“Your brother and the person he’s seeing,” my dad jokes.
“I knew you were seeing someone,” Ford interjects.
Where Evan looks like James with his blond hair and bright brown eyes that are full of joy, Ford looks like me with brown hair and hazel eyes—only he’s a lot cockier than I was at his age. And then there’s Malcolm, who’s a solid mix of all of us with his dark blond hair and gray eyes, making him the epitome of the middle child.
“What gave that away?” Evan asks, jumping on the counter next to Dad.
“Hiding his phone was the number one giveaway,” Ford begins, holding a finger up, “not being present at family dinners was another, and always vetoing us from coming over to his place.”
“Maybe I have a lot on my mind and I don’t want youmaking my place a mess,” I counter because it’s true that anytime either of my brothers comes over to my place, they leave it in worse shape than when they got there.
My brothers and dad look at me like I’m lying through my teeth—which I am, but I feel like mine and Angie’s time is quickly running out.
“That’s not it, but we’ll let it pass for now. Let’s eat,” my dad chants and heads upstairs to get Mom.
Ford gets the plates out and we all settle around the table. Conversation luckily moves on to other things that don’t revolve around my relationship. Ford is a junior in high school and lets us know that, even though he still has time to make up his mind, he’s decided to go the culinary route instead of college for a formal education. Evan, on the other hand, is in his second year of college at PhilU, getting his undergrad in education with a focus on science. Mom is thrilled that one of her sons is following in her footsteps. She was on and off teaching when she had us, but once Ford was mobile, she decided to go back. Besides Dad and us, teaching is her other true love.
Later that evening, while we’re all in the living room, apart from Evan, the doorbell rings, and Mom insists on answering the door. I try to zone in on what Malcolm and Ford are bickering about that leads to a quick wrestling match, which Ford is very underprepared for, with Malcolm’s size and weight being at his advantage.
Malcolm is doing a victory dance when we hear, “Boys!” shouted from the threshold of the living room. Our heads snap to where Mom is standing and it’s like seeing a ghost. With her arm around Evans' shoulders is Emily.
“Whoa,” I hear from behind me and a blur of my younger brother dressed in his blue sweatpants and gray firefighter T-shirt jumps over the couch and bear hugs her.I’ll never know how deep Emily’s bond runs with my younger brothers, as I missed a good chunk of time while at school. But seeing her and Malcolm embrace makes me wonder if she’s seen a side to him that I’ve simply missed.
“So you’re just home for Thanksgiving?” I hear Mom ask later on when I come back into the living room with a glass of white wine for Emily and take a seat in the corner of the couch next to her.
She looks healthy. Those days after James passed, on the occasion that we would see her after the funeral, she looked like a ghost. But I assume that losing your fiance´e months before your wedding and having to endure the countless number of phone calls to cancel said wedding had to have been more taxing on a person than just dealing with his loss. I remember vowing to never fall in love because the potential to deal with a loss like that was something I never wanted to go through. Now look at me—falling without a parachute, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I come back into the conversation when Malcolm says, “Brandon is dating someone, but he won’t tell us who it is.”
I throw invisible daggers at my brother, who expertly avoids looking my way, if the twitch in his jaw is any indication that he knows I’m glaring at him.
“Do I know her?” Emily asks softly from beside me.
I clear my throat before looking at her. “Maybe.”
She and I hold each other's stare until something passes over her with a silent promise to get the answer from me. I relax back into the couch and let conversation flow around me. By the time Emily realizes it’s time for her to go. It takes much longer to gather us for a picture before I walk Emily to the door.
“So, who is she?” she asks when we’re in the foyer, and I hold a finger to my lips to keep her quiet and look towardthe living room to make sure that none of them are listening. Emily’s joy is palpable when she says, “I do know her!”
I zip up my jacket and hold the door open for her.
Only when we’re at the end of the driveway does Emily let go. “Tell me. The anticipation is killing me.”
“It’s Angie,” I tell her.
I watch as she goes through a mental list of people we may mutually know. But her forehead scrunches and she asks, “Who?”
“Angie. Well, Angela, to the people that know her,” I tell her unblinkingly.
It’s like a lightbulb going off when a student gets the answer right in class. That’s what Emily’s face looks like when she figures out who I’m talking about.
“Shut up!” she gasps and shoves me in the shoulder. “Liam’s sister? Wow. Has your Dad even spoken to Mr. Taylor since the accident?”
I shake my head. “I know. It just happened. And no, my dad hasn’t talked to Mr. Taylor since the accident.”
Emily has the most bewildered look on her face, like even she can’t believe that Angie and I are together. “Wait, how old is she? And how long have you two been seeing each other?”
“She’s twenty-one. And for about six months, give or take.”
