Chapter Forty-Three #3
“We all love him. And, between the two of us, we’re all going to enjoy actually being around him for longer than a few days. Even if we don’t love that he’s hurt during it. Maybe this was God forcing him to slow down for a bit, to spend time with his loved ones.”
There was some hurt there in his words.
But I didn’t know enough about their family to fully understand it. And I certainly couldn’t ask.
“I’m sure he will be happy to have you guys around. Once he gets used to this new reality of his.”
“That’s the hope,” he said, nodding, then placing the list of numbers on the fridge under my Lettuce Eat magnet that made his lips curve up as he grabbed it.
“Call any of us. At any time of day or night if you need help. Or even need someone to vent to. I know taking care of people can… it can take a lot out of you,” he said.
And, again, there was a story there. I found myself wanting to know it, too. But I couldn’t ask.
“I think we will be just fine tonight,” I assured him with more confidence than I felt. “He’s probably going to crash hard after he eats.”
“What’s your schedule like, work-wise?” he asked. “Just so we know when Atlas might need company.”
“Four days a week, I work eight-to-five. One night a week, I do the overnight boarding shift. Usually on a Tuesday night,” I added. “I almost always bring Samson with me, so he won’t be pestering Atlas either.”
“Okay. Great. I will talk to everyone to figure out who can be here and when. I apologize for a bunch of strangers being in and out of the house too.”
“It’s not my house,” I said, shrugging.
“Honey, it is,” he said, head tipping to the side.
“Which is why, during the hours when you will be here, I will make sure everyone texts first to let you know they’re dropping by.
And that no one stays later than seven. Your life is going to be disrupted enough.
I don’t want you to feel like you have to play host to our family too. ”
“I don’t mind,” I said. And I truly didn’t. Loneliness had been my dominant feeling since I’d arrived in town. And the idea of not being so alone all the time actually brought some comfort. Even if these people were strangers. I’d get to know them soon enough.
“You’re a sweet kid, AJ,” he said, making a warm sensation move through my belly. God, when was the last time a man said something nice to me? Ages. “Atlas will be getting his new bank card tomorrow after I take him to the doctor. So he will get some cash to keep on hand for expenses, and—“
“Kingston,” I interjected. “It’s all going to be okay,” I told him, sensing he really needed to hear that.
Sure enough, I saw his shoulders lower a bit. Like a weight had been lifted.
“I’ve been the parental figure to everyone for a long time,” he admitted. “It’s a hard habit to shake, even when they’re all adults.”
“They’re lucky to have you. But he’s going to be okay. And he has me here.”
“We don’t deserve you, AJ,” he said, coming over to me, and giving my shoulder a squeeze. I got the feeling that he was likely a hugger, but worried that might be overstepping.
I suddenly had the urge to throw my arms around him. To feel him hug me back.
I’d always wanted a big brother. Someone to keep an eye on me. To protect me.
I reached up, squeezing the forearm of the hand on my shoulder.
“But I’m glad we have you. Please, call me if you need help with anything.”
“I will,” I assured him, giving him a smile.
With that, he said his goodbyes and made his way out.
I walked back out, finding a pill bottle on the coffee table. I figured that was what their Shane friend had dropped off. Maybe I should have balked at someone sharing their prescription medication. But if there was anyone who needed it, it was Atlas right then.
I collected Atlas’s empty plate and watched his brother’s car back out of the driveway.
“You’re really lucky to have him,” I told Atlas, “All of them,” I added, the longing in my heart so acute that it hurt. A physical pang behind my ribcage that I wanted to rub at to ease.
Atlas’s head tipped to the side, watching me, and I got the feeling he was seeing more than I wanted him to.
“I know,” he agreed, nodding.
“Do you?” I asked, knowing I was pushing it, but unable to help myself.
I was projecting and I knew it.
But if you had a family that loved you that much, why the hell would you spend ninety-nine percent of your time away from them?
“I do,” he said, but his voice was smaller.
I shook my head, trying to force the weird thoughts out of my mind.
“So, do you want to crash here tonight, or do you want me to help you to your room?”
“Honestly, the idea of moving again right now sets my teeth on edge,” he admitted, suddenly looking exhausted and pale.
“The couch works in a pinch. I’ve fallen asleep there more nights than I care to admit to,” I said, shrugging. “But you need a couple pillows. And maybe another blanket,” I told him, then scurried off to get him comfortable.
Pillows under his neck, more under his heavy cast.
I scooted the coffee table closer by his upper body so he could reach the acetaminophen, pain pills, water, and remote.
By the time I fed Samson and took him outside, Atlas was out cold.
Leaving me alone with my many thoughts until, eventually, I passed out too.