My brother won’t stop casting glances. Each one leaves me guessing, wondering what he’s really up to.
“Think I’ll head upstairs for an hour or two,” mom says quietly, once the movie ends. “I’m feeling oddly inspired. Something about the year rolling over, I suppose.”
It’s hardly that, judging by the smirk she’s been wearing since I stepped in. I don’t want to contemplate what’s happening in her head, or if it’ll lead to a new outburst. Dad smiles at us and rises with her, whispering something about keeping her company.
My eyes go straight to the big painting on the wall. It’s an elk standing quietly in a snowy forest, a cabin behind it, tucked into the pristine blue mountains beyond.
Probably a scene mom remembers from growing up in Montana. It’s been there since I was fourteen, one of her finest works, a relic from her natural phase that also sold like crazy.
“I remember that year,” Jackson says. He’s caught me looking. “Happiest I’ve ever seen her. Mom’s muse was strong then. She had something new coming out every week, sent pictures of everything to base. Only thing I looked forward to more than cookies, I think.”
Smiling, Ginger nuzzles into him, rubbing his arm. It’s the one that’s deformed, forever scorched by the hellish sacrifices he made on Afghan soil. Asshole or not, I appreciate him, even if he spends his hero capital a little more freely than I’d like.
“Yeah, well, maybe she’ll get back to it someday.” I hope to God I’m right. “Is it just me or does she seem…normal today?”
“Give it a few more hours, closer to midnight. Dad made her stop those timed work exercises because they made her so anxious. Stressed her the hell out. Her sense of time is all screwed up, but who can blame her? There’s no stopping the future. It grinds on and people do whatever the fuck they want.”
My eyes narrow. I fold my arms, suddenly sensing cold. “Care to explain what you’re getting at?”
“Nothing, sis. Nothing at all.” He pauses. “I’ve basically accepted your decision, in case you wondered. No point in getting bent out of shape anymore. You’re a grown woman. You’ll make your own mistakes. If you want to make bank for awhile babysitting for the bastard who almost broke my jaw, be my fucking guest, Sadie.”
He’s always been a jack(ass) of many trades, but I think the one he’s mastered is leaving me speechless, choking on my own guilt. I sit there helplessly as he stomps past, swiping a beer from the kitchen, a sad looking Ginger shooting me apologetic looks.
They get to me more today than his disgusting attitude for some crazy reason. “I think I’d better go. Mom and dad won’t be coming back down, anyway.” I grab my purse, digging in the front pocket for my keys.
“Stay! I’m sure my lovely husband didn’t really mean anything by it…” She’s fighting so hard. Probably because she wonders what things will be like next year, with a newborn. Fair, I suppose, as much as it annoys me. “I said he didn’t mean anything – did you, honey?”
Jackson aims an annoyed look at his wife. His eyes are on her as he rejoins us, stopping short of the sectional end where she’s parked for the evening. He turns, his pissed off gaze softening. “Ginger’s right. I’ve been a royal asshole, and I’m sorry. Stand up, sis, will you?”
I humor him. I’m glad I do because a second later, Jackson does something he hasn’t done since his pre-army days, when he was still that smiling, lean kid with a chip on his shoulder and big dreams.
He embraces me. And he means it.
Hello, heartbreak.
“I’m sorry. You deserve better than I’ve given the last few months. That’s done.” Jackson’s arms go tighter, bringing me back to a kinder, gentler brother I thought I’d lost in the war.
The tears break, rolling heavy down my cheeks. “No, no, I’m sorry, too. I should have come clean right away, working for him.”
“Forget it.” He’s smiling when he pulls away, an understanding I didn’t think he had on his lips. “Things keep changing. Mostly shit we can’t control. Mom, dad, babies getting closer by the day…maybe it’s just the season making me think, but I’ve realized something lately, sis. I need to roll with the punches. Shut up and adapt. Because there’s no use trying to control how they land. Usually just makes it harder.”
Grabbing his hands, I give them a squeeze. Ginger comes up behind him, very moved, and wraps her hands around his waist. There hasn’t been a family moment like this for…God knows.
I still feel a little guilty, but it’s that soft, antsy butterfly guilt. A refreshing break from the forced kind my brother usually makes me feel.
I don’t want to leave.
“How long will you be around tonight, Sadie?” Ginger asks, a hopeful note in her voice.