Chapter 33
ASHER REYNOLDS
Merry Christmas! Lyla was insistent that I messaged you as early as possible in case you hadn’t heard the good news yet. Though, I can’t imagine that you didn’t hear it from all the way in Michigan considering the volume on this thing.
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Ismile down at my phone, a picture of Lyla with a huge grin on her face, hugging a karaoke machine that was one of her Christmas gifts.
Once some of our messages became a little… riskier in nature, I updated his name in my contacts to make sure that none of my teammates saw anything that they shouldn’t. His middle name is Alexander, so we went with what was simplest.
It’s also why I’m listed in his phone as Michael.
Not being able to walk over to his house every night is really taking its toll on me, but at least I have our messages.
I’m bummed that I can’t be there with them, since I went with him after practice one night, and we painstakingly selected that karaoke machine together. Actually, I’m bummed that I can’t be there with them for too many reasons to list out.
Being home is… weird. And hard. I woke up before everyone else, and I’m sitting in the living room, staring at a Christmas tree that feels like it was put up haphazardly instead of decorated with love.
There are only lights on the front instead of wrapped all the way around, and we didn’t use any of the hand-made ornaments that five children spent a childhood and a lot of glue and glitter to make a reality.
Christmas in our house was never an expensive affair growing up with so many kids, but it was always filled with love.
It doesn’t feel like there’s much love this year, either.
And I’ve told Chase all of this. In our late night phone calls over the last week, after Lyla is asleep and the house here is quiet. There’s something about the darkness in our little rural house in Michigan that makes hard truths easier to tell him out loud.
The farmhouse we live in has four bedrooms, but with five kids and two adults, it’s always felt cramped. Growing up, I had my own bedroom until Olivia was born, but then Kyle moved in with me. The twins always shared a room, which they still do when Cade is home from college.
Besides holidays, I haven’t been at home since I was eighteen, so the rooms have been shifting as we’ve all gotten older.
Most recently, my parents had a room, Jason had his own as long as Cade was away at school, Kyle had his own room, since he goes to college locally, and Olivia also had her own room.
No one questioned when I said that I’d be sleeping downstairs, even though there is technically a free bedroom now.
Cade didn’t use it either. He’s bunking with Jason, and I’m sleeping on a pull-out in the sunroom that’s always been used during situations where one of us boys was close to killing the other and needed some time to blow off steam.
Honestly, I haven’t even been upstairs. I use the bathroom down here, and I mostly stick to a path of shuffling between the sunroom, the living room, and the kitchen.
For a house with six people in it–all grown adults–it’s impressive how well we’re navigating around one another.
Sometimes, our grief bumps against someone else’s, as we catch each other staring at the sad Christmas tree or looking around forlornly at the emptiness that Olivia’s left, now that she’s gone.
We don’t talk about it, though. It seems like everyone’s decided that pushing through is the best thing to do, and I’m not going to be the one who comes home and tells everyone that they need to cut open wounds that have barely started to scab over.
But in the light of day and knowing that Chase has an excited daughter to focus on, I don’t want to get into all of that right now.
I shoot a response back.
Michael 7:47 A.M.
Are you already regretting getting that for her?
Alex 7:47 A.M.
We’re negotiating “singing hours” right now. We’ll see how long it sticks.
I see a … come through, and I wait for his next message.
Alex 7:48 A.M.
How are you doing?
Chase has become the person who I turn toward when things are hard. I hope that I’m the same for him. It also means that I’m typing a response without even realizing it.
Michael 7:48 A.M.
Waiting for everyone to get up. Olivia and I were always the first people awake, and we’d drink hot chocolate (before the days of coffee) and shake the presents to try and guess what was in them.
Alex 7:48 A.M.
We miss you here. Lyla loves the jersey that you got her, too. Should have led with that.
Alex 7:48 A.M.
Text me later?
I tell him that I will. I can hear movement upstairs, so it’s only a matter of time before everyone shuffles awkwardly downstairs. Then, we’ll act out some poorly executed cosplay of a happy family on Christmas morning.
Instead of waiting for that to happen, I stand up and pad back to the sunroom.
I want to watch the rays of light as they fight past the horizon, over the lake where I learned to skate.
The same place where I taught Olivia to skate.
I want to lean into the happy memories of her instead of focusing on the emptiness left now that she’s gone.
I know that if she knew how terribly we’re all acting, she’d be livid. And then, she’d force everyone to join in an impromptu dance party to some TikTok song that I’ve never heard before.
Maybe I won’t be leading the charge on starting a choreographed dance number, but I smile when I think about how much she’d love it if I did.
The great news is that men are just as easy to shop for as boys. They still want video games and anything that goes fast. Plus, now that dinner is over, it means that my brothers are glued to the downstairs television playing something involving WWII on the new console.
Cade tried to argue that it wasn’t much of a present for him since he’s only home for summer break and holidays, but he was quickly shot down. It was, by a wide mile, the most normal part of the day.
I’ve been getting updates from Chase throughout his day, and I can’t help but think about next year. That–maybe–we’ll be spending the holidays together instead of apart.
Being home has only made me more certain that I don’t like being away from him. Or from Lyla. I want sticky, syrupy-handed mornings with pancakes in fun shapes and naps in a puddle of bodies on the sofa while we all fall asleep together watching hockey.
I don’t know if I would have realized what I really wanted if I hadn’t lost Olivia. If I’d have ever realized what was truly important in this life.
I zone back in on my brothers, who are sitting across the sofa, much like me, Kellan, and Coop used to do. I’m to the side in a recliner, and I can only see about half the screen.
“What the fuck, dude. We’re on the same team,” Cade says to Jason after what I presume is some friendly fire.
“We’re on the same team,” Jason mocks in a high-pitched voice.
He’s technically the second oldest, earning that three minutes ahead of Cade.
But these days, he’s the brother that I have the least in common with.
I think it’s awesome that he’s in his electrician apprenticeship, but since he’s been spending all his days with a bunch of dudes for the last few years, it’s clear that he’s growing into a little bit of an asshole. It was like this over the summer, too.
Hockey is rife with misogyny–or it can be, anyway–but it’s nothing like the things that I’ve heard casually come out of his mouth over the last week.
Mostly, I’ve been too in my own world to pay attention, which makes me wonder if I’ve even heard the worst of it.
Cade elbows Jason, and they get back to playing. That is, until, a minute later, Jason says, “Don’t be such a fag, Kyle. Get in that bunker and do recon.”
I sit up a little straighter in my chair. I’ve never heard my brother be so outwardly homophobic before, and I can’t pretend like it’s not hitting me entirely different now, either.
Because the reality is that I’m gay. But he shouldn’t have to know that to not make some shitty, homophobic comment.
I lean forward. “What’d you just say?”
“When did you get such a stick up your ass? I’m just joking,” Jason says without looking away from the screen.
I feel like I have thousands of tiny ants crawling across my body.
I’m not even registering that I’m standing up, heat coursing through me.
My blood is pumping hard, when I say, “Then I’m sure it would be funny for me to joke about you being a shit player because of how stupid you are, right?
I mean, that must be why you couldn’t go to college like the rest of us. ”
Jason throws his controller down and stands up, too.
Unfortunately for him, I have a solid four inches of height on him and about forty pounds of muscle. But he’s always been scrappy, I’ll give him that.
“What the fuck did you say?” We’re standing chest-to-chest, and he’s looking up at me with fire in his eyes.
Cade and Kyle are looking at one another, not sure what the hell is going on. And to be fair, I’m not sure, either.
I point a finger into his chest. “Relax man, it was just a joke.”
As the oldest, I’ve always been the de-facto sibling who had to be the most mature. And usually, I uphold that expectation.
Not today. Not right now. Now with a home full of emptiness and a younger brother who’s gotten too comfortable acting like an asshole. And definitely not when I can see Chase so clearly in my mind, and the way that I feel about him and how right we are together.
I’m not going to let anyone–especially someone who I’m supposed to call family–so casually dismiss his (and my) existence like we’re a punchline.
Loving Chase–yeah, I love him. I know that in my heart–is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. But nothing good can always be easy, and this is one of those times. I think about Lyla, now, and what type of person I want to model for her to be.
I’m going about this all wrong.