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“Am I talking too much? Sometimes the people I used to stay with said I talked too much.”
“No, buddy. You aren’t talking too much.” What the fuck do I say to this kid? I need to say something, but I’m not qualified.
“Oh, good.” While I’m trying to get my head to stop spinning, he tells me a story about a time Kevin Peyton and his then friend, now wife, took them to a bike track to teach them all how to ride. He’s so animated, talking like he’s still on the track on his quad. The whole time I listen to this kid talk, I realize how much I’ve fallen in love with him and how much Jess would absolutely adore him.
The weight settles in my heart, and I feel my mood turning black. “Hey, Israel. How do you feel about a balloon fight?”
“Really? Now?”
“Yeah, now. Why not?”
“Alright! I’ll get the kids. You get the balloons.”
A smile stretches across my face. “I’m on it.”
***
“Give me five?” Dylan is all smiles as she sets her phone down on the stand so she can video call with me and feed the baby otter at the same time. It suits her. Well, not feeding an otter, but the motherly instinct she has, and it punches me in the gut that she’s about to give all that up. I know she’s making the right decision for herself, no matter how much it hurts. She settles back into the chair and beams at me. “How was your day?”
“Some of it was really great, and others were fucking rough. As in heartbreakingly rough.”
I see the surprise flash briefly across her face before she collects herself and schools her features into an impassive expression. I don’t blame her for being shocked. I’ve never voluntarily talked about my feelings before.
“Oh? How so?” Jesus, she’s a terrible actor.
I think about Israel and how he was so fucking brave today. How he laid it all out on the table and how I’m too fucking scared to open up. I say it’s because I want to protect everyone else, but really, it’s because I need to protect myself. When Mom and Dad died, I just shut down. Refusing to feel anything, I threw myself into my missions with an undeniable ferocity. If I was out there saving everyone else in the world, I could make up for not being able to save Rubi or my parents.
“I miss her, Squeak. I miss her so fucking much it hurts. Today Israel and I were knitting,” I see her eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t interrupt me. I told her about Israel every day when I called her, but I bet she’d never in a million years think the kid could convince me to knit. “And he told me about the fucking awful things he’s been through. All I could think about was how Jess would know just what to say to him. How much she’d fucking love him. How just being with her would soothe all the hurt I’m going through. How I hurt her. How she became collateral damage from all my baggage.” I feel my chest tighten and my eyes well.
Dylan’s brow furrows, and she moves closer to the screen as if she can get closer to me.
“Chris.”
“I didn’t let her in, Dylan. I don’t think I’ve let anyone in since Mom and Dad died. You somehow bulldoze your way into my life and pry me open, but Jess, she tried, and I didn’t let her in.”
“If you had the chance, what would you do differently?”
“I’d tell you how much I love you, how sorry I am that you had to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Aunt Caroline that first year. How guilty I feel over not being there for you more. How I wish I let you in more.”
She laughs, and the otter gets a fright and squeals. “Oh, sorry, little lamb. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dylan kisses the otter on the head.
“Not me, you big oaf. What would you do differently with Jess?”
“Everything.” I’d do fucking everything differently.
“When am I fetching you at the airport?”
I grin into the screen. “When did you get so smart?”
“Big brother, I’ve always been the smartest of the two of us. You’re just too dumb to see it.”
