Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
As long as they’re around, I can typically have a drink or two, but the quick plummet from “I feel fantastic and love everyone” to “Oh my God, what have I done?”, and wasting a whole day recovering from a hangover, was a lesson I only needed to learn once. Ever since, I drink sparingly and almost never hard liquor.
But it’s a special occasion tonight. I just scored four goals, I got into Dartmouth, my birthday is coming up, and the lawyer got Iron off with community service if he promises to also attend counseling.
As if a therapist is going to help my brother not slam a waiter’s head into a table for getting smart with him. I wish I could say Iron risks his freedom for something more substantial, like money or power, but honestly, I’d think less of him if he were that shallow. The anger, I understand.
And he only uses it on others. Never his family.
We sit outside, the sea breeze beyond the swamp blowing through the cypresses and tupelos, the scent of the moss stinging my nostrils, but quickly calmed by the sand and salt following it.
Everyone slams their glasses down on the wooden table, the wind cooling my scalp and making the umbrellas flap overhead.
I dig into my ice cream sundae as Aracely drops two platters of crawfish onto the table and sits. She dated Iron, then Dallas, and now Army uses her to help with Dex, even though she’s not his mother. We all know she’s just in between brothers temporarily, so she just kind of sticks around as an honorary member of the family to help out. And to be a pain in my ass. Like the sister I never wanted.
Army fills his beer from the pitcher, and Dallas and Trace dig into the seafood, pinching off the tails, sucking the heads, and grab the meat with their teeth. In no time, the newspaper covering the table is littered with decapitated crawdads, and I laugh as Army shows his son how to peel a shell.
I stare at Dex, my smile faltering. I’m going to miss a lot when I do leave, won’t I? His first steps and first words. And after I’m gone, who will be next? Trace, maybe? He’s searching for his niche away from our older brothers.
Dallas, most definitely. All he’s waiting for is someone to go first and give him permission to seek out the things Macon tells us we’re selfish for wanting.
Army will marry someone to give Dex a mom, and Iron may end up in prison regardless of whether or not I stay.
But I look around the table at all the faces, the big smiles and bright eyes and how they look like they have everything they need, right here, right now, because we have each other.
It’s not enough for me. It’s never been enough. But I don’t want it to change either. When I come back home, I want to know they’re here. All of them. On our land. Safe and sound.
The key sits in the bag on the back of my chair, weighing heavy on my mind.
I wish Macon was here. Not at home, avoiding us, too consumed with his responsibilities to enjoy his family.
I don’t remember my father well. There are images. Feelings. That’s it. I was too young, but when I think about what I do remember, it’s almost as if he was another brother. He never disciplined me, yelled at me, or lost his temper. Iron and Dallas took the lead on that when I made a mess or failed a test or sassed back.
My father, I only saw at the end of the day. When he was tired. Relaxed. Happy to be home from work. I would sit with him on the recliner, eating popcorn and watching Ironman. It was like spending time with Trace, my friends, or a grandpa you only spent minimal hours with once a month.
Macon had joined the military by the time I was old enough to remember anything. Significantly older than me, he was the one I feared when I should’ve feared my father. Here was this soldier I didn’t know walking through our front door once a year, always lurking around the perimeter of a room, there but never quite present. He didn’t smile as easily as Army, or crack jokes like Trace. I never felt safe enough to wrap myself around his leg, torturing him until he gave me a brownie like I did with Dallas, and he was never around to protect me like Iron.
And while I knew he was my parents’ first and was raised in our house, I started to wonder more as I grew older if he’d ever really lived with any of these people. I wasn’t the only one he seemed cold to.