Jordan
The problem with kids is that they get older and have the audacity to get their own lives. I know, I know. It’s natural. Still. Will somebody think of the parents?
When I drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning, the house is quiet.
I sneak a peek into Theo’s room, even though I know it’s empty.
The bed is made, and all Theo’s stuff is in order, like it always is.
My kid has inherited a streak of orderliness that is probably considered unnatural in many parts of the world.
I close the door to the temple of cleanliness and head downstairs.
There’s a plate with a lone piece of French toast on the table, and when I open the door to the fridge it only contains things you have to cook to eat.
Instead, I make myself a cup of coffee and take a seat at the table.
I’m scrolling through my phone when my father makes his way into the kitchen from his basement workshop, where he repairs any- and everything the neighbors drop off for him to take a look at.
“Morning,” he says, heading straight to the coffee machine.
“Hey,” I say. I watch as he makes himself a large cup, grabs a cookie jar from the shelf, opens it, and pulls out a couple of pieces of beef jerky.
I raise my brows at him when he turns to face me.
“Not a word,” he grumbles.
“You’re not supposed to eat those,” I say, ignoring the grumbling.
“What am I supposed to do with them, then? Polish shoes?”
“Leave them to the people who don’t have a standing date with their cardiologist every two months? Where did those even come from? I swear I cleaned out the kitchen when you admitted to having shortness of breath. Again.”
“Never you mind where they came from,” he says, which is code for “I bribed Paul from the corner deli to sell me some, even though I’m under strict instructions from the doctor not to have anything high in sodium, and Paul has been repeatedly informed of that fact.”
“Dad,” I say firmly.
“Jordan,” he parrots.
“I swear, it’s like having a second kid.”
“I don’t remember you being this much of a helicopter parent with Theo.”
“When I told Theo he shouldn’t use his skateboard on the stairs, he listened. When your doctor told you bacon was off limits you said you needed a second opinion.”
“Let’s not demonize fact checking.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
My phone buzzes.
“You should really pick that up. Might be important,” Dad says.
My eyes move between him and the phone.
I grab the phone. Dad takes a step toward the door.
“We’re not done,” I say.
“Of course not,” he says placatingly, and walks out.
I slide my thumb over the screen and smile when I see Milán’s name on it. I open the message. It’s a photo of a kid of about ten with his arm around a shaggy black dog. The dog’s tongue is lolling out of its mouth, and the kid is smiling widely.
I’m presenting you my credentials. Just in case you’ve found a better dog expert.
I grin and study the younger version of Milán’s face.
You were a cute kid.
Cool. Cool is the word you’re looking for.
You had braces?
Not because I needed them. I wore them to make them cool. For those less fortunate in the cool department.
That was nice of you.
What can I say? I’ve always been a man of the people.
I study my phone, trying to figure out what to say next because I like talking to him. It’s been a while since I made a friend.
My phone vibrates again.
What are you up to today?
It’s ridiculous how I suddenly feel excited about that question when it could very well just be small talk.
I look around the empty kitchen and try to figure out if I have something planned. There used to be a time when I would have. I try not to think about that too much.
No plans.
Want to hang out?
The urge to say yes and the joy at the thought of seeing him again are a tingling rush of energy that moves through me in a wave. There’s a fizzing sensation in my chest. A surge of anticipation that feels physical.
What do you have in mind?
Brunch?
We agree to meet at a restaurant in Cobble Hill.
I have just enough time to take a shower, get dressed, and check on Theo.
He went to Wren and Sutton’s last night and stayed over after watching a movie.
I lecture him about homework, and he humors me by pretending he’s paying attention.
We both know he’s the more responsible one out of the two of us.
“Going out,” I yell when I’m at the door.
There’s no reply, so I march downstairs and stick my head into Dad’s workshop. He’s listening to a record on the turntable Mom and I got him when he turned fifty, tinkering with something, lost in his own world, so I close the door behind me and head outside.
The restaurant is a casual place with seating inside as well as in the small courtyard.
Milán has found us a table in the courtyard.
Redbrick walls and ivy surround us. He’s lounging in his chair and giving off the vibe of a bored king, with sunglasses hiding his eyes and his head tilted back, catching some of the fall sunshine on his face.
He’s dressed in all black—jeans, T-shirt, and the leather jacket that’s casually tossed over the vacant chair next to him, his chestnut hair styled, the scruffy beard he’s been sporting ever since I met him gone.
When I stop in front of the table, he looks at me and grins.
“You shaved,” I blurt instead of a greeting.
He slides his palm over his jaw.
“The full beard was never really my style. It was high time to get rid of it.”
“Well… You look nice,” I say.
“Thanks.” He pushes his sunglasses up and looks at me.
I suddenly feel like I’m under a microscope.
I don’t remember the last time somebody looked at me like this.
With the intent of looking at me. I’m also not sure I measure up, which is another strange thought, because I’m not used to feeling self-conscious like this.
I’ve never actually cared what anybody thinks of my appearance or looks. With Kira, we were so young that it wasn’t something that even crossed my mind, and since Kira I’ve been too busy raising Theo.
I do try to look decent and dress nicely, but I don’t think I’ve ever looked effortlessly cool like Milán does.
He nods at the chair opposite him.
“Saved you a seat,” he says.
Whatever self-consciousness came over me a moment ago disappears with the bright, teasing smile he sends my way.
A waitress comes over and hands us menus, and we both thank her. I study the menu for a bit.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had brunch,” I say.
“Sure you have.” He shrugs, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “It’s essentially late breakfast. And booze.”
“In a restaurant. Does it count as brunch when I sleep in and have a sandwich at home before dinner?”
“If you chase it with a cocktail.”
“Can I substitute with a beer?”
“Why not?” he says.
“Then I suppose I’ve had brunch once or twice in my life.”
He laughs again. He has a very nice laugh, and today there’s a lightness to it I haven’t heard before. The waitress comes and takes our order.
“How’s Rory?” I ask when it’s just the two of us again.
“Torturing Aiden at home. Apparently there’s some kind of creative writing assignment he’s supposed to turn in tomorrow, and Aiden found out he hasn’t even started yet.”
“You don’t seem that concerned,” I say.
“Because I’m not there. And since the homework fight is usually my fight, I’m actually enjoying the shit out of the fact that this one time, somebody else has to deal with it. I hope Rory slams doors.” He gets a dreamy look on his face that makes me smile.
I tilt my head to the side. “What’s it like? To have siblings.”
He seems taken aback for a moment before a small crease appears between his eyebrows and his eyes get a distant look in them, like he’s gone somewhere far away in search for an answer.
“I’m not sure I’m the right person to answer that question. I didn’t actually grow up with them. I only found out Aiden existed when he looked me up when I was already a teenager. He sort of forced us together. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. And believe me, I tried to say no.”
“It’s probably not an easy thing to come to terms with,” I say.
“It’s not. I’m not even sure why. It’s not like my parents had an especially happy marriage.” The waitress drops off our drinks, and Milán takes a long swallow. “You don’t have any siblings?”
“No. Only child. I have my ex’s little brother, though, and he’s about as close to an actual sibling to me as anybody.”
“Wren?” he says, remembering the name.
I nod. “Are you two close? You and Aiden.”
“More or less? We’ve sanded down some of the sharpest corners over the years, so there’s less punching involved in our discussions nowadays.”
The waitress brings our food, and we both dig in. I’m starving after skipping breakfast, so for a while we’re both fully focused on eating.
“This is pretty damn good,” Milán says, pointing at his quiche before he glances at my eggs benedict. “Want to swap? Or is that one of those things that’s not considered socially acceptable?”
“Sure. When Theo was younger I always got to finish off whatever he left on his plate. Now he eats like he’s always one step shy of starvation, so there’s nothing left for me anymore.”
He grins and hands me his plate, and I give him mine. Just like that. It’s all so easy. I honestly don’t remember ever clicking with somebody with so little effort. I’ve seen him a handful of times, but somehow being around him feels as comfortable as it does with people I’ve known my whole life.
“Never figured having a kid was a life hack for extra food in restaurants,” he says.
“I’m afraid that window has already closed when it comes to Rory.”
“Yeah, it did sound too good to be true. Ah, well.”
“You can always date somebody who shares food,” I say.
He makes a face. “Maybe I’ll just order multiple portions.”
I laugh at the put-off expression on his face.
“What’s wrong with dating?” I ask.