That awareness felt like a punch to my solar plexus, and for a second, I worried the pain would squeeze my heart until it gave up the ghost, but at least this time, crossing the threshold into the house I grew up in didn’t even register.But once it did, I realized that it was just a house.The fears and memories that had painted this place in darkness were just that: fears and memories in my head.
I could choose to let them take up space, to grow darker and dominate the first chance I had to get to know Stu and color our future memories, or not.
Today, in the moment, I chose… not.
“Dixon.”My brother turned and leaned against the kitchen counter as Stu reached for a ball of cream cheese in a clear plastic bowl on the island.It looked like it might have bits of ham in it and tiny, round green onion slices.“Here.”Bax snagged the bowl out of Stu’s reach and used a butter knife to scoop a chunk of the cheeseball onto a paper plate, then dumped a handful of crackers next to it and handed it to Stu.
Stu’s eyes flared.He plopped the plate down on the kitchen table in the corner and hummed his anticipation as he dug a cracker into the cheese and shoveled a huge bite into his mouth.
“Looks like he’s not a picky eater,” I said because nothing else was coming to mind.The awkwardness between Bax and me could probably be felt in Idaho, like some ambiguous shifting of a tectonic plate.
“Kid eats every dang thing he sees,” Bax said, smiling at Stu, but then he cleared his throat and looked away.“Merv will be here soon.Bea’s upstairs with Athena.They’ll be down in a minute.Roxi has to work tonight so Abey can have it off, but Brand’s on his way.”
“Cool.”
With a mouthful of cream cheese and crumbling butter crackers, Stu asked, “What’s for dinner, Daddy?”
Bax looked at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction to hearing my kid call my brother “Daddy,” but I worked hard not to react.
“Burgers.I’ve got the grill heatin’ up out back.”
“Did you remember to get pickles at the store?”
“Sure did.The sweet ones you like.”
Stu pumped his fist in the air and shoved more cheeseball in his mouth.“Yes!”
Bax chuckled.“Pretty easy to please him since he’s so food motivated.”
I laughed, too, because his comment reminded me of Zephyr and Tilly when they were pups and how easy it had been to get them to do whatever I wanted if I had a piece of chicken in my hand.
When Stu had his fill of cheese and crackers, he pulled me to the living room to show me his collection of toy trucks and tractors.He had miniatures of Bax’s, Brand’s, and Abey’s trucks, and so many tractors that he had to use a huge plastic bin to house them when he wasn’t playing with them.
“I’m gonna run this place when I’m big,” he said, pushing a blue truck around the floor, “like my daddy.Do you work on a ranch too?How come you don’t work here?Uncle Brand works here.How come I didn’t know you before?Did you like fishin’ when you were little like me?”
As I sat on the floor and crisscrossed my legs, I couldn’t see him, but I felt Bax monitoring our conversation from the kitchen.
“I lived in California.Do you know where that is?”
Living was the wrong way to describe what I’d been doing all those years, but it was the easiest explanation for a five-year-old.
Stu shook his head, makingvroom vroomsounds as his truck climbed the side of the couch.
“It’s kind of far away, and then I lived in Alaska.”
“Oh, I know Alaska.That’s where the ice road truckers live.”
“Do they?”
“Yeah, haven’t you ever seen that show?”
“No.”
“It’s really good.Aunt Roxi and Aunt Devo like it.We watch it together.”
“That’s nice.Sounds like you have a pretty cool family.”
He nodded and traded out his blue truck for a white one.“Where else did you live?”
