“So,tell me more about how they hated Brendan.”
***
“So,”Mom said, sitting at the edge of my bed, “we were thinking that, for now, youcould put a crib or bassinet in here for Alex. Then, as he gets a little olderand ready to have his own space, we could fix up the room next door for him.”
“Andyou’d obviously have your own bathroom, too,” Dad chimed in. “So, really, you’donly ever be sharing the living room and kitchen with us.”
Ilaughed, dropping onto Goose’s lap on the window seat overlooking the backyard.“You guys are acting like I hate living with you or something,” I said,wrapping my arms around his neck. “I don’t need separation.”
“No,we know you don’t,” Mom insisted. “But you’re also going to be raising yourbaby and I’m sure you’ll eventuallywantsome separation from us.Especially after you’ve had your own place.”
“And,” Dad interjected, pointing at Goose, “when this guycomes to stay, you don’t want us on top of you, right?”
Itook a peekover my shoulder, to watch as Goose’s eyeswidened, as if to say I told you so. Then, I laughed and said, “Goose doesn’tmind. He loves you guys, too.”
“It’strue,” he agreed with a lopsided smile.
“Anyway,we just wanted to talk about it a little,” Mom said. “You know, throw aroundsome ideas and whatever. And a few of your aunts and I were talking aboutthrowing you that baby shower we were—”
“Wait,what?” I cut her off abruptly.
Mom’slips flapped a few times, startled by my abrupt interruption, before saying,“Well, you never had one, and I know it was something we had talked about, so Ithought—”
“Ireally don’t want one,” I said, perhaps a little harsher than was necessary.
“Butpeople just want to show they care. They want to—”
“Then,if they really want to, they can send me something. But I don’t want a shower,”I said, as my already tense emotions wound themselves just a little tighter.
Goosewrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed. “Hey, it’s okay—”
“No,it’snot,” I said, raising my voice a little. “I don’t want a party. Idon’t want to celebrate. I am still in the scariest time of my life right nowand I have no idea what’s going to happentomorrow, let alone nextweekend. Why the hell would I want to have a goddamnpartyin the middleof that?”
Mom’sfeatures softened, as she shook her head. “Kenny, you know it’s just becausepeople care. They just want to do something nice for you.Iwant to dosomething nice for you.”
Logictold me that was true, and the rational, “go with the flow” part of me wantedto just go along with it, just to avoid the confrontation. But then, there wasthe part of me who was always battling the silent enemy in my head, the one whowas still working through the trauma and fear of having a special needs baby. Icould see no rational reason to put myself in a situation that I knew wouldtrigger my emotions.
AndI hoped to God my mother, one of my best friends, would respect that.
“WhenI came home from Iraq,” Goose said, speaking calmly, “my dad wanted to throw awelcome home party for me, because I mean, he was happy I was back and alive,and so was everyone else.
“Butthe thing was, I didn’twanta party. I was all kinds of screwed up. Myfriends were dead, I was alive, I was in pain …” He blew out a loud breath andshook his head. “Between the guilt of surviving and the trauma of going throughthat … whole thing … The last thing I wanted to do was celebrate. There wasnothingtocelebrate, in my opinion. But my dad had insisted because Iwas, to him,some kind of herofor … I still don’tknow.”
Hecleared his throat and went on, as he reached down to lay a hand against Tony’shead. “Anyway, he threw the party despite how much I insisted that I didn’twant it. And I got pissed at him for disrespecting my wishes, not to mentionignoring the mental disorder I was struggling to cope with. So, I took a couplebottles of Jack from the bar and didn’t speak to him for the rest of theweekend.”
Thethree of us—Mom, Dad, and me—all looked at him, taken by his story. His cheeksburned with the embarrassment of having all eyes on him and he lifted one sideof his mouth in a smile.
“WhatI’m saying is, don’t do what my dad did to me. His heart was in the rightplace, but his reasons for doing it were ultimately selfish. I hope you won’tbe like that, too.”
Momsucked her teeth, eyeing him studiously, and for a moment, I thought she mightlash out on him for taking a stand against her. But God, I loved him so muchfor it, and when she finally smiled and relented with a gentle, “Okay,” I lovedhim even more.
***
It wasa gorgeous day in late spring, so my parents suggested we take a walk afterlunch. With Tony leading the way and my fingers intertwined with Goose’s, wetook a stroll around the neighborhood. I tipped my head back to feel the sun,warm and fresh against my skin, and after what had felt like the longest,coldest winter of my life, I relished in the comfort of a more promisingsummer.
“It’snice around here,” Goose commented, and I turned to find the smile missing fromhis rugged face.
“Yeah,I love it.”
