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I do what I’m told and make a funny face at Dash. In return, he gives me a drool-soaked grin. On the other side of the ten foot long ‘Happy Birthday’ banner, Micah stands on a stepladder and waits for instructions.
“It’s too high on your end,” I tell him. “Fix it.”
I don’t even know if this is true. I just enjoy fucking with him.
Micah throws me the kind of look that suggests he’s thinking about ripping the banner off the wall and strangling me with it.
Tess stands back and considers the scene. “It is a little bit too high, Micah. Lower it just an inch.”
The wrath vanishes from his face. He gazes down at his wife and turns into cheerful mush. “Okay, honey.”
I keep my snort of laughter to myself. When we were in high school Micah used to call Tess ‘the tiny dictator’. Now he’d eagerly crawl at her feet on command.
And why shouldn’t he? Tess is awesome. They both are.
It’s just a trip to think about how time is such an agent of change. Two people who epically despised each other became a storybook happy ending.
Not like I’m one to talk. Within the last five weeks I’ve been knocked flat on my ass by a girl who thought I was the devil in blue jeans for the past decade. Now here I am stressing over hanging a paper birthday banner in my living room in the hopes it might make her smile.
Micah finishes adjusting the sign and jumps off the short ladder. Immediately he almost trips over a mammoth flower arrangement. His scowl returns. “Looks like the fucking botanical gardens exploded in here.”
“Language,” singsongs Tess and acts like she’s trying to cover Dash’s ears.
“It’s festive.” I pick up the offending flower pot but there’s nowhere to put it because the counters and end tables are already covered with flowers. I bought out the entire purple section of the flower shop. Haven likes purple.
“It’s overkill,” Micah grumbles and reaches into the fridge for a beer, wedging it in the crook of his arm and flipping the tab. He’s become damn good at getting shit done with one hand. Beer fizzes over the top and he gulps the whole thing in about five seconds before absently crushing the can in his palm.
“Someone needs to take the prince.” Tess holds Dash out. “Nature calls.”
Micah starts reaching for his son but before he gets there I cut him off and make the steal. Today Dash wears an outfit that says, ‘I Get This Attitude From My Dad’. I bought that for him. Tess laughed like crazy when I gave it to her.
Dash blows spit bubbles and punches the air.
“Let’s start learning how to play football,” I say to him.
Tess laughs. Micah stares at her ass the whole time she’s walking down the hall. What a jerk.
I carry Dash to the sofa so he doesn’t have to see his dad drooling over his mom. Plus, the sofa is one of the few places that isn’t currently crowded with flowers and boxes.
The whole house is in a state of flux right now. In addition to the birthday mania there’s a collection of half packed boxes. Next week I’ll be losing all three of my housemates. The whole situation was kind of sudden but when the house across the street went on the market Tess jumped at the chance to buy it.
I’m happy for them. After all, I couldn’t expect the whole family to stay here and keep me company for eternity. They deserve their own home. And their front door will only be thirty steps away from mine. I know that because I made a joke out of counting it off and warning they won’t be able to keep me out.
Micah assured me they know better than to try.
With Dash propped up on my knee, I reach for an orange foam football lying on the coffee table. I’ve bought him at least half a dozen of these. That way one will always be around.
His eyes get bright when I stick the ball in front of his face. “First thing you’ve got to remember,” I tell him, “is to hold onto the ball. That’s the number one job.”
Dash slaps at the ball. Micah grumpily kicks a box aside with his foot so he can fall into an armchair. But there’s a smile on his face when he focuses on the baby.
“Maybe he’ll be more of a team player than I was.”
I look at my cousin, covered in ink and still wild at heart even if he’s been domesticated. “You weren’t lacking in athletic talent. You just had an allergy to rules.”
His grin widens. “Still do.”
Dash makes a noise that sounds like ‘Aaaaaagh’. He decides the most appropriate thing to do with the ball is eat it and tries to take a bite.
