It messes with my equilibrium, this being genuinely happy that Anders found someone who loves him so deeply while still aching for the one man who has only ever pushed me away.
Anders pulls away from Omar and scoots forward to the edge of his seat. He leans in and snatches the photography book. “If you’re trying to respect his feelings, or whatever, fine. Pull up Grindr and get busy.”
I grab the book back. “It’s been months since I’ve used Grindr. Or any dating app, for that matter.”
Anders yanks the book out of my hands and sits on it. “So stop moping around like some sad sack. You’ve been in love with that man for years, he’s been in love with you for years. If it’s so damned impossible, then move on.”
I consider digging the book out from under my brother’s ass, but I’m one hundred percent certain he’d make me regret it. “Okay, fine. It’s been a minute since I’ve been out on a date.”
Anders looks at me like I might be a little stupid. “You understand I’m not talking about dating, right? I’m talking aboutfucking. Go andfucka whole bunch of people. If it makes him feel jealous and he starts coming around, great. If not, at least you’re getting fucked.”
I pick up my phone and stare at the app, shaking my head. “Tex, I love that all of your problems can be solved by a series of one-night stands.”
“Tex” is my family’s very Norwegian nickname for Anders. It means we think he’s crazy.
“It’s a skill,” he says, lifting a careless shoulder before going thoughtful. “Well, it at least solves the simple problems. I’m learning that being in a relationship requires more creative solutions, like communication or whatever.”
“Fine,” I say, punching a button. “I just took the account out of deep freeze.”
I take a few seconds to upload a selfie with my new haircut and shave, as well as changing a few of the particulars on my account, then shove it in my brother’s face. “Happy now?”
“Not until I get confirmation that you’ve been reintroduced to your prostate.”
Dad walks in just as Mom and Samuel come out from the kitchen with piping hot dishes, and I’m grateful for a break from talking or thinking about DeShaun. We join everyone around the table and it looks amazing. My father, beaming with pride, starts pouring the wine for everyone.
“Thank you, my sons. I would have never had this opportunity without you. That your mother and I could somehow participate in removing the foul elements from society…it is a privilege.” He turns the bottle around, and we all laugh and clap our hands at his new masterpiece. “Which is why I’ve called this blend Dead Bastard.”
“What’s in the alligator’s mouth?” I ask, grabbing the bottle to look at the colorful label more closely.
Anders takes the bottle from me. “It’s a femur,” he says, cracking up, which sets off the rest of us. We’ve seen so much as a family and weathered it all together, so this moment is strangely perfect.
Samuel looks down at the table, fiddling with his napkin. I elbow him. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re the son they always wanted.”
Omar and Anders were chasing down a serial killer in East Texas when they ran into Samuel at a rest stop, and he propositioned Anders. Later, when they went in on the location of the two guys killing sex workers, they found Sam strung up in the bathroom. He’d been beaten and his face sliced open, so Anders and Omar brought him to our parents, and he’s been a part of our family since.
“Yep, a hooker with a heart of gold. A real Hollywood blockbuster.”
Mom smacks his shoulder. “Don’t put yourself down like that. And now look at you—a cam boy with a heart of gold and a big OnlyFans following. Way safer and far more lucrative,” she chides with a prideful smile. Sam blushes as we all toast to cam boys and sip.
“Wow, Dad. This doesn’t suck as much as the last one,” Anders blurts.
“Darling, maybe try not to sound so surprised,” Omar says, smoothing over the comment. “I don’t drink very much, but this is quite delicious.”
Dad beams and Mom’s hand disappears under the tablecloth. Thankfully, my dad has enough decency to put her hand back in her lap. I’m definitely going back to Wimberley tonight. The acoustics in this house are not conducive to a good night’s sleep when my parents start going at it.
We finish dinner and go to the back deck area, where we have several Adirondack chairs set around a small open fire pit. Mom starts the fire while Dad grabs an additional bottle of his newest vintage. I get comfortable and look up into the bejeweled Texas sky, wishing for the ache in my heart to disappear. Anders walks out with his old guitar, and I groan. Understand, he’s an excellent guitar player. But if he’s got the guitar out, it means he wants me to accompany him.
“Anders, we already had Mom and Dad’s grope fest at the table. Do we really need to terrorize Samuel and Omar with our little variety show?”
Sam hits my shoulder. “Dude, self-expression is my jam. If you’ve got something to show us, I want to see it. Y’all are like my big brothers now…or something,” he says, smiling shyly. “Not that I’m trying to be presumptuous or anything.”
Over the last several months of visiting with my parents here at the vineyard and seeing how Sam has brought new life into our family dynamic, I rush to reassure him. “Not presumptuous at all. It’s how we view you too.”
“Yeah,” Anders pipes up. “You’re our annoying little brother, and we love you for it.”
“Thanks, I think?” he says with a grin.
Anders cuts off any remaining conversation by playing the familiar strum-thump of our favorite song to sing together. It’s so fucking cheesy, and I should be way more embarrassed, but it’s ourjam.
