Page 34 of ’Til You Break

“I can’t believe you got him to come,” Mom whispers into my ear.

Vik’s close enough to hear every word, but he gives no sign that he has.

“Neither can I.” I glance over my shoulder and give him a playful wink.

It happens without thinking. Almost like I’m trying to ease some of the tension pressing down on him. Even though he doesn’t need me to.

“Son,” Damian says. “It’s good to see you.”

“Happy birthday.” Vik offers his hand.

Damian brushes it aside and pulls him into a hug instead. Vik pats him twice on the back. Awkwardly.

We finish the greetings before heading inside. Mom announces lunch will be ready in an hour... “Or probably two,” she laughs before disappearing into the kitchen.

Vik and I settle into the same spots we’ve occupied since we were kids. Him at the far end of the sofa, as far from everyone else as possible. Me a few cushions away, tucked in close to our parents.

“Big game’s on,” Damian says. “You much of a sports guy?” The question lands harder than it should. I know things between them are strained, but hearing Dad ask something so basic makes me realize just how little they know about each other.

“Not particularly.”

The conversation dies almost instantly.

Damian clears his throat before taking another drink.

“Still rooting for the Longhorns?” Without Mom here, it’s up to me to stop the silence swallowing the room. “Or have you finally come around to supporting the Giants?”

“Longhorns all the way.” Damian chuckles. “You can take a man out of Texas, but you’ll never take Texas out of the man.”

“Make Texas a stripper,” Mom calls from the kitchen between fits of laughter, “and you’ve got the beginning of a very dirty joke, hon.”

Damian and I laugh.

Vik doesn’t.

Lunch follows much the same pattern. Every attempt the two men make to connect ends in awkward silences, clipped replies, and me trying to stitch the conversation back together.

God...

It’s frighteningly easy to slip back into old routines. I’d forgotten how bad things used to be. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

The hour before lunch feels endless, although eating at least gives everyone something else to focus on. I’d thank the food if it could hear me.

By the time lunch is winding down, Vik is clearly ready to leave.

He came. He did what they wanted. Now he’s ready to disappear for another decade.

A knock at the door ruins his escape.

Almost grateful for the interruption, Damian hurries to answer it. It’s one of the neighbors from a few doors down. Before long they’re admiring the Phantom and laughing together. Mom joins them outside, quietly closing the door behind her.

And then there are two. Memories of our childhood come rushing back. Vik sitting exactly where he is now. A storm brewing behind his eyes. Furious about something Dad had done or said, yet unable to walk away.

But we’re not children anymore. He doesn’t have to face this alone. I slip my hand beneath the table and rest it on his knee, just as he did for me in the car.

“Are you okay?”

I’m the one who brought him here.