I nearly sag with relief.If I had to go home without it, the day would’ve felt ten times worse.
I pay quickly and head home, determined to shake off the strange encounter.A shower and some dinner with my family should do the trick.
Half an hour later, I pull into my sister’s driveway, only fifteen minutes from my place.My parents' house isn’t far either.We’re a close-knit family.It’s nosy sometimes, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Her house is a cozy, green two-story with white trim and a bright red door that always makes me smile.The front garden is neat but bursting with color.Aria’s pink bike is half-toppled near the porch, and chalk drawings cover the sidewalk: names, flowers, and rainbows.
I knock on the door.When I don't hear anything, I figure they must be out the back, so I walk around, slipping through the white picket gate and letting myself into the backyard.
It’s a decent spring night, the air carrying the smell of cut grass and some kind of flowers.The backyard looks like kid central: a wooden playset with swings and a slide, a trampoline shoved into the corner, and a sandbox with plastic buckets and shovels scattered around.String lights hang across the patio, where I spot Rocco at the barbecue, flipping chicken thighs over open flames.
“Hey, man,” he says when he notices me walk in, lifting the tongs in greeting.
“Hi.”I take in the spicy, sweet-and-sour scent of the chicken, which is his specialty.“Smells good.I brought the salad and some bread.Where’s everyone?”
“They’re all inside,” he says, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his back pocket.
Before I can answer, a high-pitched squeal cuts through the air.“Uncle B!Uncle B!”
I spot Aria, my niece, barreling toward me from the side yard.I barely have time to drop the bag before she launches into my arms.Scooping her up, I fly her into the air, catching her as she giggles uncontrollably.Her laughter bubbles up into the night sky, and just like that, the tension from my day melts away.
“How's my favorite girl?”I ask, tickling her sides until she cackles and wriggles like a worm.
“Good!Good!Let me go, let me go!”she squeals between giggles.
I ease off and settle her on my hip.“I might’ve brought something for you,” I tease, raising my eyebrows dramatically.
Her hazel eyes brighten.“What is it?What is it, Uncle B?”
Grabbing the grocery bag off the patio floor, I carry her inside.The sliding glass door sticks a little, and I have to give it a good shove with my shoulder.
Inside, the house smells like roasted garlic.The walls are painted in soft neutrals, cozy and homey, with family photos lining the hallway: wedding shots, baby and vacation pictures.Toys are scattered everywhere: Barbies, coloring books, a doll stroller parked by the stairs.It’s messy, but filled with life.This is what a family home is supposed to look like.
“Come with me.I’ll give it to you once we check with your mom.She might say no,” I tell her, making a big show of whispering.
“I might say no to what?”my sister, Bridget, calls from the kitchen, where she’s chopping vegetables at the island.
“I bought her something,” I say, setting Aria down.
I kneel, dig into the bag, and pull out the giant rainbow-colored lollipop I'd grabbed earlier.
Aria gasps, clutching her hands to her chest.“Please, Mom, can I have it now?I promise I’ll eat all my dinner,” she pleads as she puts on her best innocent face.
Half-laughing, my sister shakes her head at me.“You know, you're going to get payback when you have kids.”
I laugh too, but there’s a tightness in my chest at the thought.My sister’s two years older than me, at 37.We've always been close.I'd always imagined we’d have kids close in age, cousins growing up side by side, but life doesn’t always work out the way you picture it.
I'd love kids...but it’s not like I’m dating.Not even looking.Between the long hours and pushing for Chief of Pediatrics, it feels far away, like something meant for a different version of me.One who isn’t trying to prove he deserves to run the whole ward.
I head into the kitchen and spot Mom fluffing around, loading plates, and fiddling with the potato salad.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Oh, hi, love.”She beams up at me, brushing a hand over my arm.
“Where do you want the Cobb salad?I've got a breadstick too… Just need to chop it and butter it,” I say, hoisting the grocery bag onto the counter.
“I've got it.”She’s already reaching for the salad and bread before I can protest.
