Page 40 of Oddly Fine

“No!” Nathan yelled, pounding his little fists against Beckett’s back in protest. “Put. Me. Down!” he shouted angrily as he kept hitting Beckett.

“Where are y’all’s bedrooms?” Beckett asked Lilac, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open in astonishment. Apparently, she’d suddenly lost her ability to speak as she pointed mutely up the stairs.

“You got these two?” Beckett asked Hayes, pointing towards Lilac and Jameson.

“Yes, I think so—” Hayes said hesitantly, wondering about Beckett’s methods of parenting.

“Great!” he responded, before leaving them behind and heading up the stairs towards the kids’ bedrooms.

“It’s not—fairrrrr——” Nathan wailed. He was crying now, clearly unravelling. “Jameson always——” he hiccupped, struggling to catch his breath, “gets me in trouble!”

Beckett listened but didn’t reply, merely bit back his smile. How many times had he yelled or debated the same kinds of things with his own parents when he was annoyed or fed up with one of his older siblings? Hell, he felt for the kid, he really did. There was no worse feeling in the world than the sheer frustration of trying to talk and finding yourself incapable of it because you were hiccupping from tears born of pent up frustration.

The triplets had two separate bedrooms. One for Lilac, and one for the boys. Beckett veered left into the boys’ room, shut the door, set Nathan back on his feet, and turned on the overhead light. The room was split down the middle when it came to decor. One side of the room was decorated in a sports theme, with posters of hockey and soccer players on the walls, and the duvet cover showed a colorful collection of sports equipment. As soon as Nathan’s feet hit the floor, he stomped his way over to the other side, which featured a galactic theme. The duvet cover was patterned with a night sky filled with stars, planets, and galaxies. The bookcase next to his bed was filled with astronomy books and he even had a telescope by the window. Beckett briefly wondered if he’d outgrow his fascination with the night sky before he found a different use for that telescope.

“It’s not fair!” Nathan repeated, for the hundredth time. Kicking the foot of his bed, he didn’t wince or complain about hurting himself. He just plopped down on the mattress, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at the floor, refusing to look at Beckett.

“Sucks to be you,” Beckett acknowledged with a quick shrug. “You made your choice, now it’s sleepy time.”

“Jameson never gets into trouble!” Nathan shouted indignantly, eyes red-rimmed from crying. “I’m always getting punished because he won’t shut up.”

Beckett knew that wasn’t the case since he’d been there the night that Jameson had gotten severely scolded for giving their dog a haircut, but he kept that to himself.

“Don’t say shut up,” Beckett corrected him instead, because it sounded like the right thing to do.

“You said it,” Nathan said, scowling.

“I’m an adult.”

Nathan merely growled at that and went back to sulking.

With a sigh, Beckett gave in his inclination to talk this out with Nathan and walked over to sit down on the end of the bed. He’d been a kid once, too, and had suffered his fair share of slings and arrows because of sibling rivalries, which always sucked, so he was on painfully familiar ground talking with Nathan about his problems.

“Listen—I have two brothers and a sister. I know what it’s like with siblings—they make you want to punch them out of existence.”

Nathan looked up at him then, sniffling and chuckling like Beckett had said something he shouldn’t have. “You punched your siblings?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, not oft—” but then he caught himself. “No. Never. Violence is—eh—never the solution, and all that,” he advised, backpedalling quickly. “What I’m saying is, I know sometimes it feels unfair. But you hit Jameson, and that’s a big no-no.”

“He deserved it,” Nathan responded, unrepentant.

“Doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t,” Beckett said, shaking his head. “You don’t hit people. Never.”

“Never?” Nathan asked, scrutinizing Beckett’s face as if looking for a way to call him out on his bullshit.

“Never,” Beckett said, unwilling to admit there were notable exceptions. Mostly because Beckett didn’t know how to say “well, except for dimwitted assholes, people who are threatening you on planes, and any other scenario where it feels like it would be easier if they just—weren’t around anymore” in a way a kid would understand.

“Besides, Hayes and I gave you a chance to apologize, and you didn’t take it, so—” he shrugged, and gestured around the room. “You made your bed, now you gotta lie in it.”

“What?” Nathan asked, baffled by the expression.

“It’s an expression. Means when you fuck up, you have to live with the consequences of your fuck up.”

“That’s two dollars in the swear jar,” Nathan informed him with a smug grin.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll ask the tooth fairy to lend me a few dollars. Now get to bed,” Beckett said, as he got to his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for his directive to be followed.

Nathan pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets. He grabbed the planet-shaped plushy from the end of his bed and cuddled it as he turned to lie on his side.