The donut was OK, but it didn’t taste half as good as those magic things she and I’d made last night. Funny how some things from childhood—your favorite movie, that song you loved, the fucking beanie you thought made you look cool but only made you look like a dipshit—don’t have the same appeal later in life. But that sweet taste had been just as good as I’d remembered, if not better. I wondered if Aaron had ever taught the girls to make those. Probably not, since he hadn’t really been around when our grandma and I were making them. Maybe I’ll pick up some groceries too. Do a little baking with the girls. They’ll love that.
My spirits lifted.
At the tree farm, I chose one I thought would fit in their living room, helped the guy tie it to the top of my car, and then hit Meijer for a tree stand and some strands of lights in case theirs didn’t work. I also grabbed crescent rolls, marshmallows, butter, sugar, and cinnamon, my excitement building. On the way to my brother’s house, I briefly wondered what Claire was doing today. Was she working on her house? Painting? Had she slept late? Or had she, like me, been restless all night and woken up early?
“Enough,” I muttered as I pulled into the driveway. “Put her out of your fucking mind already.”
That was easier to do once the kids spotted the tree. I heard them shouting and banging on the window as I untied it from the car, and a minute later all three came racing out the front door with their boots on but no winter coats. They all talked at once, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
“Is that for us?”
“Is that a real tree?”
“Did you chop it down?”
“Can we help decorate it?”
“We never had a real tree before!”
“Does Mommy know?”
“Daddy’s home!”
At that one, I stopped what I was doing and looked behind me. “What did you say?”
“We never had a real tree before,” said Ava, her blue eyes wide.
“No, after that.” I scanned their faces, thinking I must have heard wrong. I’d just been here two days ago. No sign of Aaron. “Did someone say your dad is home?”
“Yes!” Hailey jumped up and down, smiling proudly that her voice had been heard. “He’s back!”
“Girls!” Josie’s voice carried from the front door. “Get in here without your coats on! It’s freezing!”
I looked at her, the question on my face. She nodded and smiled.
I turned away.
The girls scurried back into the house, and I returned to the task of freeing the tree, my hands moving a little slower now. I always felt this weird mix of things when my brother came home. Relief that he was home safe. Happiness that his wife and kids had him back. Anger that he’d left them again in the first place. Frustration that he couldn’t seem to overcome his problems. Guilt because so much of his pain stemmed from the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of our father, abuse he’d taken to protect me while I hid upstairs or in the basement or in the yard, covering my ears and wishing I could fly.
And underneath it all, so shameful I didn’t even want to acknowledge it, was resentment that my role in his family would now be reduced. It was so stupid, and I hated myself for feeling it, but some secret part of me enjoyed being the man his family depended on. Enjoyed the responsibility of taking care of people. Enjoyed the way they looked at me, trusting and grateful. When my brother was gone, I got to feel that for a while. When he was home, all that was gone.
Immediately I felt like shit.
Don’t be a dick. They’re not your family. It’s not your house. You don’t even want a wife, let alone kids or a home. How the hell would you make that work, anyway? What if you got caught in a scam and sent back to jail? How do you think your family would feel about you then?
I braced two hands on the frame of my SUV and took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to get my head on straight.
But I didn’t feel right in my skin.
* * *
Inside the house, I put the groceries away in the kitchen—my earlier excitement about baking with the girls had been snuffed out—and set up the tree stand in the corner of the front room.
Josie shushed the excited kids. “Daddy’s still sleeping,” she said, putting a finger to her lips.
I kept quiet as I hauled the tree inside and fixed it in the stand, thinking it should be Aaron doing this for his family and not me. Aaron wondering if his pregnant wife had made her doctor appointment yet. Aaron asking how Peyton’s ears were and if the medicine had worked.
“Yes. She’s better.” My sister-in-law lowered her voice. “And I haven’t made the appointment yet, but I’m going to.”
I frowned but held my tongue. Scolding her wasn’t my place. “Can you hold the tree?”
“Sure.” Josie held the tree steady while I got beneath it to make sure it wouldn’t tip over in the stand.
“Mommy, where are the ornaments?” Ava asked.
“In the basement. Why don’t you go down there and see if you can find the boxes?” she said brightly.
The girls traipsed into the kitchen and down the basement steps, leaving us in silence. When the tree was secure, I got to my feet and glanced toward the closed bedroom door.
“When?”
“Yesterday.” She still looked tired, but her cheeks were flushed with pink. Her hair had been washed.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “He sober?”