7. Connor
Staying at Mom and Dad’s house is almost like stepping into the way-way-back machine. Mom passed away from a stroke several years ago and Dad hasn’t changed one thing since. I’m not sure if he’s left it as a memorial to her or if he’s afraid that she’ll haunt him if he redecorates, but as each holiday comes and goes, I find myself seeing it less as a comfort and more as an unwelcome reminder. Even sleeping in my old room last night—something I haven’t done in literal years—I woke up three times thinking I was back in high school and half-expecting Mom to be rustling around in the kitchen making pancakes.
It’s not that I want Mom’s touch erased from the home we grew up in. I just think I’d like to see my dad moving forward a little more. For a man who used to be so aggressive in business pursuits, I can’t understand why he’s so stuck when it comes to his personal life.
I pour myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and walk into the living room at the front of the house. My older brother is standing in front of the couch and staring intently out the large picture window, waiting for Jess’ arrival, no doubt. He was already tormenting Scott last night about not being able to wait for her to get here.
“Be honest with me. Did she file a restraining order?” I ask him, breaking the silence.
Chris is unfazed. “Shh,” he commands without averting his glance. “Timing is crucial here, it has to be just right.”
I take a sip of my coffee and tilt my head to the side. “You must have it bad for this woman,” I tease, even though the thought of it makes my stomach twinge.
He has zero reaction, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. If Chris was at all interested, I’d be on the ground in a headlock right now.
“If I’m even five seconds late, it’s going to ruin the entire scene,” he continues quietly. I’m not even sure if he’s talking to me or himself at this point. “This is the tradition that kicks off the holiday season, it’s never been missed.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “Since when has this been a holiday tradition?”
That gets his attention, albeit briefly. He looks over his shoulder and scoffs. “Dude, when are you ever here before 5:00 pm on Thanksgiving?” he rolls his eyes before turning his gaze back out front.
I fall silent, partially in surprise since Chris has never been one to criticize my work habits.
“The girls are probably waiting at the window juuuust like I am,” he says, regarding Scott’s daughters next door.
“You sound like the hunter in Jurassic Park talking about velociraptors,” I mutter.
Then his phone goes off with a text and I watch the corners of his mouth draw up into a huge smile. He shows me the screen:
Jess:
All right, hubby, I’m about 2 minutes out, are you ready? It’s showtime!
“Clever girl!” he beams before sending her a quick reply. Then he shoves his phone in his back pocket and loudly claps his hands once before he rubs them together like a storybook villain.
“Is Jessica here?” My dad’s deep voice comes from the top of the stairs as he makes his way down.
“Two minutes out,” Chris replies.
“Excellent,” Dad smiles. “Opening Ceremonies!”
I stare at my dad in shock. “Wait, you know about this, too?”
“It’s tradition. Never been missed.”
I glare at my brother. “You clearly paid him to say that.”
Chris again ignores me and continues his window surveillance like a stalker.
“How long has this ‘tradition’ been going on?” I ask Dad.
Dad chuckles. “Traditions don’t have to be decades old, son.”
“There’s her car!” Chris interjects. He dashes over to the front door, and I swear I hear him quietly count to five before he throws it open and saunters across the yard in front of our picture window. Jess’ red Toyota Camry pulls into the Berringer driveway, and before she can even fully step out of the car, she’s immediately bombarded by Scott’s two little girls and then my brother, walking towards her with open arms and a wolfish grin.
I take another sip of my coffee and stand beside my dad as we silently watch the whole thing unfold like it’s on a big screen TV. Jess picks up her youngest niece and then leans down to hug the older one, all the time with a huge smile on her face. Scott’s wife, who is apparently pregnant again, gives her a hug and then Chris swoops in and picks Jess up off the ground in a bear hug.
I don’t know what he says, but whatever it is makes Scott yell and try to wedge his body between the two of them. Chris makes a big show of being offended, while Jess lets her head fall back in laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such genuine joy from someone over the age of ten before, she looks radiant.
As if reading my thoughts, Dad says, “she’s been so much happier since she left Alex.”
“I don’t really remember much about him,” I confess. “What happened? He didn’t cheat on her, did he?”
Dad shakes his head. “Just the opposite, he never let her out of his sight. He was usually pretty good about keeping up appearances, but towards the end, he just couldn’t help himself. They had a pretty big blow-up a few years back and I think that was when Scott and your brother finally helped her move out one day when he was at work.”
“I guess I don’t understand. Couples fight all the time, there had to be something else going on.”
Dad sighs. “Connor, you are a gifted business man. Your ability to read people and to negotiate surpasses even my own, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. But I’m concerned that outside the boardroom you’re…well…”
I look at him and furrow my brows. I can read people everywhere, dammit! What is he searching for?
“You’re an idiot,” he finishes. Then his booming laugh bounces off the walls and I roll my eyes and take another sip of coffee.
“Jesus, Dad, thanks for the subtlety.”
“We both know that was never my strength. Listen, my point is that the only proper relationships you’ve ever been witness to are my marriage to your mother and your brother’s…ill-fated situation with Sabrina. You haven’t seen the depths some people will sink to when they’re desperate for control.”
I look back out the window and watch as a friendly battle continues to wage, spilling over into our front yard now. Scott runs towards Chris to tackle when Jess jumps on Scott’s back, laughing hysterically and yelling something. Probably telling Chris to run based on her hand gestures. Mr. Berringer has now joined in, carrying a tiny granddaughter under each arm and gunning for Chris while Mrs. Berringer and Scott’s wife just call out from the sidelines, rooting for their chosen champion.
Watching Jess out there with three giant men, tackling and laughing in between getting up and rubbing dead grass off her clothes, it’s hard for me to see how anyone that outgoing could ever be under someone’s control.
Then I look at my brother, who’s clearly enjoying himself. “Do you think Chris would have had kids if he and Sabrina had stayed together?” I ask.
My dad just sighs in response, something I’ve heard him do too often since I got here.
“He just looks like a natural out there,” I push.
“Yes he does,” is all Dad can seem to manage. “Well, I’m going to go pick up the turkey dinner from the store. They threw in a free pumpkin pie for us this year.”
There’s more than a hint of sadness in his voice and I feel it, too. I know Mom would have loved to be out there with all of them. Especially if Chris had married and had kids. Or if I had any.
But my plan still includes having a family. Lots of people wait until later in life for those things.
Still, watching the Berringers live out a Norman Rockwell painting in our front yard with my brother makes it all feel like a dream that’s just out of reach.