I wasn’t that son. I was broken. Wrong. But there was no way I would ever show them the broken pieces, not ever again.
Wiping the tears away, I steeled myself as I got ready to leave my car. Daddio, as he liked to be called, insisted on us eating together every Thursday. So here I was, getting the tears out of the way before seeing my dads. I’d missed them this past week. Something had changed for the better, butthen almost just as quickly, it was like my world had gotten even worse. Like something good had come and just before I’d found it, it disappeared again, reminding me how broken my world truly was.
Sighing, I knocked on the door, refusing to let myself in like they wanted. I didn’t live with them anymore, no matter how much they begged for me to return. I rented a small apartment with my friend Annie and that was perfect for me. She never mentioned my nightmares, or gave me pitying looks each morning because of them. She wasn’t broken like I was, but she knew when to back off, something my dads never excelled at, not that I minded how much they cared for me. And they did, ever since they adopted me, I was their world. The only survivor of a house fire. At least, that was what the foster home had been told by the hospital. I’d spent a few months in a coma according to them, losing my mother, father, and twin brother to the flames.
Were my nightmares because of the night I’d lost my family? Absolutely, but then why was there always a man haunting me? Never once had I dreamed of fire.
My heart would never heal from the loss of my twin, I knew that much. We’d shared more than a womb; I researched as much. Twins had been my obsession from the day my dads told me how I’d ended up in the foster home, something I wasn’t told before I was adopted for fear it would make me remember the root of my trauma. Fun times. Nothing like making two new dads tell their adoptive son how his whole family died in a house fire,and oh, by the way, you had a twin who died, too. Because it was that loss that had hurt me the most.
The door flew open and there was my dad, beaming brightly at me. “Aiden, my favorite boy! Hope you’re hungry.” He stepped aside, gesturing for me to come in with an over-the-top flourish of his hands. I chuckled, unable to stop myself. I loved that man.
Daddio’s voice called out from the back garden. “Did you tell him I’m making ribs?!”
Dad looked at me with a deadpan expression. “He’s making ribs.”
I snickered, hugging dad hello before we ventured toward Daddio. Maybe I should be tired of eating ribs, considering it was what we ate each Thursday, but it was my favorite Daddio meal, and ever since I admitted as much, Daddio had made it his life’s mission to create all the different recipes he could find so we could, in his words, find the very best one. Last week it was honeyed, glazed ribs, which had been amazing. I wondered what he’d made for us today, and not just for the ribs, he tended to get creative with the side dishes, too, much to Dad’s and my pleasure.
“Aiden!” Daddio greeted me, handing Dad the tongs as he pulled me into a bear hug. Daddio was the biggest of them, a true bear as Dad liked to call him. Dad was an accountant and Daddio worked in construction, two very different professions, and personalities, but together they just fit.
“Sit and tell us about your new job,” Dad said, even if it kind of felt like an order. I knew they wanted to know every little detail, but there really wasn’t much to tell.
“I like it,” I offered, knowing they would pry the rest out of me before I’d left for the evening.
“Any cute coworkers?” Daddio began, nudging my side playfully.
I always felt guilty when they asked, the lies I’d told them were simply so they would stop worrying. But I never dated, never had,never would. I just wasn’t into people, simple as that, but anything else that differed from what seemed “normal” scared me, so I’d lied over the years and told them of girlfriends I’d had. Small dates here and there to satisfy their worry for me. They’d even thought Annie was my girlfriend for a bit, until Dad had seen her holding hands with her girlfriend at the park.
“No cute coworkers,” I replied, having decided to no longer lie about my dating life. Not that I planned on telling them of my past lies, they would remain lies, but I figured if I stopped lying to them in the future it would be fine.I hoped.
“That sucks,” Daddio muttered, walking back to check on his precious ribs.
Dad nudged me with his arm. “You doing okay, son? You know you can tell us anything.”
And I did know, but that didn’t mean I wanted to bother them with more of my issues. I faked a smile. “Just tired from starting the new job, nothing else.”
He hummed. “I never saw you working with the elderly.”
I snorted, because neither did I, but the job was way more fun than I’d thought it would be. Who knew old people would have so many interestingstories to tell? At least that was all I was there for, entertainment. I was hired to be one they could talk to, confide in. Everyone needed a friend, and many elders didn’t have that, most of them didn’t even have families anymore. I enjoyed listening to their life stories and hearing about their lost loved ones. Somehow hearing what others had been through was healing for me in a way.
“I love it there,” I admitted, looking away from Dad’s all-seeing gaze and over the backyard instead. It was here I learned to kick a ball into a net. Oh, how devastated Daddio had been when I refused to do it after that one time. Sports was not my thing.
“I’m glad to hear that, son,” Dad said, patting my shoulder in a way that felt almost as good as a hug.
Daddio then came back with a small plate with a tiny portion of ribs for me, like always. “Taste test it for me. I need to know if it needs more time on the grill or not.”
It didn’t, but he loved making me his taste tester, something I’d done for him since I was a child. When I first moved into their home, I didn’t know what I liked or disliked eating, just eating to survive and not really tasting the food. It was Daddio who taught me to love food.
Gently picking up the steaming meat, I bit into it, tasting the mix of sweet and savory. I let out a moan of pleasure as the tender meat and juices mixed.
“That good, huh?” Dad laughed next to Daddio, hugging his side lovingly.
“So good,” I muttered, my mouth full of the delicious meat.
Daddio was beaming with pride. “I made lots! Also made this new watermelon salad that Jeanine told us we needed to try.”
Jeanine was their neighbor and Daddio’s biggest enabler when it came to cooking. She’d somehow talked him into buying a pizza oven once, and most recently an ice cream maker so he could make his own ice cream, a thing he never tended to eat in the first place because according to him, it wastoo coldto enjoy.
The rest of the night was lovely; it was easy to forget my aching heart when my dads filled each moment with so much love and attention. But as soon as I was back home in my small apartment, it all came crashing back.
