“Yeah, well, it’s because your asshole brother didn’t buy any costumes larger thananXXL.”
“How would I know you needed extra X’s?” Keith defendedhimself.
“Um… by looking at me.” Lassen somehow made himself appear even larger as he loomed over Keith with a snarl onhisface.
In an attempt to tame the beast, I laid my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry what anyone else thinks. I think it fits you like a glove. An O.J. Simpson glove, but still aglove.”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” hegrumbled.
After helpingCasey’s brothers find the perfect costumes – the Hulk for Luke and Ironman for Miles – the group of us spent the evening playing arcade games and sipping on virgin cocktails, a.k.a fruit punch. It was probably the most fun I’d had at a party since I was… well, a kid. Turns out, laughter was what I needed to settle my rattled nerves. Keith had found a way to send me off into the adult world in the most juvenile of ways… and I’d expected nothing lessofhim.
My father, dressed as Thor, pulled me off the foosball table after another crushing loss to my drummer, Chet. We’d gone three in a row, and there was no beating the guy. I thought I was quick with my hands, but he was at a whole other level of hand-eyecoordination.
“That was just embarrassing,” Dad said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You need to know when to concededefeat.”
“Says the guy who cheats ateveryboardgame.”
“Only because when you kids were little, you would punch, scream, and pout over who the winner was. But, you see, if I won every time, no fighting. It was genius,really.”
“So then why are you stillwinning?”
“Tonight’s not about me, Jake.” He expertly deflected the question. “Let’s talkaboutyou.”
“No, thanks,” I scoffed. “That’s one subject you know I hate talkingabout.”
“Well, then, this will be a shortconversation.”
“Very.” I nodded. “Where’s yourhammer,Thor?”
“Kyle took it. Said something about playing whack-a-mole withQuinn’shead.”
“Oh, that’s…” I stopped to ponder the vision of that in my mind. “Disturbing.”
My father didn’t seem the least bit concerned about his youngest son, although that probably had something to do with the fact that Thor’s hammer was made of flimsyplastic.
“Where’syourcostume?” heasked.
“Keith granted me anexemption.”
“Makessense.”
“Why’sthat?”
“Because you’re alreadyahero.”
I bristled at his words. “I really hate when you say shitlikethat.”
“Why?It’strue.”
My father always gave me way more credit than I deserved. I didn’t have superpowers or a desire to protect the world from ruin. Really, all I’d done for humankind was save my sorry ass. “In whoseworld?”
“In a lot of people’s worlds…” He stopped talking for a moment, struggling to control the unexpected emotion breaking up his words. “…butmostlymine.”
I shifted in place, uncomfortable with my father’s sudden sentiment. “Where did that come from?” Iasked.
“I have no idea. I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgictoday.”
“Or maybe you’re just getting weepy with old age.” I spoke with bravado, but truth be told, I’d also been walking a very thin emotional linetoday.
