“You’re never trouble, Abby,” he says in a concerned tone. “You don’t even have to ask. You show up here anytime and there’s always a place for you.” He hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is everything okay? I mean obviously things aren’t okay, but did something happen?”
“No,” I croak, fighting back tears. “The house is just…it’s so quiet, and feels so big now, and I just don’t want to be alone for once.”
“Go get in your car, honey,” he coaxes. “And stay on the phone with me while you drive over.”
“Oh good, I was planning on doing that anyway,” I joke with a watery chuckle.
On the drive across town, I let him live commentate the golf tournament he’s watching in great detail. Spoiler alert–I do not care about golf. But it’s nice to not feel the pressure to keep a conversation going. My dad is content to monologue, and I feel lighter with every mile closer to my childhood home.
We don’t hang up until he opens the front door, pulling me into the kind of hug that only he can give. It’s warm, and full of so much care, and feels like a shelter from every awful thing, even if just for a moment.
Nate stands in the kitchen, fridge wide open as he hunts for a pre-dinner snack.
“Nathan Wheeler, don’t you dare ruin your appetite,” Dad scolds.
“He’s a bottomless pit, Daddy, you know that.”
At the sound of my voice, his head whips in my direction.
“Why are you here?”
“Hello my darling brother, it’s lovely to see you too.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, closing the fridge and crossing the room to give me a hug. “I just meant that I wasn’t expecting to see you. But I’m glad your weird ass has graced us with your presence.”
“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” Dad says, scolding him again. It feels like I’m nineteen again–when the worst thing that happened to me was an evil prank from Nate or a bad grade on an assignment. For a moment, I can almost forget that my husband is dead, and that I’m on the way to motherhood, and that I feel stranded on an island of grief and failure and uncertainty.
Almost.
I help my dad with dinner as Nate sits at the table, feet propped up without a care in the world, like the thought of doing anything helpful has never once crossed his mind.
“Can you at least set the table, you useless dweeb?” I ask, rolling my eyes at him. All he does is shoot me an unapologeticgrin, but he stands up to grab silverware and plates. He’s not going to earn any fine dining awards anytime soon, but at least we won’t be eating directly from the pan.
It’s nice being home again. I love my dad and brother dearly, but Aaron was my closest family. And since he died, I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to belong somewhere. The closest I’ve come are the moments I’ve spent with Jack, or Ellie and Griffin, but for tonight, I’m a Wheeler again and it feels good.
We eat, and laugh, and play card games late into the night, but when Dad yawns for the third time in ninety seconds, I make the executive decision that we should wrap it up and go to bed.
“The bed is already made up for you, so you don’t need to worry about that,” he says, following behind me into my childhood bedroom. “But I did ask your brother to do it, so you might check for anything unseemly before sliding into bed.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I say, kissing his cheek. “And thank you for tonight.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he says gruffly. “This is your home, too, no matter how much time you spend away.”
“I want to thank you though,” I reiterate firmly. “Tonight is the first time I’ve felt like just a normal person again in months. You have no idea how much that means to me. You’re the best dad in the whole world, and I love you one million.”
“I love you one million and one, kiddo,” he says, kissing my forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll make your favorite breakfast in the morning.”
“Chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries? You promise?”
“Cross my heart,” he chuckles. “Even if I have to go to the store at 6 a.m. to make it happen. Anything for my best girl.”
After thoroughly checking my bed and deciding that there are no booby traps, I slide in between the blankets and burrow my head into the pillow that’s been broken into the perfect shapeover two decades. After wishing me a final goodnight, Dad turns off the lights and closes the door softly.
The familiar sounds and smells of my room feel like a warm hug, and I drift off to the lullaby of the old A/C unit working overtime outside my window.
***
I wake to the buzzing of my phone reverberating through the pillow, and pull it out from underneath with a groan. It’s nearly two in the morning, but Ellie’s name is lighting up my screen.
