by Emilia Finn
“Jesus.” I turn to head toward the house, and I pull Ben along, because I grieve for him, too. “Way to make me sad.”
“You’re back for now,” he whispers. “So go and give him some love. You need to diffuse this shit before he murders me.”
I bark out a laugh and step up onto the porch. My conversation with Ben ends, and Biggie’s hard face softens the second I press my body against his and force him to unfold his arms and take me in a hug.
I drape myself over my daddy and exhale. “I’m here.”
“Smalls.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head in almost the exact same spot Ben did, and though I didn’t tell Ben to leave yet, I still close my eyes when his truck starts rumbling, and he pulls away. “I missed you so much,” Biggie whispers. “I can’t even explain how much I miss you when you’re not right in front of me.
“I’m sorry. I’m home now.” I pull back, and clasp his hands in mine. “I needed to see my other best friend, too. I’m sorry I’m not sharing my time very well.”
“It’s okay. You sleep in my home. I get you for all your meals. I suppose seeing Ben for an hour or two here and there is okay.”
“How do you feel about…” I wrinkle my nose. “Ya know. Me and him?”
“I think…” He draws in a long breath, as though he needs the time to think, then lets it out again on a grunt. “I think everyone knew it was coming. And we know Ben, we know he’s a good kid. We know he’s looking out for you, so I guess it’s a ‘better the devil you know’ kinda thing. But bring someone else home to meet the family, and we might go a few rounds at the gym.”
“You and the guy?”
“No,” he chuckles. “Me and you.”
When Ben’s lights disappear past the gates, Biggie leads me out of the cold and into the toasty warm house. My family is here, the whole clan, and they rush around and prep a meal for dozens of people. Biggie and I should be helping, but instead of heading to the kitchen, I lead him to the living room and stop in front of the fireplace. He’s curious about my actions, but he doesn’t reject me, and when I drop down onto the couch and tug him with me, he follows me down and sits close enough that I can wrap my arms around his and snuggle in.
“You okay?” He tries to pull back to catch my eyes.
My sisters move through the room. Alexandra is five years younger than me, and Sarah, a year younger than that. They look like the Kincaid side of the family. They have darker hair than me, darker eyes. Obviously, that’s because they’re Kincaids by blood, and I’m not. They have something I never can; they truly belong.
“Honey?” Biggie pulls my face up. “You’re making me worry a little.”
“Do you think it’s weird that I’m not actually related to you?” I know this is worse than whatever he was imagining. “My sisters have Kincaid blood, but I don’t. Did you ever find it hard to love me because of that?”
“What? No!” He pulls back far enough that I can’t keep my arms wrapped around his. He turns on the couch, and lifts one leg so he can face me. “Are you serious? I love you, sweetheart. Have I ever not shown you how much I love you?”
“No, it’s not that.” I take his hand and play with his wedding ring. He’s never not worn it. He’s hopelessly devoted to my mom in the best possible way. “It’s just… Lex and Sarah are yours by blood. You got to make them on purpose. But with me, you were kinda stuck with a kid that you never asked for. I don’t look like you. I don’t act like you. I don’t act like the girls.”
“But I chose you.” He cups my jaw and forces a smile. “I was in love with you long before I even met your mom. I chose you when I didn’t have to. I begged for you. I fought for you. You don’t look like your sisters, but you look like your mom. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kinda obsessed with her.”
I laugh, and shock myself with the way my laughter cracks. “I noticed.”
“Around here, blood isn’t as important as love. You know that, honey, but if I’ve ever, even for one single second, not told you that enough, then I’m sorry. In fact, I thought I’d been laying it on too thick, so I was trying to be the cool dad and throttle it back.”
“Don’t throttle,” I beg. “And no, you haven’t failed at anything. I chose you, too. It doesn’t bother me that we’re not related by blood. I was just curious if it bothered you.”
“Not even a little bit. I have the paperwork that says you’re mine. I took care of that as soon as the judge was awake after the ink on your mom’s and my wedding license was dry.” He twists his hand in mine and holds me close. “I wasn’t given a kid I didn’t want, honey. I begged to keep that little girl, and mourned you when I thought I wouldn’t be able to have you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I cup his hand as it comes up to cup my cheek. “You were my first ever best friend.”
“And now I have to share you with that prick.”
I laugh and think of that prick. “I love him, Biggie.” I open my eyes to meet his. “I know I’m young, but I’m not rushing into anything, so you don’t have to worry about that. My heart knows what it knows. It knows what it’s known since he and I met. He’s gonna be around for a while. But I think you already knew that.”
He nods, and pulls his hand back. “Like I said, better the devil I know. I’ve known that kid since he was four. I’ve trained with him every single day for three years. If he makes you cry, I only have to wait a few hours until he clocks into the gym, then I’ll snap his spine in seven places and call it a workplace accident.”
“So mean,” I laugh.
Mom pokes her head around the corner. “Dinner’s served.”
“Mom?” I reach out before she walks away. “Come here a sec?”
In tight jeans and a bright red sweater, mom walks toward us and shows me almost exactly what I’m going to look like when I’m older. She has straight hair, while I have curls, but the rest is basically a copy and paste.
When she stops in front of us and tilts her head to the side, I grab her hand, and yank her down until she plops into our laps with a squeal. I snuggle in tight, and lay my cheek on her chest, while Biggie’s arms go around us both and his lips go to her hair.
He’s kind of obsessed with her.
“What’s going on? Baby?” Mom brushes long curls out of my eyes. “Is everything okay? Did that prick hurt you? Because I’ll drive to his house and snap his neck.”
Biggie chuckles and shakes his head. “This is why we work.”
“That prick is an amazing man, so stop planning his death. And everything is okay.” I snuggle in and close my eyes for a moment. “Nothing’s wrong, but I’ve been gone for three months, so I needed a hug.”
“Aww, honey.” Mom turns in Biggie’s lap and pulls me against her chest like I’m three again. “You can hug me any time you like.” She presses a kiss to my cheeks. To my eyelids. To my temple. To my hair… She pulls back and glowers. “Why is your hair wet?”
Christmas dinner is loud. Like, super loud, but we already expected that. I have too many aunts and uncles and cousins for us to ever hope for anything quiet.
Bean sits beside me with her quiet confidence. She’s my opposite in every way; she’s dark to my light. Her eyes, her skin tone, her hair. She shares features with her half-brother when the light is exactly right, but I never think of her as Ben’s sister. I think of her as mine. She’s my cousin, and we’ve been in each other’s business since the day she was born.
But more than physical differences, she’s also my opposite in personality. She’s quiet, and has no inclination to demand attention the way I do. She’s smart, and doesn’t have any of the same problems with numbers that I do. She’s an observer, so she’d rather watch the rest of us make dicks of ourselves.
Her silence makes people doubt her. Not us, not her family. But opponents in the octagon. They assume she’s weak and afraid, because she doesn’t showboat the way some others do.
It’s me, I’m the showboater.
She
never talks smack, never gloats, never sets up a challenge.
But she’s capable. And she’d rather let her actions prove that. So when her opponent gets in and promises to mop the floor with the brunette mouse, it always ends the other way around.
Bean has been fighting since before she could walk. Her daddy was a world champion title holder, and she long ago decided she’d rather mop the floor with the loudmouths than get loud back. She has a winning streak that means no one who knows her could say she’s not the best.
I’m not sure why she’s drawn to me, when we’re so different, but we still hang out every day. Our entire childhood was spent attached to each other, and when Mac and Ben joined our troop, no one was pushed out. We just made room for the extras and made it work.
The fearsome foursome; that’s what our parents have called us for years. It’s not a term of endearment, but more like a battle cry.
‘The fearsome foursome is missing. It must be bad.’
‘The fearsome foursome is smiling. You know that’s going to go bad.’
‘The local pet food factory exploded. That must have been the fearsome foursome.’
Her life would include less groundings if she hung out with our other cousins instead of me. But as well as being an amazing fighter, she also possesses loyalty that only a true Kincaid could.
My cousin Bry – Uncle Bobby and Aunt Kit’s oldest son – is our class clown, in a way. But because he’s a boy, he escapes the watchful eyes that Bean and I can’t. Bry hooks up with Aunt Tink’s twin boys, and they blow shit up. They bounce off each other, they create havoc, they expertly pull it off, and they slide back into the estate before curfew – something I’ve yet to manage without being caught.
But like I said – loyalty. We don’t snitch around here, so when the police asked, my lips were sealed, and my knowledge about the pet food factory remained on lockdown.
My mom and aunts have prepared a full spread of turkey and sides for tonight, which means the horde quiets long enough to eat, but not so long that Uncle Jimmy doesn’t start acting up. He’s a grownup, but unlike his daughter, he never mastered the art of maturity.
I think I’ve spent so long people-watching at college that it’s starting to spread to my home life.
Before this year, my family was just my family, and there was nothing to be done about the theatrics and silliness. But now I’ve had three months to practice being present but quiet. I spend the majority of my time sitting on the grass outside our dorm, struggling through my homework. When the timing is right, and Ben isn’t training with Biggie, he’s often on speaker, helping me through my shit. And when he can’t, I still do my homework, and make note of the stuff I tried and failed to understand.
Ben isn’t an exceptionally genius student. He’s not dumb, and his high school grades were pretty decent, but it’s not like he possesses the genius gene Liv does. But he’s smart enough to work through my college homework with logic. He might not know the answer when I call him in frustration, but he’s able to talk it through, and help me wrap my brain around the numbers that refuse to be still on my page.
Three months in my new life, and the person I’ve spoken to most is back home. I’m a social creature by nature, but I’m not exploring my new surroundings. I’m closing myself off from people who want to say hi. If they approach with a friendly smile, more often than not, I plug earphones into my ears and call Ben.
It’s a fault, I know. But I’ve yet to accept that being away is my new reality. Four years is a long time, and by the time those years are over, they’ll have taken up a quarter of my life. I’m not okay with that.
The person I see the most, Clair, the horny roommate that made such a wonderful impression on my first day, is… not sorry for her actions. She’s a little more careful with the times she invites her man into our room, but she hasn’t cut him off, and it’s not my business to say he can’t come in. So I sleep when it’s time to sleep, and leave our room when he turns up.
It’s a system that has worked for three months. One I’m not sure I’ll break until my mom says I can come home.
“I’d like to say something.” My Uncle Jack, the youngest of the grownups, lifts a glass of water and stands from his chair opposite mine.
His wife, Britt, sits right beside him with a basketball belly filled with their second child, and their firstborn son sitting to her left. Over the years, I’ve had best friends, also known as boyfriends, rather than what they’re supposed to be known by.
Uncles.
Uncle Jack is the one who has straddled the line between grown and teen. He wanted to have my back, even when he knew I was being naughty. He covered me more than once, and made up lies about my behavior, all in an effort to be the cool uncle. He didn’t lie about things that were truly serious. He would never betray my parents that way. But when the ice cream was eaten and the tub was left in the fridge – he would play dumb, despite knowing it was me and him that inhaled it at midnight.
He and I have always had a special relationship, so when he stands and stares straight into my eyes, my belly flip-flops with nerves.
“I just wanted to say something about our golden girl.” This grabs everyone’s attention, adults and children alike, as they stop eating and pay attention to him. “Evie was our very first baby. I was only sixteen when she moved in and turned our world upside down, but despite the shit that–”
“No swearing, Jack!” Kit tosses a bread roll that pings off his chest and lands in the salad.
Laughing, he brushes crumbs off his shirt. “Despite the shiznit our girl has endured, and I know we can all agree it’s been a lot, she continues to get back up and dust herself off. She’s been to hell and back a dozen times in her seventeen short years, but despite being knocked down, she climbs up and knocks her troubles the fuck out.”
“Jack!”
He rolls his eyes then meets mine. “The point is it’s not easy being the oldest. You’re held to a higher standard, you’re expected to be a positive influence for everyone else. Whenever someone wanted a babysitter over the years, it was always you who had to drop your shit and do it. Add on top that you’re a girl, and we know the double standards are painful. We know you’re held close, and if you want any kind of freedom, you’re forced to sneak out, Hogan’s Heroes style. We understand our faults, Bug. We know we’re not always perfect…” He pauses. “But you are. You’re the best niece a guy could ask for. The best guinea pig a bunch of idiots could ask for, knowing none of us were mature enough for a kid, but we still got you, and you made it the most fun ever.”
“Uncle Jack,” my lip quivers. “Stop.”
“No, Bug. I’m not done. We know you’re not happy being away at college. None of us are here, forgetting about you. We speak to you daily, and we know your calls home are a cry for help. We know you’re so brave for being the trailblazer, and we know we’ve picked you up from everything you know, and placed you somewhere else. I guess the point is, we know. We know you’re doing something you don’t want to do, and we know you miss home. I miss you so much, baby. And I know everyone else does too. You were our first baby, and not one of us is living our life oblivious to your absence. You’re so brave, and you’re doing it. You’re doing something many of us didn’t. You’re getting an education, and you’re gonna come back, guns blazing. Your home is here, Bug. Your bed will always be here. But first, you have to do this.”
“Wrap it up,” Uncle Bobby jests. “You’re getting emotional.”
Jack flips his brother-in-law two middle fingers. Then he looks back to me. “I’m just saying I’m proud of you. You’re gonna do great things, and I’m so happy I get to say I knew you before you got famous.”
Hours after that speech, I find myself laying in the very same bed Biggie purchased when he asked Mom to risk everything she’d built and move in with him. The frame is white, the metal swirls in beautiful flowery shapes. It squeaks now, and is bordering on too short for me, but I’ve never asked to repl
ace it.
Biggie chose me, and he showed that choice by buying me the set in this bedroom.
One day, when I’m grown and have my own home, I intend to move this bed and give it to my baby girl when I have one. She’s going to have dark Conner hair, and bright blue eyes. She’ll have a pottymouth that I probably won’t try hard enough to curb, and she’ll take my place as the apple in Ben’s eye. And that’ll be fine with me. Because Ben is man enough, and loving enough, to have two of us.
My phone dings at nine-thirty – later than our usual, but not late considering neither of us are getting up early – so I take it from beneath my pillow and smile when Ben’s name flashes.
Ready to talk? I have something I wanna ask you.
My heart gallops, but instead of replying, I hit dial and wait only a second before he picks up.
“Hello?”
A grin stretches my face when his voice etches itself straight into my soul. My room is dark, the lights outside the only illumination I have as they work through their Christmas colors and bathe my room in greens and reds. “Hey, Sasquatch. You’re late.”
The stubble on his chin bristles against the phone as I imagine him lying in bed, just like me. “Sorry. Ma wanted to feed me extra dessert, and everyone knows you don’t say no to Ma when she wants to feed you.”
“That’s the truth,” I laugh.
Ma is Oz’s quasi-mom, and she takes care of everyone she cares about. Ben cares about me, and Ma loves Ben possibly more than she loves Oz, which means I’ve had cake stuffed down my throat on more than one occasion over the years. That woman is easily a hundred and fifty years old, but she’s sharp and smart, and she doesn’t miss a thing.
She knew who blew up the pet food factory – that’s all I’m saying.
“How was dinner?” Ben asks. He sounds sleepy, though I know he’s not. Mostly, I think he’s cozied into bed and ready to devote the rest of his night to me. “Did anyone catch anything on fire?”
“No. But Jack made a speech about me that got all gooey. It made me feel weird.”
