Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Tatum
The red brick, single story home with attached two-car garage looked exactly the same as it had when Ma and Dad purchased it in the late eighties.
For years, they had talked about adding a second story for more room, but the conversation died down after we became a family of three, and these days it was a blessing because neither of them would have been able to handle the stairs, anyway.
My grip tightened and loosened on the steering wheel of the rental car as my men waited patiently for my signal to go inside.
I couldn’t say what had made me so nervous.
The conversation with Ma had gone well. She hadn’t even yelled at me for lying. But something about being back here, with these larger-than-life men in tow, felt surreal.
Would they fit into this piece of suburbia?
Would they understand how much Ma and Dad meant to me?
Would Dad even know who I was this time?
None of these questions could be answered sitting in the driveway, and perhaps the answers didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Instead of letting myself spiral any deeper, I released my seatbelt and pushed out of the car without another word. The slap of several car doors behind me was the reminder I wasn’t going in alone.
The house still smelled the same. The slap of lavender and fresh baked bread surrounded us as we slipped our shoes off inside the front door and padded through the living room in our socks.
“That you, Tater-tots?” Ma called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, Ma. It’s us.”
“Come through and make sure you take off your shoes.”
“Already done, Ma.” I smiled as we stepped through the doorway into the kitchen and found her elbow deep in flour and eggs.
“Good. Now, can one of you boys open the jar of tomato sauce on the counter over there?”
Otis was the first to reach for the jar, twisting the lid off with a pop and waiting for the next instruction.
Harvey jumped in, too, kneading the pasta under Ma’s instruction as Calix and Toby stood back wearing matching looks of utter bewilderment.
I wondered if they’d ever been exposed to this kind of domesticity.
Possibly not.
While the lasagna was assembled under Ma’s watchful eye, I slipped between the brothers, squeezing Toby’s hand and giving Calix a warm smile in hopes he would understand that here he was safe.
“So you boys are musicians?” Ma asked, dusting her hands off and reaching for the oven timer.
“Yes, ma’am,” Otis said.
He pushed a curl out of his face, leaving a white streak of flour across his cheek. Harvey absently reached across and wiped the mark from his face before continuing to wipe the countertops clean. Ma smiled in approval, sending me a sly wink when she caught my gaze. Nothing got past Dottie King.
When the air was thick with the smell of tomatoes and cooked ground beef, and the counters gleamed, I excused us all under the pretense of a house tour.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said as soon as we were out of earshot.
“We’ll all be eating it, so why shouldn’t we help?” Otis said, running a hand over the river stone feature wall that ran the length of the hallway.
“Thanks. She insists on doing everything herself. I get so worried about her.”
“Where’s your dad?”
He hadn’t been in the living room when we walked through, and it was too early for him to be in bed.
We wandered through the house, peeking in doorways as I gave a running commentary of each of the rooms until we reached the final door at the end of the hall.
The edges of the door seemed to pull the light from the hallway around it, and I wondered if the others felt the same sinking sense of dread I did at the sight.
“Would he be in there?” Harvey asked.
“Maybe we go back to the living room,” Toby suggested.
I shook myself and twisted the doorknob. “Can’t hurt to look.”
The false cheer fell flat, but it was enough to help me push the door open and turn the light on to reveal a time capsule.
Posters of Tony Hawk and Victoria’s Secret models wallpapered the room, a skateboard and a soccer ball abandoned on the floor next to what I had always thought was a vase, but my adult mind could identify as a bong.
Nothing had been moved since the day my brother walked out and never returned.
“This is Danny’s room,” I heard myself say. I lifted a black hoodie from the back of his desk chair, smiling at the stupid wolf cartoon imprinted on the back.
“He was my brother. He…disappeared when I was a kid. They never found him.”
There was a general murmur of sympathy from my men, but this was an old wound that had had plenty of time to scar.
“I always thought that losing him is what caused my dad’s Alzheimer’s. It was like he couldn’t process a world without Danny in it. I tried to step up and fill the void, but…” I trailed off, taking in Danny’s prized possession, a baseball signed by his favorite Chicago Coyotes star, Bud Walker.
I took a deep breath before turning back to the others. “We should really keep looking for my dad. He has a…habit…of going out looking for Danny when he’s not well. He could be in trouble.”
We trooped back to the living room just as a young woman opened the front door with Dad behind her.
“Oh, hello. You must be Tatum. I’m Kim.” We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, and when her attention drifted to the men behind me, her face lost a little color.
“Are you…” She cleared her throat. “Ah, hi. Are you Goats and Vandals?”
“Of course they are, dear. Now don’t make a fuss. David needs his medication before dinner.”
Clearly flustered, Kim opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking between Calix’s glower, Harvey’s smirk, and Otis’s genuine look of sympathy before she scuttled out of the room.
“That was mean. You should know the effect you have on people,” I chided them.
Toby wrapped his arm around me, pressing an unrepentant kiss to my head before giving Ma a charming grin. “When’s dinner?”
The night passed in a haze of good food, long overdue conversation, and when Ma pulled out Danny’s old guitar, Calix agreed to play something special.
The tune wasn’t anything I’d heard him play before, something lighter than he usually wrote. Calmer.
The lyrics spoke of lies becoming truths and salvation found in the fire. It wasn’t until the second verse that I realized he was singing about me.
A lie to get a job had turned into one of the greatest adventures I never dreamed of wanting, and as he laid out our story to music, the room grew blurry and my heart ached.
The trust between us had built slowly, and as much as we still had a way to go, his lyrics told me he wanted this to work as much as I did.
That under the pain and distrust, love was blooming.
As the last notes trembled in the air, Ma and Dad applauded while I sat still in shock.
“It’s still a work in progress,” Calix said, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered the guitar to Dad. Vulnerability wasn’t something he was good with, and he’d put a lot of himself in that song.
“It’s perfect,” I corrected, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
Ma glanced between us but didn’t comment. I’d hear about it later, though.
Otis’s phone rang, and he excused himself outside as we said our goodbyes. Ma didn’t see us to the door, which was odd, but she’d spent the night entertaining us, and she was probably exhausted. Even with Kim’s help, it was obvious Dad needed more care than last time I’d been home.
The drive back to St Paul was quiet. Harvey and Otis whispered quietly in the back seat while Calix stared out the window beside me. Toby hummed the tune Calix had played at my parent’s house under his breath, like he was trying to remember every line.
I didn’t think I’d ever forget the moment Calix decided to show me his heart.