“Soup is one of Noah’s favorite meals,” he explains. “Audrey just throws stuff together sometimes. If it looks like soup, he’s going to eat it.”
“Not a picky eater, then?” I ask.
“Oh, he is.” He chuckles. “In the way that he’s particular about his food. He needs sauce oneverything. And apparently broth is enough like sauce. Gravy is sauce. Ketchup. Salad dressing… stuff like that.” Miles puts the bowl on the table, then calls for Noah. “We can go after he eats.”
Noah hurries in, still in full uniform.
“You’re going to eat with that on?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says happily, hopping onto his seat and picking up the spoon.
Noah eats while Miles gathers everything he needs for our walk through the neighborhood. I insist on cleaning up the small mess in the kitchen so I’m not standing around doing nothing. Miles, of course, argues, but in the end I win… seems I win a lot with him. I don’t hate that.
The kitchen is the same layout as Miles’. The same white and light-blue floral linoleum flooring, white walls, and brown trim. The sink, cabinets, and stove are the same style. The fridge is different, though. The one down here is a side-by-side two-door, while Miles’ has a pull-out freezer on the bottom. Their table is the same, but a different shade. I don’t know if they did that on purpose, but something tells me they did. They’re close and they do everything together. I don’t even know what color the outside of my brother’s house is.
The sun is down, and the street is packed with kids and families enjoying their holiday. I’ve never experienced Halloween like this before, and now I see why people love it so much. The energy is buzzing as kids dressed as witches, cops, cowboys, and so much more carry their buckets spilling over with candy. There are even big blow-up costumes of dinosaurs, and I saw one that was a claw machine. I wonder if it works. Parents watch happily, enjoying their kid’s excitement.
At the firehouse, kids stop by for candy, but not many. Usually, it’s parents of smaller kids who don’t want to worry about losing their kids in the chaos of the neighborhood streets, so they choose the firehouse and whatever stores are offering candy.
As I watch Miles with Noah, I can’t help the sadness that creeps up over the feeling of missing out. Not only on this, but on a lot of family things… I’d fully intended on having kids by now—of doing all the fun holiday things with them. I know that doesn’t fit my personality, but it’s what I want. I want kids of my own to love and take care of… and be a good dad to. Because I know I can be a good dad.
Noah runs up the path to the house, joining the handful of kids already there. Miles and I wait by the mailbox with the other parents who are letting their kids be independent.
“So, my brother is moving,” I say out of nowhere.
Miles makes me want to talk about things, and I still can’t figure out how I feel about it.
Though, I do feel a little lighter for letting it out. I guess it’s bothering me more than I thought it was.
“Is he going back to California?”
“New York.
“For what?”
“A job.”
“When does he leave?”
“I don’t know. I… didn’t ask.”
I think about the unreturned phone call. After processing what he said, I realized that I don’t know when he’s moving. Is it a week? A month? Six? Is he already gone? He still hasn’t called me back, and it’s starting to make me anxious.
Something flashes across Miles’ face for a split second. Judgement over me not knowing when my brother is leaving, I’m sure. He doesn’t say anything about it though.
“New York is rough.”
“That’s what I hear.” I shove my hands into my pockets as I watch the older woman standing in doorway, passing out candy to the kids. She has a witch hat on that keeps sliding forward when she bends to put candy in the kids’ buckets.
“He said he needs a change. I guess I get that.”
“Are you planning on moving?” he asks, and I swear there is a bit of panic in his tone.
“No, nothing like that. Just… life. I guess. I don’t know.”
Miles puts his hand on my forearm, his eyes meeting mine. “I understand that. I’m at the age where I want to settle down yet feel so young that it’s also scary to commit. Is that how you feel?”
He’s so vulnerable… all the time. So open and vulnerable, and here I am lying to him. Hiding things from him. Not just about me personally, but about my life.
