10. Imry
10
IMRY
Thanksgiving and Christmas at our house are enormous affairs. Not only do me, my brothers, my father, and his brothers gather, but this is always a time when extended family drop in. We’re talking cousins, uncles, grandparents, great aunts, etc., etc., etc. It can be pandemonium.
Last year was different since we were in the much smaller house on the Rolling Green Estates in southern Arizona that could fit my father, brothers, uncles, and I with a bit of room left over for Oakley and a couple others but generally speaking, it wasn’t large enough for our entire family.
The house isn’t exactly decorated like it gets for Christmas, but as I walk in the side entrance, there are definitely festive colors and knick-knacks along the stair banisters and door frames. When I step foot into the long, wide, primary hall of the first floor, the chandeliers have been given red, burnt orange, and gold crystals. There are leaves falling from the ceiling. The usual hall runner has been swapped with something that weirdly reminds me of the forest floor covered in freshly fallen leaves.
The hall is silent as I meander down. As I always do, I glance at the art as I walk by. Most of the art I created for this hall was intentional. I took different historical moments in Van Doren history and painted them as I imagined they took place based on written accounts or maybe an old portrait. Whatever I had available.
One of my favorite halls is the gallery where I’ve painted every Van Doren recorded in our family records. Sometimes accurately. Sometimes based on a single physical clue. For our ancient ancestors, some of them came from my imagination based on their children’s, siblings’, parents’, or cousins’ characteristics.
Furnishing this house with art has been a labor of love since I was fourteen. When I was mostly satisfied with the house, I moved on to the other buildings. Other houses. Hell, I think even one of the barns has a painting in it to commemorate one of our old cows that we lost.
I know what the world would think if they knew I painted all these. He isn’t old enough to have accomplished that much in his short life. They’d be right. But once we’d left Mom and I could paint in privacy again, I’d lock myself away for days and finally let my muse free. For the last three years of high school at home, I spent the vast majority of that time in my studio listening to lectures as I painted.
I don’t get quite as obsessed with it now as I used to, but I still lock myself away sometimes and get lost in the paint. For the last several months, I’ve been painting Haze almost exclusively. Yes, very unhealthy.
Considering our friendship is now incredibly awkward. It feels clinical. Maybe that’s not the right word. Maybe casual friendliness with very hard lines. We still text with the weird undertone of making sure the other knows we’re not ghosting one another, but when I texted him a flirty innuendo the other day for the first time in a couple weeks, his only reaction was to laugh react to it.
No comment. Nothing. And when he texted me later, it wasn’t in response. It was as if I hadn’t sent my well-thought out and superbly executed innuendo at all. It was about the fountain in front of the house.
I fucked this up. That’s what happened. If I’d have kept my shit together the first time we fucked, there wouldn’t be this awkwardness hanging between us. Now I have a constant ache in my stomach that I’m not sure what to do with because I hate this feeling. I hate what our friendship—which I still feel weird referring to whatever it was between us as a friendship—has come to.
Or maybe what it’s dissolved into. Which, I’m sorry, can’t really be counted as friendship, can it?
I step into the dining room and look at the amazingly decorated table. It belongs in a magazine. The place settings are spaced evenly so there are no gaps. The decorative china is fall festive. More colored crystals hang from the chandeliers and fall leaves from the ceiling as if suspended by magic.
I missed this last year.
On the large wall is the biggest painting I’ve ever created. It’s a spoof on The Last Supper. In doing research on the painting, I found contradicting depictions. Sometimes, there were eleven apostles, and sometimes twelve. Most of the time, there was Mary Magdalene, but sometimes she was missing.
Bottom line, I had between twelve and fourteen spots to fill. My brothers and I account for six. Then there’s Dad and his brothers, bringing us up to eleven. I left it there, though not all the places at the table were filled.
As I admire it now, I can see Oakley sitting in Loren’s lap, Loren’s somewhat absent smile still looking out at the invisible crowd but his lips brushing Oakley’s neck as Oakley laughs with me and the twin half of my triplet brothers.
On the other side of the table, I can see where Briar goes. He and Uncle Noaz would be sharing a chair, a single ass cheek each on the seat, with their baby Emerson cradled in Noaz’s arms while they both coo over him.
Further down, glaring and plotting our downfall, is Uncle Kairo. Except that next to Uncle Kairo is Myro, and at his side, with his arm around her waist, would be Jessica. She’s obviously scolding Kairo, which is why there’s that look on his face.
I smile, wondering if I left these strange holes in our family dinner for the partners we just hadn’t had yet. Then again, I look at me and my two/thirds triplets and wonder who belongs in the space that’s open at my side.
A faint vision of Haze flutters before I shove it away. I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen. It probably never was.
Turning away, I find an enormous dog sitting just inside the dining room door. My heart leaps into my throat until I recognize that it’s not a dog at all, but a goddamn wolf!
“You need to not be so silent when you’re announcing your human,” I scold him. “Where is he?”
I swear, these fucking canines know exactly what I’m saying. The wolf turns their head and looks into the hall as I approach. They get to their feet and step out of the dining room. Sure enough, there’s my cousin walking down the hall with the rest of his pack of enormous wolf dogs surrounding him.
Loren always says that every killer has their favorite weapon. His is a simple butcher knife. Uncle Noaz is particularly partial to their machete. I love my tactical axe.
Our cousin Rhodes has a pack of enormous wolf dogs trained like special ops. I’ve pictured Rhodes in a lot of different scenarios over my life. From a soft, almost feminine man in the middle of his pack to the very opposite—an enormously jacked, hairy, tatted biker.
Rhodes is actually a lot like his father and mine. He’s wearing a fine suit that looks like it costs as much as most houses do, and he wears it well. He’s my father’s cousin Auden’s only child, which we find both unbelievable and amazing. Auden is a bit of a… Well, a hoe-bag. There’s a different person, gender indifferent, on his arm every single damn time we see him, though he’s never been married.
At least half of his lovers have been of the childbearing sort. Yet the only child he has—or claims to have—is Rhodes. There was some speculation when the woman came forward to claim that her unborn was Auden’s. I’m not sure what happened after the announcement that took the news stations by storm.
A SCANDAL IN THE VAN DOREN HOUSEHOLD!
The woman disappeared, and Rhodes became Auden’s only child. Much loved, very spoiled, well-educated, and a crazy son of a bitch in his own right.
Rhodes smiles as he approaches, but his single wolf dog remains by my side, waiting for his master. “Say hello,” Rhodes instructs, and his entire pack of seven beasts surrounds me, sniffing and nudging their big, wet noses against my hands for a pat.
I roll my eyes and then drop to their level to give them pets and hugs. While they’re always on duty, Rhodes’s command of ‘ say hello ’ is their ‘ at ease ’ indicator. They’re free to be loving pets, which they are. Just like most dogs, they crave love and treats and play.
When I’m full of hair and wolf slobber, I get to my feet and hug my cousin. “Good to see you could make it,” I say.
He sighs. “The boys needed a break from the hunt before they went feral.”
The dogs become alert when another person enters the hall. Their tail wagging stops and their gaze hones in on the heartbeat walking this way. Or, in this case, heartbeats. Uncle Noaz, with baby Emerson, steps up beside us.
“Parenthood looks good on you, cousin,” Rhodes says.
Uncle Noaz smiles. “Thanks. Mob boss to the wolf family looks good on you.”
Rhodes snorts. “That’s the best compliment ever.”
Uncle Noaz smirks. Their eyes wander the hall, and they subtly shake their head with a small, happy smile. “Emerson is far too young to remember this, but I think he’s why Jalon decorated. I’ll be curious about what he does for Christmas this year.”
“It’s been a strangely long dry spell with young offspring in this massive immediate family,” Rhodes says. “I think Loren has been reigning youngest for more than twenty years. We’re all excited to welcome in a new generation of Van Doren.”
Uncle Noaz smiles, their eyes dropping down to their sleeping son. “I think so too. It’s been a long time coming.”
Loren isn’t actually the youngest Van Doren. He’s just the youngest of Granddad’s line—Dad and his brothers. That also includes Rhodes because Uncle Auden’s father, Bowie, died young and Granddad raised Uncle Auden because of that. Which is weird because Uncle Bowie is a twin and they were close, so I’m not sure how our grandfather ended up with Uncle Auden instead of Great Aunt Elilah. I’m sure there’s drama there, but that’s for another day.
“I still get lost in this damn house,” Briar says as he steps out of the dining room to join us. “I swear, I’d get trapped in a damn bathroom and be lost there forever.”
I laugh. Rhodes cackles. The beast dogs stare with their ears straight up and alert.
“Say hello,” Rhodes says, and the dogs literally flip a switch to surround Uncle Noaz, Briar, and Emerson.
Uncle Noaz bends down, letting the pups sniff Emerson. One gently touches their nose to Emerson’s tiny hand. Another nudges the edge of the blanket up and onto Emerson’s exposed foot from where it’s fallen.
“Such good puppies you are,” Uncle Noaz coos. “Let me know when you’re ready to babysit, loves.”
Briar snorts.
“I think everyone’s gathered in the ballroom,” Uncle Noaz says as they get to their feet again. “This is my husband, Briar. Our cousin-to-some-degree, Rhodes.”
Briar places his hand on Uncle Noaz’s back and flashes a smile at Rhodes over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”
Rhodes inclines his head. “Same.”
The wolf dogs fall into formation all around us. I watch as Rhodes looks at them thoughtfully. “You know, if I ever have a family someday, I’m going to need a bigger pack. There are far too many holes in this perimeter.”
I chuckle.
Our group splits apart when we get into the ballroom. There are people everywhere. It’s strange to know I am related to most of them. I always knew I had a big family, but seeing so many of them together in one spot really emphasizes it.
My eyes immediately find my two/thirds brothers as theirs turn to me. That’s our one superpower. We can always find each other. Our eyes meet as if they’re magnets.
Then I see Dad with his new girlfriend, Jeannette. I suppose she’s not exactly a new girlfriend. He’s been seeing her for a while. It’s just weird to see her here. I’ve never considered my father having a type before, but she is as opposite from Mom as one can get. It’s just very… strange.
Then I’m staring at Haze, who’s standing with Uncle Oxley and his boyfriend, Huntley. Haze and Huntley are talking while I stare at the man I think I lost before I even had him.
I scowl internally and turn away, forcing my attention literally anywhere else. I don’t want to be with someone. Especially not someone complicated, but not anyone at all! One deep inhale later, and I’m wandering through the crowd of family members, decidedly not focusing on the fact that Haze is here and things are fucking weird.
Thankfully, only an hour later, we’re heading into the dining room. While most of us don’t live in the big house, my father, brothers, and I almost always try to be the last ones in the dining room since we’re hosting. Myro is usually the one who goes ahead, welcoming our family into the dining room and seeing that everyone has their seat.
It means we end up scattered, which is fine. Since Oakley went ahead, I know Loren will have a seat with him. There are always a couple seats open together for Avory and Ellory. Dad’s seat at the head of the table is always open for him, too.
When I walk in, I scan the table for empty seats. As I’m walking along the table, Rhodes stops me and pulls the chair out to his right. Haze looks up, meeting my eyes as I sit in the seat between them. How serendipitous.
“Where’s the pack?” I ask Rhodes.
“They’re having their own feast, courtesy of Jalon. I’m sure the kitchen is doting on them like they’re golden retrievers and not wolf dog killers,” Rhodes answers, shrugging.
Haze raises a brow but doesn’t comment. I chuckle.
Rhodes turns to the cousin on his other side, and I’m left sitting next to Haze. He’s looking around quietly. I don’t expect him to say anything, so I’m surprised when he does.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a big family,” Haze muses.
I glance at him. He’s got a small, amused smile as he looks around. “I think we could probably form our own state,” I comment.
My stomach flips when he turns a bigger smile on me. “It was just me and my brothers and our father growing up. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles or cousins. I always wished for more family.”
“Well… now you have it.”
Haze looks at me, his eyes locking on mine. For a second, all the noise around us fades and it’s just us. He huffs a little, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Family isn’t always blood,” he murmurs.
I’m not entirely sure what he’s saying, but I nod. True enough words. He looks up again and resumes looking around the table. When he leans in a little closer, I try to breathe through my mouth so I don’t get all heady with this delicious scent.
Not that he smells good. He just smells like a regular guy.
“Okay, so what’s up Kairo’s ass? Why’s he such a tool?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Trust me, if we knew why, we could address it.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Rhodes says, apparently tuning into our conversation. “There’s nothing up his ass and it’s leaving him in a rotten mood. I know when I’ve gone too long without a good dicking, I get cranky, too.”
Haze laughs.
Okay, so dinner isn’t going to be so bad next to Haze after all.