Chapter 21 Brandon
brANDON
NOVEMBER
“Thanksgiving,” I say when I walk into the kitchen.
“Is a holiday…?” Angie quips as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“Well, yes. But I was wondering what your plans were.”
The best part of my home is that no matter what spot you’re at, the sunrise will always find a way to light up the darkest corners.
And in the kitchen is no different. The morning sun bounces off the hardwood floors and onto Angie, making her look ethereal with her blonde hair glowing and her blue eyes so clear it’s hypnotizing.
“It’s two weeks away. But my plans are the same as they always are: watch the parade, then play the piano until I’ve run out of songs to play, maybe eat something, and then sleep,” she lists like it’s nothing.
“Your parents aren’t doing anything this year?”
“I haven’t asked. But maybe?”
“Well, how about after dinner we come back here and watch all the John Hughes movies and eat pie?”
“I could get behind that,” she tells me and slides on her sock-covered feet over to me. “I—” Angie is cut off by the knocking at my door. “Are you expecting anyone?” she asks nervously and I feel my own heart free-fall to my stomach.
“No,” I say to her as a rapid succession of knocks follows.
“Stay here,” I tell her and kiss her on the forehead.
Our time to tell our families runs out every single day that we’re together.
Every call, every text, every knock at my door could mean they’ve found out.
I’ve done an okay job avoiding my mom’s inquisition regarding my love life during Sunday dinners, but I can only hold her off for so long until she takes matters into her own hands.
Checking the peephole, I see it’s just Carter and open my door to him.
“I thought you were one of my brother’s,” I say in lieu of a greeting when I open the door for him and let him step inside.
“I’m in love with him,” Carter blurts out and I look at him like I already knew this as I lead us back into the kitchen, where Angie is standing nervously. When she sees it’s Carter, she relaxes.
“Hi, Carter,” she greets with a smile.
“Oh. Hi, Angie.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, as she looks between the two of us.
“He’s in love,” I say and place my hand on his shoulder.
“I mean, I knew that when you two came over here for dinner months ago. Is this a newer development for yourself?”
Carter turns to look at me as if I know that Angie knows how to read minds.
“When are you two going to realize that women pick up on clues a lot easier than men?”
She says that while looking at me, and in that look, I know we’re on the same page.
We just haven’t uttered those three words.
And I wonder—if Carter hadn’t knocked on my door, was she ready to say it?
Because I’ve caught myself a handful of times from blurting it out, scared that she wouldn’t say it back.
But now. With this look she’s giving me. I know she’s as ready to say those words as I am.
“I have heard that,” Carter says sheepishly and looks my way. “So, I should tell him?”
My mouth opens and closes like a guppy, and Angie walks over and gently moves me out of the way so that she can talk. “What did I just say about women being able to pick up on clues easier? Is Miles in town?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. My advice is not to make it a grand affair. I believe those should only be reserved for proposals. Are you positive of his feelings for you?”
Carter nods. “Yes.”
“Okay. You can either be really symbolic and romantic by recreating your first date. Or you can do it very casually, like if you’re watching a movie or cooking together.”
I watch as my best friend absorbs the words of the girl I’m more than deeply in like with, with an intensity as if she’s giving him the answers to a test. But is love a test? Or is the relationship the test and love is the grade?
Once Angie finishes talking Carter down from his spiral over his love realization, I walk him to the door.
“So, have you told her you love her yet?” he asks, purposefully keeping his voice down.
“No,” I say and open the door, “I think she was about to tell me before you knocked on the door.”
Carter winces and steps into the hallway. “Sorry, buddy.”
“No worries.”
“Thank you.”
“That was all her.”
He peers past me toward the direction of where she is. “Yeah. You have yourself a keeper. See ya later.”
“Later.” I watch until he disappears into the elevator, then head back toward the kitchen, where Angie is cleaning up from making our breakfast. She must not notice me watching her.
Or maybe she does, and she’s focusing on the task at hand.
How terrible must love be if it brings me happiness I never thought I’d have.
Because, despite every rightful obstacle we have in our way, I love her.
I love her heart.
I love her vision for the future.
I love her joy.
I love her sadness.
I love every piece of her that she hates.
I love Angela Taylor.
It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I’ve been at my parents’ house helping Mom prepare for tomorrow. While it’s just the six of us, she has to make double of everything because Ford, Evan, and Malcolm eat like they’ve never been fed.
“I ran into Christie at the store today,” Mom says casually, referring to Emily’s mom.
“You did? I thought they would stay in New York for the holiday like they usually do.”
“Nope. She told me Emily made the last-minute decision to fly here.”
I look at my mom, and suddenly, I’m scared. Scared to see the girl who almost became my sister-in-law disappear. Scared that she’ll balk at the idea of me dating the sister of the man who took James from her.
“I bet her family’s excited,” I say offhandedly.
“Yeah,” my mom says, but it’s laced with sadness.
Of all of us boys, James was the softest, taking after Mom.
He would talk to strangers just walking down the street, he wanted to bring home stray and injured animals, and he felt his emotions more than either of us.
Well, not more than Evan. But I think Evan pulled his traits from James.
While there's still four of us Hayes boys, a giant piece will always be missing. And that’s not something any of us will ever get over.
“Do you think she’ll come see us?” I ask to lighten the mood.
Mom dumps the chopped carrots into a bowl. “I would love for her to come and see us. But I won’t hold my breath.”
I open my mouth to ask her what she means when she leaves the kitchen.
November is a hard month for our family.
James would have been twenty-eight and married for two years; he and Emily likely would’ve started a family as soon as they could have because they both wanted kids.
Emily grew up an only child, so I knew she wanted a lot of kids, and my brother always wanted kids—a little girl after growing up in a house of all boys.
I’m finishing up the last of the prep when Dad strolls in through the garage with boxes of pizza.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, buddy,” he greets and sets the boxes on the table. “Where’s your mom?”
“Upstairs, I think?”
“What happened?”
“We were talking and she told me Emily is flying here for Thanksgiving,” I explain.
He moves his head in a dramatic nod. “That’ll do it. How are you doing?”
“Really good.” A huge part of me wants to tell him why.
But then the other part of me remembers how close he and Mr. Taylor were, and how hard it was for him to lose that friendship.
In losing James, I always had my mom’s grief at the forefront of my mind.
Yet I never stopped and considered my dad’s loss in this, too.
“Well, are you gonna leave me hanging?” he asks teasingly.
“You are just like Mom,” I say with a chuckle. “When we’re ready to go public, we will.”
“When who’s ready to go public?” my younger brother Evan asks when he walks into the kitchen.
“Your brother and the person he’s seeing,” my dad jokes.
“I knew you were seeing someone,” Ford interjects.
Where Evan looks like James with his blond hair and bright brown eyes that are full of joy, Ford looks like me with brown hair and hazel eyes—only he’s a lot cockier than I was at his age.
And then there’s Malcolm, who’s a solid mix of all of us with his dark blond hair and gray eyes, making him the epitome of the middle child.
“What gave that away?” Evan asks, jumping on the counter next to Dad.
“Hiding his phone was the number one giveaway,” Ford begins, holding a finger up, “not being present at family dinners was another, and always vetoing us from coming over to his place.”
“Maybe I have a lot on my mind and I don’t want you making my place a mess,” I counter because it’s true that anytime either of my brothers comes over to my place, they leave it in worse shape than when they got there.
My brothers and dad look at me like I’m lying through my teeth—which I am, but I feel like mine and Angie’s time is quickly running out.
“That’s not it, but we’ll let it pass for now. Let’s eat,” my dad chants and heads upstairs to get Mom.
Ford gets the plates out and we all settle around the table.
Conversation luckily moves on to other things that don’t revolve around my relationship.
Ford is a junior in high school and lets us know that, even though he still has time to make up his mind, he’s decided to go the culinary route instead of college for a formal education.
Evan, on the other hand, is in his second year of college at PhilU, getting his undergrad in education with a focus on science.
Mom is thrilled that one of her sons is following in her footsteps.
She was on and off teaching when she had us, but once Ford was mobile, she decided to go back.
Besides Dad and us, teaching is her other true love.