7. Kellen
Seven
Kellen
I wasn’t going to have the family over on a weeknight.
I really wasn’t. There’s the new documentary coming out tonight, that I’ll have to save for tomorrow, which means I’ll have to adjust all my social media notifications since I’ll miss the chat and get spoilers if I log in tomorrow.
But when my nephew Liam called to say his pregnant girlfriend was craving my special marinade, who was I to say no to that.
I leave the office a bit early to get the meat going and set about preparing for the rush of relatives.
With Liam and Zack both partnered off, that means I’m cooking for eight.
I smile, pulling two folding chairs up from the basement.
Soon I’ll have to stash a high chair here for the baby.
I love the idea of a tiny baby Brady at my table.
I hope Liam and Maddie will let me babysit for them sometimes.
I’m lost in daydreams about having another baby around when my phone rings. Liam. “What’s up, son?”
I can barely hear him above the rain. I hadn’t noticed the sky, but we are in the middle of one of those late summer storms that comes on quick and fierce. He shouts, “Can you meet us outside with an umbrella? I don’t want Maddie to catch a chill.”
I hear her in the background in the car, scolding Liam. “Catch a chill? What are you, 80 years old? You do realize the baby is submerged in water, right?”
I chuckle. “I’ll meet you out front with my golf umbrella. How far are you?”
I turn the burner off under the sauce for the veggies and look outside to see Liam pulling up.
I head out through the garage door, grabbing my largest umbrella.
As Liam pulls to a stop, I meet them at the passenger door with a smile.
Madison rolls her eyes, but then struggles to hoist herself out of the low vehicle, so I lean in to offer a strong tug so she can get to her feet more easily.
She blows her hair up out of her face. “Thanks, Kellen.”
“Any time, sweetheart. Here, you take this.” I pull up the hood on my rain coat. Liam walks around to the back, grabbing a bag of chips. I’m about to see if I can help him, when I spy something going on across the street.
“You don’t understand!” Jake wails, pacing back and forth in the rain in the driveway while his mother stands in the garage, shivering. She looks concerned. “It has to be a back yard barbecue,” he shrieks. I see him stomping back and forth, muttering in the rain.
“Won’t you please come inside and talk about this, Jake?” Elizabeth looks so distraught. Jake is really stomping his feet now, tugging on his hair.
I jog across the street. “Anything I can do for you two?” Jake whips his head to stare at me, his eyes wild.
Elizabeth sighs. I duck under the garage door to stand by her, dripping on the concrete floor. “Thank you, Kellen, but we’re fine,” she says, tightly.
“Nothing is fine!” Jake hollers, then starts smacking his forehead.
“He’s just upset,” Elizabeth says.
“Son,” I say, stepping back out in the rain and touching his shoulder. The movement startles him and he looks at me again. “Can you tell me what’s got you so upset?”
“I am not your son.”
“That’s true,” I tell him. “I just call young men that. I can’t help myself. I don’t have any sons.”
“Oh.” Jake looks at me, blinking the rain out of his face. “I need to have a backyard barbecue. It needs to be today. And Mom says we can’t because it’s raining, but it needs to be today.”
I nod. Elizabeth shouts over the storm, explaining that his autism therapist suggested a backyard barbecue as an example of a social activity they might try to help feel more comfortable in their new neighborhood.
“His next session is tomorrow and he was supposed to complete an exercise for homework,” she says.
To Jake, she yells, “The barbecue was an example, sweetie.”
He shakes his head, looking upset again.
“Hey, what about this,” I tell them. I keep a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’ve got a covered deck out back. I’m about to toss some chicken on the grill anyway. What if you and your mother come eat with us, on the deck? Would that do?”
“Is the grill a barbecue? In Canada, it’s common for people to refer to gas grills as ‘barbecues,’” he says, looking hopeful.
I nod. “I can set out barbecue sauce, too, if that helps?” Jake nods and, without further ado, walks across the street toward my house and in through my garage door. I can’t help the chuckle that sneaks out, until I look at Beth, who has tears in her eyes.
“Hey,” I say. “Please don’t cry on my account.”
She shakes her head and wipes her eyes with the heel of one hand. “Thank you, Kellen.” She sighs. “I wasn’t sure how we were getting through this one. Thank you for finding a solution for us.”
“Any time,” I tell her, resisting the urge to reach for her shoulder like I had for Jake. “I mean that. Say, I’m going to run back over and get changed. Please let yourself in?”
She nods and I dash back across the street just as Orla, Zack and Nicole are sprinting inside from their cars.
With a quick word to my daughter to welcome the neighbors, I dash back to my room and toss my soaked things into the bath tub.
I absolutely do not reach for my nicest jeans because Elizabeth Burns is coming over to my house.
They just happen to be on top of the pile in my drawer.
I drag a comb through my damp hair and pull on an undershirt.
If it was just the family, I’d head back out just like this and throw on an apron.
But, I reason, the messy work of the meal has already been done.
I can wear a nice polo at least. No reason not to pull myself together for my new almost-neices.
I walk back down the hall and see Beth arguing with Jake about putting on a dry shirt. She sees me and pinches her lips together. “Kellen, I didn’t realize this was a special night with your family,” she says. “We can’t intrude like this.”
Cal pokes his head through the garage just then. “Who? Us? Special? Neighbor gal, I hate to tell you but we’re real gross and obnoxious.”
Beth smiles at his candor. “It’s not an intrusion at all,” I assure her. To the room at large, I say, “Elizabeth and Jake are going to eat out on the deck. Special project.”
“Oh that sounds nice,” Nicole says, standing and walking toward the door.
“It looks like it’s clearing up anyway.” Orla slides open the screen door and starts taking plates and condiments outside while the guys start shifting chairs.
I’ve only got four cushioned chairs at my patio table, but nobody seems to mind sitting in staggered height, mismatched seats.
Elizabeth seems a bit shell shocked by all the commotion. I should have warned her that everyone was coming. The Bradys can be sort of a lot when we’re all clumped together. But I hated to see Jake upset like that unnecessarily. After all, his therapist gave him homework.
Jake approaches Maddie as he reluctantly pulls on the dry shirt from his mother. He stares at her for a bit, and seems deeply uncomfortable. She smiles and offers him a hand to shake. “Hi,” she says, her eyes bright. “I’m Maddie. What’s up?”
Jake blinks a few times and bites his lip like he’s trying not to say something, then blurts, “Have you been mating with one of the Bradys?” The room goes silent, and I know I shouldn’t laugh. I know it. But lord, what a question.
“Jacob Todd Gaston! We have discussed this.” Elizabeth is red from the tips of her ears to the knuckles of her hand that she tries to cram into her mouth.
Nicole and Maddie burst out laughing. Jake looks confused and Maddie and Nicole pull themselves together and cough.
Elizabeth corrects Jake, saying, “It’s more common to say ‘are you expecting a baby,’ but it’s also not polite to ask a woman if she’s expecting a baby because we never know what her circumstances are. ”
Jake seems to contemplate this answer, and looks embarrassed about a social misstep, until Nicole claps him on the back. “I like the blunt approach, kid. Maddie and Liam have been mating like beasts. Their baby boy is coming in just a few months.”
I clear my throat. “Jake, would you like to help me gr— would you like to help me barbecue the chicken?” He nods eagerly, and I slip outside with the pan of meat, my new neighbor in tow.
“I want to apologize for laughing in there just now,” I tell him.
Jake studies me. “Mom says people laugh when they’re shocked or uncomfortable sometimes. Like when I’ve done something in gross opposition to social norms.”
I nod. “That’s true. I really wasn’t expecting that question, but that might be because all of us already knew Maddie was expecting a baby.” I try to use his mother’s language, hoping it will set him at ease.
I hand him the tongs and gesture for him to set the meat on the grill, which he does well enough. “Expecting a baby feels like it must be a euphemism,” he says. “Expecting it to do what?”
I think about this. “Well, expecting it to arrive. Anticipating.”
“Anticipating,” he says, nodding. “I like that. Mr. Brady?” He looks at me and hands me back the tongues.
“Please call me Kellen, Jake.”
“Kellen. Ok. Kellen?”
“What’s up?”
“Your house is my favorite thing about this neighborhood so far.”
My heart stutters in my chest at his words. “Wow, Jake. Thank you so much. I’m glad to have you for a neighbor.”
He smiles briefly, then looks back at the chicken. “I feel like I can ask all the questions I need.”
I nod. “You can definitely ask all the questions you need.” I feel overwhelmed by his candor, and so moved that I created a space where he feels safe.
I think about how little I did—talk tires with him in the driveway, troubleshoot his problem.
It makes me wonder what Elizabeth and Jake’s lives were like before they moved here, if such a small thing makes this boy’s day.
“Let’s go ahead and take some of these off the flame,” I tell him, holding up the tray. “You can help me serve the outdoor barbecue meal.”