“It looks like you are,” I butted in or else I’d never get to speak.
Dad scowled at me.
“Oh, you aren’t? Then why am I staying home from work? Of all the nonsense. And the way you got hurt, too. I still can’t understand what you were thinking.” She took her reading glasses off and waved them around in his direction, which was about as threatening as she ever got.
“That was your choice!” Dad sort of tapped his crutches on the floor, like he wanted to stomp, and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing.
A red Kia Sorento pulled into the driveway behind the white BMW Ruslan had rented. My brother Franc hopped out. He was taller than Dad and about as big around as me, and he sort of resembled a walking scarecrow because his clothes were always about two sizes too big so they would be long enough to fit his frame. He came bounding over and almost shoved Ruslan out of the way to give me a warm hug.
“I was trying to beat you here!”
“Why did no one tell me Dad was on crutches?”
Mom stuck her nose out into the cold. “Brrr. We didn’t want to worry you.”
Dad shuffled out of the doorway farther into the living room. “I didn’t care if you knew or not, but they told me not to bother you.”
One red and one black Ford truck pulled into the driveway, and my heart both soared and clenched at the same time. I loved my family, but we were a lot when we were all together. My other two brothers got out of their vehicles and came toward the front porch with wide grins slapped on their faces. Michael was taller than Ruslan with a beer gut he wasn’t ashamed of, and Rod was shorter than me and the only other brunet in the family.
Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. “You’re letting the heat out!”
“You say that as if you didn’t just stand there and have a whole conversation.”
Ruslan and my brothers followed us inside, and Mom giggled. We all stopped to take off our boots, and I was bent over untying the laces when Mom pointed at Ruslan.
“Who is this, sweetie?”
I stood up and let my hands flop to my sides. “I told you I was bringing home my boyfriend, Mom.”
Rod jostled around to stand in front of Ruslan, staring like he’d never seen anyone outside of the family. “Your what?”
Michael sighed and edged around us to go into the living room and flop on the green couch with gold pillows. “His boyfriend.”
“Yeah.” Franc ruffled Rod’s hair. “His boyfriend, dweebus.”
Rod stared around with his brow furrowed. “No one told me you were gay.”
I flicked him on the forehead. “It’s not my fault you don’t pay any attention to things that don’t involve football. This is Ruslan.”
Dad eased down onto the recliner. “That’s a strange name.”
“Dad!” I glared at him and every fiber of my being wished I could set him on fire with my mind.
“What, it is! It’s not David or John. It’s different. Strange.”
Mom walked over and whapped his arm, then smiled at me and Ruslan. “Don’t mind your father.” She whispered, “He’s been extra grouchy lately.”
Franc went over and gave Mom a hug. “Dad’s an asshole. That’s really what she means. But we love him.”
“Francis!”
Franc shuffled away to the other recliner and collapsed onto it. “What? It’s true!”
Dad howled with laughter, my brothers cackled like the gremlins they were, and Mom glared at everyone, even me, and I hadn’t even done anything.
Mom clasped her hands in front of herself and smiled at Ruslan. “I think it’s a nice name.”
“Me too,” I snapped.
