“I just have this headache. God, it’s like when I was hung over last weekend. I’m so not looking forward to this.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I say. “And Scott, you really don’t have to come.”
That’s the first time I’ve said that this past week.
“What? No. I want to help you guys out however I can.”
“Mikey, how the hell are we gonna do all that work by ourselves?” Jordan asks. “You know I’m only going to do half as much as you, so you might as well not fight free labor.” He winks at Scott. “Just playin’, man. I seriously appreciate it, though. And Kate does, too. She wants to get this over with so that she can move on with her life.”
“I more than understand that.”
“Yeah. And then we’re having dinner at Mom and Dad’s, which I know Mikey is excited about.”
I groan, and Jordan rolls his eyes. Such predictable responses for both of us.
“You can come on back here and just skip it if you want,” Jordan says.
“No. I want to be there. Someone has to protect the two of you from them.”
Scott glances between us uneasily. He can’t understand just how true my words are. I’ve always felt like I have to protect Jordan and Kate from how Mom and Dad are. I know I can’t really. But even when I was younger, I felt like I couldn’t abandon them, like they needed someone in their life who could remind them that life was going to get better than the world that we saw in Mom and Dad’s house.
I took on a lot, and I think it’s partly responsible for the resentment that I feel toward our parents.
***
Kate hugs Scott with one arm since she has Roger in a carrier strapped across her chest. “So good seeing you again,” she says.
Despite the smile on her face, I can see the sadness in her eyes, the disappointment that she has to see him under these circumstances.
We stand at the rear of the moving truck I backed into the driveway.
Kate and Lyle’s two-story home looks like something off of the cover of a magazine. Light-blue paint on the siding. Black shutters. Lush grass covers the lawn leading up to a small bed of rose bushes that grow beside the brick front porch. I remember how excited she was about their new home when she sent me pictures of it on Facebook, talking about how eager she was to close on the place. She would take pictures of magazine photos she liked and email them to me, and chat with me on Facebook about ideas she had for the renovations.
It’s hard to think about how happy she was and then how her dreams have been crushed because of that asshole Lyle. I’m just glad he’s not going to be here so I don’t have to beat the shit out of him on her behalf.
“I appreciate you guys helping me with this,” she says. “You really didn’t have to, though. I told you I could hire movers.”
I unhook the latch at the bottom of the back door on the truck and pull it open. “Whatever, Kate. We’re family. This is what we do.”
“I mean, it wouldn’t have killed us to have hired movers,” Jordan says with a cheeky grin.
I shove against his shoulder.
“Ooh. You wanna wrestle like the good old days, big bro? Come on. You remember when I fucking pinned you when we were younger.”
“Jordan! Language!” Kate scolds.
I smile. “I let you win that time.”
Jordan’s eyes narrow. “You never would have let me win.”
I turn to Scott. “Okay, maybe I didn’t let him win.”
Even though I totally did, I don’t see a reason to brag about it. It’s pretty clear by our stature who won that wrestling match.
“I have to wait for the sitter to arrive and then I’ll get in there and help you guys,” Kate says.
Jordan grabs the bill of his Braves cap and spins it around. “We got this, kiddo. Just let the men handle it.”
