Chapter Twenty Milo
Twenty
Milo
Every morning for the last five days, I’ve painted with Mrs. Welch.
Every evening for the last five days, I’ve been in Prue’s bed.
And every minute in between, I’ve been wishing Tom hadn’t confided in me like he did.
Because now every otherwise happy morning spent with my favorite teacher, or every glorious second with her daughter, feels like sand passing through an hourglass.
I’ve spent the better part of my life either wishing for things to end or deciding when they will. And I hate that this, this one juncture I could imagine myself settling into, is going to end whether I want it to or not.
And worse than that, I’ve made myself scarce again.
I sleep here, when I can. I eat here, when invited.
I’m avoiding my siblings, whenever possible.
And I have the nerve to feel like a hero while doing it.
Helping the Welches, all of them, makes me feel good.
And, I could give into that feeling, if I let myself.
I could convince myself, with time, that this is a do-over.
A clean slate with a nice family who each need me, all in ways I can actually accommodate. That there’s a purpose for me here.
I could do all of that, if my own family wasn’t just up the road.
If my brother would quit looking at me like he’s some wounded animal I refuse to tend to.
If Nadia would start looking at me at all.
I cannot keep pretending that I could make a life here, without first addressing the life I left behind.
I wake up in Prue’s bed next to a note that matches the handwriting tattooed on my hip. It reads Mom needed me. Text me when you’re up xo, so, I do.
Milo: good morning gorgeous
Milo: I need to skip painting today, I’m afraid
Milo: Family shit to handle
Milo: But I’ll see you later
With that, I gather my clothes and get dressed.
I notice Prue left my ring, the one I’d slipped onto her thumb last night, on the table next to my side of the bed.
I decide to leave it. It’s hers now, as far as I’m concerned.
I cannot give her much, but I can give her that.
Something to remember me by when one of us, whoever that may be, decides to leave or end things.
Because, lately, I’m less and less sure that it’ll be me walking away.
Tom asked me to help convince his daughter that there’s a great big world out there, and I fear, which shouldn’t be a shock to anyone, that I’ve outdone myself.
I can see it behind Prue’s eyes when I tell her stories.
In the little creases at their corners, while her smile grows and grows and takes over her face after I name a place I’d love to show her someday.
I think she’s imagining herself out of this town for what may be the first time just as I consider the opposite.
And it feels unkind of me to offer her a menu that Tom may snatch out of her hands when he finally admits the truth.
Not that he sees it that way. But I’ve spent enough time with his daughter now to see, clear as day, that she’d be back here on the next flight or bus or train the moment she got the news. She’s loyal. She’s good. She’s decent.
Unlike me.
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking up Sef and Nik’s long drive, to find Sef sitting on the front porch, rocking Harper as she nurses. The trees around their house are just starting to turn for the season, the tips of each leaf dusted with golden yellows and browns, threatening to fall.
I smile to myself, imagining making leaf piles with the kids.
Watching them jump in the piles over and over as I stand by with a rake, ready to remake them to cushion their falls.
I wonder if they’d like building snowmen too, with their favorite least-favorite uncle.
Or, puddle jumping in the spring. I cannot imagine what Sef and Nik will do with all of them during the long summer without school.
I bet they’d like jumping off of Prue’s dock.
I wonder if they already know how to swim. I could help with that.
I could.
“Long time no see,” Sef says softly as I make my way up their front steps. “I was starting to wonder if you’d taken off for good again.”
I let that jab hit, because I deserve it. “I know,” I say, sighing as I fall into the rocking chair next to hers. I reach out and squeeze the bottom of Harper’s foot that’s sticking out past the blanket she’s wrapped in. “I’ve—”
“Been avoiding us,” she asserts. Her sweet, gentle smile is still there, as it always is.
Sef has the unique ability to go beyond what Aleks can when delivering a hard truth.
Sef can make you realize you’re being an asshole while simultaneously making you feel safe, seen, and loved. I’m glad Nik’s kids will have that.
“Sef, I—”
“Not judging,” she says, still rocking, still smiling. “I get it.”
“It’s been a weird fucking week,” I say, then look at baby Harper, panicked. “Shit, sorry! Fu—”
“Firstly, she’s an infant, so you can swear around her.
Secondly, need I remind you that Levi’s first word combination was mother and fucker, thanks to your brother, so I think we’re just fine here.
” Sef lifts the baby blanket, wipes milk from Harper’s mouth with its corner, tucks her back in, and then looks toward me with a knowing gaze.
“Nik told me what happened at the brewery last week.”
I push off the floor with both feet, rocking my chair backward. “Yeah?” I don’t know what else to say.
“He worries about you, Milo. He worries about both of you.”
I look up to that big, orange-turning tree as a gust of wind passes through it. “I know.” I lick my lips before letting out a long, long breath. “But he’s got enough to worry about,” I say, my eyes held on Harper’s foot. “He needs to let it go.”
“I think he’s trying to,” she says solemnly. “We’ve been fighting about it, actually.”
“ Please, ” I dismiss. “You two don’t fight.”
“Oh, we do. Have you met your brother? He is the most stubborn-headed man imaginable, and I have quite the temper on me.” She smirks, her eyes turning to crescent moons.
I let out a soft, distracted laugh.
“Milo, I’ve been your sister for fifteen years now and I like to think that you and I have always understood each other.”
I nod fervently. “Of course, Sef. I’m sorry if—”
“No, I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I just want to say all of that before this next part.
I love you and I understand you, to some degree…
.” Her lips briefly twitch into a frown, before they smile once more.
“But Nik needs closure, Mi. He’s tried to do it on his own.
He’s done a fuck ton of therapy, he’s journaled, hell, he’s even tried some weird herbal shit that my loon of a mother recommended to him. ”
She pauses to shush Harper, who’d begun to fuss, and helps her latch once more.
“But he needs you now. He needs to talk to the only other people who have lived through what he did. Because he’s got everything he wanted and he’s still so full of regret and shame and pain and—” Sef sniffs as one tear falls down her face, then another. “Sorry. Fucking hormones.”
“Yeah, me too,” I joke, wiping a tear of my own with the side of my thumb.
Sef laughs, then swallows thickly as tears continue to slowly stream down her face. “It was me who called in the one-one-nine, Milo. I used mine.”
“What?”
“Nik gave me one too, as a wedding gift. And I used mine, to force him to use his.”
“But you…” I blink rapidly, looking between her and the driveway. “Why?”
“I needed you and Nads. I needed you here. I need you to love on your brother. I need you all to finally talk. Because I need my husband and the kids need their father present with us, not stuck in the past.”
My tongue runs along my front teeth, holding behind my lips as more tears break free. “Fuck, Sef, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize to me.” She hits me with a withering, motherly stare. “I’m just glad you came.” She reaches out briefly, placing her hand on the sleeve of my sweater and squeezing just once. “I missed you, kid. And I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I missed you too.” I did. I missed her.
I missed Nik. I missed Nadia. I missed it so much I tried not to name it, not to think of it for so long.
Because I knew, deep down, what I’d have to face to really have them back in my life.
I knew I’d not be strong enough to say goodbye twice.
“I missed you all so much,” I say, holding back more tears as my eyes begin to burn. “Jesus, I’ve been—”
“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head softly as she continues to rock in her chair. “No more regrets. No more sorries. You’re here now.”
“I can’t promise I’ll be much help.” I breathe out, falling back into my chair. “But I can try.”
“Well, why don’t you start the way most emotionally unavailable men would,” Sef says, leaning back into her chair as well.
We both stare at the driveway, the wind blowing the early fallen leaves across the grass.
“Ask him to grab a beer with you.” She turns to look at me, just as I turn to her, taking in her mischievous smile.
“And, thankfully, I know just the place.”
After I showered, changed, and grabbed a quick breakfast, I left the house and headed to the brewery.
I got to work in the front of the store, stocking the fridges with cans as Nik and Aleks worked together to install their keg system.
Eventually, they got it working, so I emptied the last crate and worked up the courage to ask Nik to grab a drink with me when they finished up. He eagerly agreed.
“So, do we have to pay? Or…?” I ask as Nik grabs us two cans of beer from the storefront’s fridge.
He places a can onto the counter in front of me before falling onto the stool next to mine with a grunt. The sleeves of his flannel shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the large tattoo he has across his right forearm. Sefina, in a bold script font.