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“I’m on the apps again,” Trevor follows up.
“You are? Which ones?”
“The usual suspects. But I’ve found one I really like called Gimme.”
“Gimme? Sounds…creepy.”
We’re interrupted by Dara who pushes two plates in front of us. “Cake?”
I smile down at her. I’m the tallest of the Hawthorn clan at a whopping, awkward six-foot-seven. And Dara is so tiny. I call her a pixie; she calls me a giant. Two fantastical characters have never gotten on so splendidly (especially since one of them makes such delicious baked goods). “Thanks, Dar.”
“You got it,” she says with a sweet smile.
“Congratulations, by the way,” Trevor says to her with a nod toward the twins. “You must be really proud.”
“Oh, thanks, Trev.” As the newest addition to the Hawthorn clan, save any babies, Dara fits it marvelously with her bubbly personality. She glances at the boys who now have cake all over themselves. Trip is pushing a handful at Keifer and, in classicdad fashion, Keifer is pretending to eat his whole hand. “I don’t know ifproudis the word for it, though.”
“What is the word for it, then?” I ask, swallowing a mouthful of cake.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t describe it.” Then, she pats my arm. “You’ll know when you’re a dad someday.”
I purse my lips and say nothing. I’m used to it by now. Being the only non-parent in the family is a constant alienation.
I’ve withstood it thus far. But now I’m starting to wonder when is it going to push me over the edge.
“Did we really have to have a family dinner tonight? I just saw everybodyyesterday,” Piper whines, sinking so low in her chair she’s almost below the table.
Piper, the eldest child in the family, is already six. Six! I can’t even believe it. I remember holding her in the hospital and telling Jarred that she was just a little peanut. Now, she’s a first grader.
Time fucking flies.
“Piper, shhh! That’s not polite,” June says in a soft voice, coming up behind Piper’s chair and wiping the little girl’s mouth with a napkin. She’s the fastest moving pregnant woman I know, six months along with her and Jarred’s second child. June isn’t Piper’s biological mother but adopted her after she married Jarred. They had Hayden a few months before their wedding, Piper’s little brother. Two years old, same eyes as his mother, one hazel and one dark brown. Jarred is on Hayden duty, making sure he doesn’t make a mess with his food as he is wont to do, being deep into the terrible twos.
“I don’t blame you, kid,” I say to Piper from across the table.
She grins devilishly at me. I’m still the fun uncle since I don’t have my own children to attend to.
“Really, Oliver, don’t encourage her,” Dad says from the head of the table.
Dad has changed a lot too in the past three years. Nearing fifty years old, he’s started wearing glasses on the regular. Fatherhood the fourth time around with little Ivy has proven to be a much more exhausting effort for him. Thank goodness he has Rye at his side. Though she’s much younger, she’s tenacious as they come, running her flower shop and taking care of a three-year-old.
I have it on good authority that Dad got his tubes tied soon after Ivy was born so there were no more “accidents”. And thank god he did, because Ivy is a handful. Fast, sneaky, and smart beyond belief. I’ve been watching her steal bites of food off Dad’s plate just because she can.
And I’m no snitch. I’m the fun uncle (or brother, in Ivy’s case), remember?
Rye and Dara are chatting away over their businesses. Dara’s bakery is right next to Rye’s flower shop and the two of them do lots of events together. Despite Dad running a multibillion-dollar company and my brothers and I working at it, the real workaholics are Dara and Rye.
Keifer is keeping the boys happy at the other end of the table, alternately spoon-feeding them pureed squash. He’s probably had the biggest transformation of us all. From being unsure about being a father and committing, to being a twin dad, it’s wild to realize this is my little brother. He and Dara are even talking about him taking a year off from work to be a stay at home dad while she focuses on her business.
“Need help, bro?” I ask Keifer.
He looks at me, and smiles. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”
Taking my family in and really looking at all that has happened over the past three or four years, I can’t help but feel like the odd one out. Because I haven’t changed. Not a bit. And when I’m flying solo to family dinner, I don’t even have the respite of joking with Trevor to help me avoid thinking too hard about myself. Not being a Hawthorn, he has the luxury of bowing out of family dinners whenever he so pleases.
“Where’s Trevor tonight, Oliver?” Jarred asks.
I sigh. I’ve explained it to everyone separately several times. But everyone’s got baby brain, aka short-term memory loss. “He’s on a date.”
