Chapter Eleven #2
“If things pan out for them, we’re going to be a part of each other’s lives for the long haul. I just want to see you get better, Gordy. I always have, whether it was professionally or personally.”
“I know.”
“We’re having a second Christmas gathering over at Wagner and Vickie’s the day after tomorrow. Gannett’s girls will be back. There’s an open invite, if you feel up to it.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Brooks stands and starts heading for the door. Before he leaves, he turns back. “Merry Christm—oh my gosh! Gordy! You have a seagull in your house!” he yelps.
I turn around to find Gannett’s trash chicken hanging out on my kitchen island. All I can do is shake my head and sigh. “I do. That fucker barged right into my life, and I can’t seem to get rid of him.”
Not unlike his handler.
“Gordy?” Evan tilts his head, greeting me at the door of his parents’ place two days later. “Surprised you showed up,” he notes, but not in the bitter way he used to address me in years past.
“That makes two of us,” I reply, jostling the duffel of gifts I managed to procure in the post-Christmas craze that was my day yesterday. “I, uh, sat in my truck for a bit, debating on whether or not to come in,” I admit.
“We’re so glad you did,” Brooks says, sliding up behind his husband and smiling at me. “Breathe,” he adds pointedly. “You were invited, remember?”
I nod.
“Dad!” Taryn calls out, jumping up from the couch in the living room, just inside the front entry.
“Gordy?!” I hear Gannett, right before he practically plows Taryn, Brooks, and Evan over to get to the door. “Hey, man!” His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, rendering me frozen in place.
“Would’ya all just back out of the doorway and let the man in?” I hear Wagner loudly grumble from somewhere deeper inside the house. “Cripes, you fools all act like the Abominable Snowman just arrived to hang the star on the tree.”
The four of them move to the side, after Gannett grabs the bag from me. “What’s all this?” he whispers as I make my way inside.
“I thought this was Christmas. I brought gifts.”
His jaw drops. “You didn’t have to do that. This—this is so thoughtful.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Wee-Waters. It’s called being polite. And yeah, sometimes I can be.”
He nudges my ribs playfully, then apologizes quickly, “Ope, sorry. Broke rule number one. Though technically,” he drawls, “that was a condition of living with you, which is no longer the case.”
No, but—fuck, don’t I hate admitting this—I wish it was.
I don’t know if it was the realization I made during the chat I had with Brooks, or if it’s because of just how quiet it got without all his nonsensical bullshit, but…
I actually miss him. I will take this admission with me to the grave, but I sat out on the balcony with his damn bird this morning, feeding him scraps of my homemade protein waffles while he kept peeking in the windows—seeking out Gannett, no doubt.
How a bird goes from grazing on discards to being fed premium human food is beyond me.
“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there and hold down the welcome mat?” Gannett asks me, nodding towards the crowd of people all gathered around the tree next to the fireplace.
When I step into the living room, Brooks abandons his seat and sits on Evan’s lap. I thank him and take the empty chair. Gannett sits on the arm, next to me. Morgan passes him a gift from under the tree, which he then hands to me.
I look down at the tag.
He smirks when I peer up at him. “You got me something?”
He shrugs. “It’s not much. Didn’t know if you’d come today or not, but I figured I’d be ready, if you did.”
A foreign feeling slams into me as I register this being the first gift I’ve gotten from anyone other than Taryn or my mother.
I’m not about material things, that’s not why the emotion registers the way it does.
He says it’s not much, like it’s no big deal, but it’s a huge fuckin’ deal to me.
It’s the significance that someone cares enough to—fuck, the overwhelming feeling claws at my guts… I can’t even think about it.
I unwrap the present to reveal a box of Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes.
A lump forms in my throat, memories slamming into me at full force.
My eyes start to well with tears, forcing me to blink them away quickly before I totally break down over a box of snack cakes. How the hell did Gannett know—
“I figured I owed you, since Gulligan stole your last one,” he blurts out his explanation. From across the room, I see Brooks’ eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but he doesn’t say a word aloud.
“Can I have one of doze?” a little voice asks me, tugging at my pant leg, then adds, “Please?” I glance down to see it’s one of Gannett’s twins.
“Terra, hunny,” Gannett says, “good job using your manners, but Gordy really likes his treats. Don’t beg. Your Nanna made a whole new fruitcake, since naughty Noodles got his mitts on the last one.”
“It’s okay,” I say as I tear into the box, passing one to Terra, and then grab another for the other little girl who wears a matching pleading look.
“Thank you, Mr. Gordy,” Tati replies shyly, carefully tearing open her package—unlike the gremlin-esque way her sister tore into her own.
I’ve met the twins less than a handful of times, but every time Tati has been the one I recognize as being too nervous to even say anything to me before Terra does.
“You’re welcome,” I tell them both. Then, I nod over to my duffel.
“There’s more in there for you ladies. There’s something in there for everyone,” I add, thankful that I just so happened to also pick up a couple of extra random gift cards, in case there were more people here than I expected.
Kind of like the two women I see sitting together on the loveseat.
I hope, whoever they are, they like going to the cinema.
The girls tear open their packages, and to my relief, they seem to really like the Disney character blankets, dolls, and stuffies I managed to find in the thoroughly picked-over department store.
Gannett said they were into Princesses, and I know a bunch of their other things got either smoke-damaged or mildewed and tossed out from his apartment.
Whenever they get a new room over at Gannett’s, I thought the twinkling fairy lights would be a nice touch.
After both girls launch themselves at me with their giddy appreciation, Gannett blinks at me in awe.
He mouths a sincere thank you at me while everyone else is distracted by opening up their gifts.
If it's regarding the fact that I let his girls jump on me and hug me, or for the notion that I brought them presents, I’m not sure.
Evan offers me a lop-sided grin, waving the Harley Davidson gift-card I got him and Brooks around. “Thank you, Gordy. I feel bad we didn’t get you anything…”
“Sure we did!” Brooks jumps up off the seat and roots around in the unlabeled, mismatched stocking on the mantle—one that looks like it was hung in haste.
All the other stockings appear to be embroidered with the names of everyone here.
I’m assuming Lizzy and Olivia are the two ladies I don’t recognize, which means they’re Brooks’ moms, if the way he addresses them are any tell.
“You put a stocking up for me?” My eyebrows bunch.
Brooks winks at me. “Something told me you’d be here today.
” He pulls out an envelope and hands it to me.
I open it to find a gift certificate to the tattoo parlor Gannett’s nephew is an artist at.
Colton smirks, eyeing my exposed skin. “If there’s anywhere left I can ink for you, just pick a time and I can get you in my chair. ”
Evan proudly shows me his half-sleeve. “These are some examples of his work,” he says, pointing at the array of newly-inked flowers on his arm—something I’d never expect in a million fuckin’ years for him to have tattooed on himself.
Likely because of my actions back in high-school, Evan’s been all about exuding an over-abundance of masculinity.
Next to a realistic-looking purple aster, a familiar name, written in script, catches my eye and instantly, I freeze up.
Ryann.
“Who?” I ask, pointing at the name, but unable to choke out the rest of my question around the sudden knot in my throat. My eyes flick up to meet Evan’s, then his husband’s. They both wear matching expressions of confusion.
“My sister,” Brooks states, and my gut clenches, panic surging within me as memories of her flood my mind.
Brooks’ last name is Gallagher. Ryann’s last name was—fuck! Realization takes hold, sending my pulse racing. A sinking feeling in my chest renders me breathless as my vision starts to prickle around the edges.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gannett asks softly, leaning in carefully, yet keeping enough distance so as not to touch me.
“I can’t b-breathe,” I tell him, feeling the floodwaters of panic starting to surge in.
Brooks dips his head, looking me in the eye. “Gordy,” he says calmly yet assertively, “let’s get you outside so you can get some fresh air.”
I shake my head. I can’t, not with him. Not if the Ryann I knew is his sister.
One glance over at Morgan, however, and I have all the confirmation I need.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it until now, but that three-year-old little girl of Ryann’s, who I knew as Marie, is now sitting in this living room as the twenty-year-old girlfriend of my son.
“Yes,” Gannett says more sternly. “Come on, Gordy,” he presses, daring enough to pull me up and tug me out the front door behind him. I barely get outside before I collapse onto the front stoop, only being held upright by leaning on the wooden column that holds up the roof.
No, no, no… this can’t be happening again. I can’t have another panic attack here. Fuck, they’ll send me away for good this time if I can’t hold myself together. I try to take a few calming breaths, but with the weight on my chest, my body feeling as if I’m being enclosed in a watery tomb, I can’t.
Gannett quietly kneels down behind me. “I’m—I’m going to put my hands on you, Gordy,” he says nervously. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch you tense up like this.”
When I don’t respond, because I can’t, his palms rest cautiously on my shoulders. When I don’t shrug him away, because I can’t, his firm grip starts kneading into the tense muscles on my shoulders. Hell—his touch just exudes safety. Comfort. No hint of malintent.
“I don’t know what just happened in there,” he tells me, barely above a whisper, “and you don’t have to say anything at all right now. Just focus on your breathing. In and out, there you go.”
His hands cautiously make their rounds to all the tense spots on my neck and shoulders.
I hear him taking exaggerated breaths, probably trying to coax me into following suit.
My body betrays me as I feel myself instinctually leaning into his touch, rather than away.
Before long, the pins-and-needles sensation starts to fade away, and the constriction on my chest seems to lessen.
I sigh out in resignation. I don’t even have to look at him right now to know that he’s probably regarding me like I’m a ticking time-bomb in front of him. Let someone in. Brooks’ words echo in my mind, and I briefly consider letting Gannett be that person.
Then, another of Brooks’ sentiments pops up, reverberating in my head. There will be someone that will treat you with the care you deserve. That silences me before I can tell him anything, because I had that in someone once, and that someone, Ryann, is now dead… because of me.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“I can’t go back in there,” I tell him, standing and fishing around my pocket for my keys.
I stalk towards my truck, unwilling to look back so I can’t see that dejected look on his face.
I can’t even go back in there and face the rest of them.
“I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” I murmur, before climbing in and driving away in a spray of gravel.
Once again, I have tried to do better, and I failed. This is why I shouldn’t have listened to Brooks and just stayed the fuck at home.