Page 31 of Restored Dreams

Brut seems hesitant about the zoo, but I decide to let the issue drop when he swears he wants to go. Twenty minutes after leaving the house, we park at one of the most famous zoos in the world. I haven’t been to one since I was a kid. Considering I thought I’d be a mother one day, I believed visits to the zoo would be a staple in my life. The thought hits me hard for a moment—because I’m not a mother.

“Did you take Chopper to the zoo often when he was a child?” I ask Brut as we cross the parking lot for the ticket booth.

“I didn’t actually.” He’s quiet for a second. “I did what I could, but I didn’t have much extra cash when Chopper was little. Pop had all the funds tied up in the shop or gambled away.”

We step up to the counter, and Brut pulls out his wallet.

“I got it,” I offer, but he levels me with a glare when he says, “This is my date. I pay.”

I’m a modern woman who can cover her own expenses, but I appreciate his gentlemanly command that he pay for our day. We receive the admission tickets and cross into the official park.

“Your date, huh?” I huff teasingly, looping my arm through his.

“Our first ever.” He kisses me briefly before flipping open the extensive map, and I stare at him. He’s right. This is our first date. When I was younger, I’d often sneak into the garage after hours. We didn’t go anywhere. We stayed in the office. We made out on the couch. Sometimes, we’d go for long drives in a car he finished, but we never went on dates. Once we went to a concert, but it was a disaster. We also never had sex.

“What?” Brut asks, interrupting my thoughts. Asking him why we never went out is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite back the question. No thoughts of the past.

“Nothing,” I lie, tightening my arm on his.

Observing the map, we realize there is no way to see everything in one day, so we narrow it down by selecting two general exhibits apiece. I choose the pandas first, and Brut wants the big cats next. With a plan mapped out, we begin our date.

Standing in front of the panda bears, Brut stares as one gnaws on bamboo.

“You know, I’ve never lived anywhere other than my dad’s house.” The out-of-the-blue comment surprises me, and I’m sad for Brut. Considering he still lives in the same house he grew up in, he hasn’t had the adventure of packing boxes, physically moving, or living anywhere different.

“Why didn’t you move out?”

Brut leans with his forearms on the railing and his hands clasp together as he watches the bears.

“I guess it just seemed easier to stay.” His tone is somber as his brows pinch. He’s quiet for another second. “When Chopper arrived, I needed help because I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know how to be a parent. Not that Pop was a great role model, but he didn’t kick me out, so I stayed. When he died, I inherited the house.” He nods to the black and white novelty before us. “I’m like him. Trapped in captivity. In the same place where I started.”

“You don’t like working in the garage, do you?”

“It’s not that.” He turns his head to me. “I’m just stuck. I think I’ve grown complacent to the garage. I mean, I own it. It’s mine in name although I try to be fair to Hank.” Brut’s brother was once a famous musician. He doesn’t need the money the garage provides, but Brut has always been a good older brother. Life wasn’t always easy with Hank, the superstar, as his younger sibling.

“What about teaching? Why not go back to school?”

“You sound like Hank.” He chuckles. “But I’m too old.”

“I never believe that,” I say quickly. “You’re forty-five, Brut. If you’ve only lived half your life, what will you do with the other half, especially if you aren’t happy?”

His eyes scan my face before he turns back to observe the pandas.

“I’m not unhappy; I’m just…” The words fall away as he twists his lips.

“Incomplete?” I ask softly. I might know how he feels if he agrees with me.

“Maybe.” He scoffs lightly.

“What about moving? If you feel you’ve been in one place too long, then move.”

“It’s not that simple,” he says.

“You’re making it too easy to stay.” I laugh with a wink, but there’s a serious edge to my tone. I’ve moved more times than I can remember. Left home as soon as I could at twenty to move in with Brad. Slept on a friend’s couch for a summer after him. Lived in a commune-style home for a while. Got my first studio apartment. Then opened the bakery.

“It’s not that. The house is all mine, but it’s dated. I’d need to renovate to sell, and I just haven’t had the motivation to do it. With Hank moving out, it’s been strange. Chopper will leave soon, too, I suppose. It’s weird to think I’ll finally have the place to myself.” The list Brut sounds as though he’s trying to find an excuse to go, but his tone suggests he isn’t convinced to leave.

“Update it then, like you said. It sounds like the perfect time if everyone else is moving. Make it what you want. I could help.” I bite my lip the second I offer. One week. My suggestion implies more time, and I don’t want to ask. I don’t even want to hint. Thinking ahead would only bring heartache. Who am I kidding, though? I know when this week ends, I won’t be able to walk away as easily as I think.