipping a beer like mine, I know he feels the same.
He’s out here thinking, too. Most of the time he’s with my dad in the living room engrossed in a conversation I can’t participate in. The fact that he’s out here means he doesn’t have the patience for him either, or he’s got something else on his mind entirely.
As the thought hits me I almost wish I was heading the opposite direction.
“Hey, baby bro.”
Noah looks up, letting a smile spread through his face.
“Hey, Man. Have you talked to Dad yet?”
I shake my head.
“Good,” he responds, “He’s in a fucking mood because he’s not allowed red meat or beer any more. He’s been a dick all week at work, too.”
I take a seat and nod. I don’t envy Noah when it comes to working with our father. I’d explode. My father and I don’t necessarily share blood, but we have identical levels of patience.
“How’s it going?” I ask, taking a swig from my bottle.
“Amazing and awful at the same time.”
I don’t want to know more because any way that Noah might feel awful will not compare to how I feel. Not today. He’s got nothing to complain about as far as I’m concerned.
“I’ve got blue balls like nobody’s business,” he exclaims.
I choke on my sip, and let out a belt of laughter. Okay, this admission might please me, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I want to hear more.
“That bad, ay?” I respond. I don’t know how to act disinterested while sounding like a supportive brother. “She hasn’t put out yet?”
I gulp down another sip.
He rubs over his face, scratching at scruff. “It shouldn’t matter.”
I want to pretend we’re talking about some random girl. Noah and I are close. We were close months ago, and that shouldn’t change. However, I hate to admit it has. At least until I get over myself.
“Of course it matters,” I laugh, jabbing him in the arm. “How long have you been dating Julia now?”
I know the answer to this. Actually, I might’ve calculated this exact thing a few days ago. I take another sip.
“A month, I think. She’s great. She’s funny. I don’t know many girls that can make me laugh.” He pauses, humming a bit as if reflecting on her. It twists my heart. “It almost happened the other night. She was so damn hot, bro. Like, drive me crazy sorta hot. But …”
Can I walk away? Should I walk away?
“But what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. She froze up. I had her nearly naked, and she tensed. She didn’t say or refuse, but I didn’t want to push her. But fuck, I wanted to. I assume it has to do with her ex. She’s got a bit of a complicated past, so I don’t want to push her into doing anything that she isn’t ready for. I just—I’m a bit sexually frustrated, ya know? Falling asleep next to her wasn’t bad though. Did you know she had a boyfriend she dated since she was sixteen?”
I do.
“Nope.” This time I finish off my beer. “So, you just cuddled all night?”
Noah lifts a heavy shoulder, but still manages a smile. “Makes me sound like a chick, but yeah, I did.”
I hate that I’m jealous. It’s absurd. Who gets jealous of a cuddle? I do. Fuck.
I nod. No words are safer.
“But do my balls feel like they’re going to explode? Hell yeah they do.”
I laugh. This feels good. Laughter is good, and as the sounds leave the depths of my gut and out of my mouth, I know they’re genuine.
Why hasn’t Julia slept with Noah yet? My insides flutter with hope, but it’s misplaced. Though, I do get some sick joy out of his sexual frustration. Too much joy, actually.
“How are you and Julia getting along at work? I notice she hasn’t called you an asshole in a while.”
I smile. I don’t know why I find the fact endearing, but I do.
“We get along fine.” I pause, finding it hard to get my mouth around words. “We’ve figured out how to work together, but we have our moments. She’s stubborn.”
Noah’s watching me too intensely and it makes me nervous.
“Megan seemed nice. Are you gonna see her again?”
The topic change feels strange, but I attempt to take it in stride. “When do I ever see a girl twice?”
Noah’s sits back as he laughs.
“Boys, your sister’s here! Dinner is on the table!” shouts my mom from the patio door before going back inside.
We don’t move. We aren’t ready for it yet.
“Julia is with Elizabeth tonight?” Noah asks.
“You know she is. Does it bother you?”
I’m surprised that the question flies out of my mouth, but it’s his silence that follows that has me more curious.
“Noah?”
“No. It doesn’t.”
He rises from his seat, sipping his beer.
This time I try being strategic. “Have you seen
Carrie lately?”
He rolls his eyes. “Just three weeks ago. I went to go break up a party near campus and guess whose sorority house it was at?”
“She gets it from you. You were the bad influence.” I point my bottle in his direction.
“Pshsht. Maybe years ago, but now? I don’t know where she gets it in her head that getting crazy is okay. I’m not bailing her out next time. I’m leaving her in a cell overnight. Dad gets mad at me every time I sneak her out anyway. I’m sick of getting shit from him when she just keeps doing the same things over and over again.”
“BOYS! DINNER!”
This time we leap at our mother’s tone. Sure, we’re grown men, but there are wraths we’d like to avoid.
I scoot into my normal dinner spot next to Carrie, elbowing her playfully. She turns her head toward me, a glittering smile accompanying her long chestnut hair, though the stud that appears in her left nostril is new.
“Stop getting into so much trouble, you animal,” I retort under my breath.
She unleashes an evil giggle as if she agrees while peering around the table to see our parents have not yet joined us. She leans in. “Don’t act like you didn’t go crazy in college.”
I poke her in the gut. “Yeah, except I was smart enough not to get caught. You need to be stealthier. You know what’s gonna happen, right?”
Her perfectly plucked brows pucker and her hazel eyes that match my father’s reflect that curiosity we all seem to share. “What?”
“Noah is gonna leave you in jail and Dad won’t even bat an eye.”
She scoffs, grabbing for her cup of soda as she says, “Yeah right. Dad would never let that happen.”
“You bet your ass I would let it happen!” erupts from the hallway, and I cannot stop my laughter as I watch her choke on her sip.
“Dad!” she shrieks.
He releases a series of burly chuckles, each ending with a timber rasp. “Don’t Dad me. I’m serious. Just because I’m an old fart doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on at these parties: promiscuous sex, drug use, alcohol binging. I’m not here to scold you even though I should. I’m just saying, don’t treat the police chief as if he’s an idiot just because you’re his daughter. You cross the line because you think you can, but it’s about time you learn you aren’t above the law. I pay for your tuition, not for your get out of jail free card.”
“Dad I—“
“I’ll let your ass rot in jail for a night if I have to. I don’t need my officers, including your brother, being pulled to campus when there are more important issues going on in this damn city.”
“But I—“
“—Do I make myself clear, Buttercup?”
She melts into her seat as she nods her defeat.
I shake my head at the ridiculousness, looking up to see Noah doing the same as he adds, “Finally!”
My mom walks in with a steaming plate of her famous meatloaf. She places the plate next to steamed veggies and a bowl of mashed potatoes. I pull in a deep breath, loving the smell of home cooking. At least there’s this among the chaos.
“Eat up!” My mother chirps proudly. “Troy, you better have a big helping. You could use some extra servings, if you ask me.”
I raise a brow while shooting her a smirk. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m not built like a line-backer, but for you I’ll have two servings of this meatloaf.”
She smiles, feeling accomplished as she takes a seat at the opposite end of the table.
Everyone begins serving themselves, except my mom. She likes watching everyone digging in and enjoying the fruits of her labor before serving herself.
Noah eats a large forkful of the main dish. He chews through his words, “Dad, thanks for the beer!” He adds a wink
“Very funny, Noah. Just rub it in!” He grumbles.
I grab for my new beer and sip it as my way to do just that. It doesn’t go unnoticed as my dad rolls his eyes while running a hand through his military cut salt and pepper hair.
The tension builds in the silence, and it doesn’t surprise me.
My mother, always the mediator blurts out, “Noah, tell me about the girl you’re seeing. You said you have a new girlfriend.”
Well, there goes my appetite.
Noah’s smile has me considering violence, and instead I drink more of my beer, finishing half of it. I consider grabbing another as my chance to leave the table.
“Oh, her name is Julia, Mom. She’s great. You’d like her.”
I eye my fork, trying to get the energy to grab for it again, but I’m too distracted by the fact that he’s right, Mom would like her.
“That’s wonderful to hear! How’d you meet?”
I gulp down. He chuckles. I don’t have the nerve to look at him.
“Kinda romantic, actually. She tripped and fell into my arms during one of my morning jogs. She’s from out of state, California. She slipped on the snow. I asked her out. The rest is history, I guess.”
I hear him stuff his mouth as he chews through another response. I’m listening but I’m distracted by the elbow jab in my gut.
Carrie leans over and whispers, “What’s wrong with you?”
I nudge her back, twisting my lips into a forced smile. “Nothing,” I whisper back as the conversation carries on, and I’m glad for this distraction.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I am. Where’s your boyfriend, why isn’t he here?”
She purses her lips to hide her giggle, “Why? So Dad could ridicule him for being a philosophy major?”
I roll my eyes and nod my agreement.
“—Troy actually works with her.”
My eyes fling upward at hearing my name. “What?”
Noah eyes me inquisitively and then back to Carrie who’s trying to act innocent as she wraps her mouth around a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes.
Noah repeats, “You work with Julia. I was telling Mom and Dad that it’s a funny coincidence.”
I nod. “Yeah, funny.”
Funny is not the word I would use.
“Is she a designer, like you? She plays with pretty things?” comes from my father while matched with his patronizing stare.
My mother huffs from the other side of the table. “Don, please…”
“—Please, what? I was just wondering if they do the same thing,” my dad replies defensively.
“I don’t just design things, Dad. I mean, I do, but I’m still contracted to reconstruct buildings.”
“What does she do?”
I let out a breath, finding my patience non-existent. “She designs the interior, and I provide feedback while I help plan the interior architectural make up. We’re in the process of reconstructing an old building downtown into a nightclub. It’s pretty cool actually—“
“Still the foofy stuff, ay? I wish you’d go back to city planning. Something distinguishable like working for the government.”
“Dad, I like what I do. I like that I get to do that and the design element. Is it so wrong for me to want to get a bit artsy?”
The bastard laughs.
“Would you like me to get you a dress from your mother’s closet, too?”
“DONALD!” my mother shouts.
I rise from the table, tossing my napkin onto my plate. Carrie grabs for my arm, her eyes wide. They still beg the same way they did when we were kids. “Don’t go, please. He doesn’t mean it.”
But he does.
I shake my head as an apology as I turn away. “Well, it’s always a pleasure. I can’t wait until the next dinner.”
My mother rises too, her wrinkles defined with frustration. “But Troy, you haven’t had your second serving,” she pleads.
“Sorry Mom. I don’t know when Dad will realize this discussion gets old fast.”
My dad is still working his way through his chortles, playing with his mashed potatoes as he does, as if this conversation is of no consequence to o
ur relationship. “Leave the boy alone, Marge. I didn’t mean any harm. He knows that.”
I clench my jaw and just stare at him until he looks up.
His dull, hazel eyes widen, but they tense just as quickly, as if he’s ready to challenge me.
“Troy, don’t look at me that way. You know I just want the best for you.”
His caddy, misogynistic attitude has me wanting to pull out my checkbook just to flash my bank account balance around to prove that the job he laughs at is more than enough to provide me with a lifestyle that a policeman’s salary could never offer. Instead, I bite my tongue, and nod my passive goodbye.
I turn to face Carrie and lean down, placing a kiss atop her head. “Stop getting into trouble, Buttercup, and don’t call me when Dad won’t bail you out.”
Her returning laughter is the only thing that makes the night worth it. I add, “Only call me if you want to stop by for a movie or get some lunch, alright?”
She nods.
I turn around to find my mother has disappeared. I know what she’s doing and I laugh as I approach my father, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, only one serving of that meatloaf. I’d hate to see your blood pressure get higher than it already is.”
He grunts. “Oh, so you’re the nice guy now?”
I squeeze his shoulder. “Nope. I’m just going to be the smart one and walk away.”
His hand comes up to mine and he squeezes it. It’s a shocking maneuver and it’s almost like an apology, but he doesn’t speak.
I roll my eyes and turn around to see Noah looking as exhausted as I feel. I’m surprised Noah didn’t contribute to my dad’s nonsense, but it only means that Julia affects him. He’s changed his attitude toward the subject since she defended me. The realization has my blood boiling, and it shouldn’t.
“Laters, Noah.”
I head toward the door as my mom comes flying out of the kitchen and down the hall with a full plastic bag in hand.
“Troy! Here! I put some leftovers away for you to eat later.”
I grab for the bag and pull her into a hug.
Her face presses into my chest as she says, “Sorry your father is an ass.”
