“Again, son, it wasn’t anything wrong with you. It’s that I didn’t have my head in the right spot. I need you to hear me: this was not your fault. I need you to know that you are not… What was it that you said? You are not the destroyer of love. You are the result of love. You are love personified.”
I was surprised at the emotion in my father’s voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought of myself in that way.”
“Start,” Mom said, arching her brow. “Start now. Take care of yourself, believe in yourself, and know that you are so loved. Not just by us”—she gestured between the two of them—“but everybody in your life. Those Lost Boys? You’re at the center of their world. They’d do anything for you. Look at what Sawyer is doing. The way he keeps in touch with us, that he thought to get your guitar, the way—” She stopped, shaking her head.
“What? The way he what?”
“The way he cares for you, Hendrix. You should look into that.”
“Shh, Hen,” Sawyer said. “Sit still and eat your eggs.”
I snorted. “It’s his thing. He quietly takes care of all of us in his own Sawyer way.”
“Sure,” my father said, nodding as if he’d come to a conclusion. “But he’s not equally concerned about all of his friends. Honestly, it’s always been that way with him.”
He had a point, though I doubted he wanted to know the exact ways in which Sawyer was taking care of me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad.”
“Do what your mom says, though,” he insisted. “Think about it.”
“Okay.”
With that, he kissed my mom’s temple, and I gagged again, like I used to as a kid.
“Oh, really? That’s your reaction to a little affection?” Dad asked, his eyes flashing with something deeper than just love. “Then you’re really not going to like this.” He pulled Mom close and planted a kiss on her lips. The kissing went on for longer than I was comfortable with, but something about it stitched together part of my heart that I hadn’t realized had been torn in two.
“Brunch is ready,” Uncle Preston called out, carrying a tray of mimosas.
A few moments later, Ozzie and Walker appeared at the tree line, brushing leaves off each other.
“There’s plenty time for hanky-panky,” Aunt Kiyana called out, “but now is the time for eating. And for celebrating, I think,” she said, looking between my parents with a big grin on her face.
Mom and Aunt Kiyana had always been close, even after Mom and Dad divorced, and I wondered how many late-night chats they’d had when my parents had started getting back together. As I watched the happy couples gather around the table, years’ worth of guilt and shame started to dissolve, and I could picture the wall around my heart wobbling like a Jenga tower, tipping, then crumbling altogether. For the first time, I thought about love and it didn’t hurt. Not one bit.
After brunch, we all sat back, stuffed.
“I bet this was better than the food at the restaurant,” Kiyana said, grinning.
“Mama, those are your recipes. It’s exactly as good. You’re the one… Never mind. I’m not going to get into this argument with you. Of course your dishes are better,” Ozzie said good-naturedly.
“That’s all I’m saying.” Her grin was infectious.
As we laughed, Ozzie pondered me, scratching his chin.What’s up, I mouthed, and he gestured for me to join him.
“Please don’t make me walk through the same woods where you defiled poor Walker,” I cracked.
“No, we’ll go another way,” he said, not bothering to contradict me. “I just wanted to chat with you.”
“Of course, cousin.”
We walked side by side down the path opposite the one he and Walker had taken, and something about it felt familiar. Like when we used to walk to and from school together.
“How are things going?” he asked.
As many times as I’d been asked that question, I felt like every person got a different answer from me. “My head is still in a spin about my parents.”
“Do you not want them to be back together?”
