Chapter 2 #2
"Even PopPop. Remember when his old dog Scout died?"
Benjy nods solemnly. "He cried into his handkerchief."
"Was PopPop weak?"
"No." He sounds almost offended at the suggestion. "PopPop's the strongest."
"There you go." I turn onto the familiar street leading to my parents' house. "Strong people feel things. They just handle those feelings in ways that don't hurt others."
By the time we pull into my parents' driveway, Benjy has already moved on, the resilience of childhood in full effect.
"We're doing explosions in science class! Mrs. Lin says we need baking soda and vinegar and food coloring. It's gonna be a volcano!" His hands gesture wildly, mimicking an eruption. "Can we practice at home? Please?"
"We'll see. Maybe this weekend."
The front door opens before we reach it. The smell of garlic and butter wraps around us like a familiar blanket. Friday night routine rests over my shoulders and immediately calms me.
Mom pulls Benjy into a hug the moment we step inside. Silver strands that have fallen out of her bun brush against his forehead as she plants a kiss on his temple.
"There's my boy."
Dad appears from the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder. He claps Benjy on the shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "How was school, bud? Keep the playground safe today?"
I freeze. The question hits too close to reality. Dad catches my expression, his eyebrows lifting slightly, and I shake my head no, hoping to avoid it.
Benjy's chest puffs out. "Jason was being mean to Ava. She lost her bracelet and was crying, and he called her a baby. So I told him to stop."
"And?" Dad prompts.
"And I pushed him." Benjy's hands fly up dramatically. "He went flying backward and landed on his butt. Everyone saw."
"He stumbled back a step," I clarify. "Let's not embellish."
Dad nods, his expression growing serious. "Your mom's right. Standing up for others is important, but how we do it matters most."
"That's what Mom said."
"Smart woman, your mother." Dad winks at me over Benjy's head. "Now, importantly, are we going to finish our project in the garage before dinner?"
"Yeah," Benjy yells as he runs past us and into the house toward the attached garage.
I'm glad to be here. It's a refuge for both of us. I follow Mom in to see if I can help with dinner.
Benjy’s laughter drifts in from the garage. The sound of Dad’s drill follows. By the time Mom calls us in, the sun has dropped behind the trees, and my mouth is watering.
"Three new families moved onto Oak Street," Mom says, passing the bread basket. "One from Texas, one from Atlanta, and I haven't met the third yet."
"The Texas family bought the old Millers' place," Dad adds. "Fixed up that eyesore of a porch already."
After dinner, Mom takes Benjy's hand. "Let's get those teeth brushed. I bought a new book about dinosaurs for us to read when you stay here with us."
"The ones with feathers?" Benjy's voice fades as they head down the hallway.
Dad and I fall into our familiar rhythm at the sink while they get ready for bed. Benjy has been spending Friday nights with them for pretty much his entire life. I know he looks forward to this more than sleeping in his own bed three doors down.
"I saw that Robert Stone's memorial is this weekend," he says, keeping his tone casual while he rinses a plate and then hands it to me. "I'm sure they've shut down half of New Orleans for him."
My hands remain steady on the plate as I dry it off. "I saw something about that online. He makes the news even in his death."
"Heard from Reeves?"
"Not a word. I'm sure he's in town for it, though."
Dad passes me another plate, water dripping from its edges. "You going to go?"
"Hell no. That wouldn't be appropriate."
Whether or not they wanted me there, Robert Stone was part of my life once. In another world, Benjy might have known him as a grandfather.
The kitchen grows quiet except for the clink of dishes. Dad studies me, his eyes gentle but direct. "You ever plan to tell Benjy about his father?"
I fold the dish towel carefully, aligning the corners before meeting his gaze.
"Dad, we've talked about this. You know the answer.
Reeves was clear about the life he wanted.
And the life he doesn't want. I'll tell Benjy about his father when he's old enough, but not now.
There's no need to bring that into our life. "
From down the hall, Mom's voice calls, "Ben, Benjy wants you to see his dinosaur drawing before bed. Can you come in here?"
Dad squeezes my shoulder once before leaving. The kitchen is suddenly large around me. I rest my palms on the cool edge of the counter and let the silence settle.
Reeves will be in New Orleans this weekend. The thought moves through me. A chill skims down my arms despite the warm kitchen, and my jaw tightens the way it used to when he would walk into a room after being gone too long.
His father is gone. However complicated their relationship was, that kind of loss leaves a mark. I picture him standing in that huge house, his shoulders squared, pretending he doesn’t feel anything.
He was always better at carrying weight than admitting it.
I swallow past the lump rising. He isn’t my concern anymore. He made that clear. Still, I can’t help hoping he’s okay.
I straighten and reach for the light switch.
Whatever happens in New Orleans this weekend doesn’t have anything to do with us.