Paige surfaces around noon, which on a Sunday for a teenager is the crack of dawn, and parks herself on the free stool in my basement studio with her laptop open. I take the pencil out of my mouth and set it on the notepad that I’ve scribbled all over the past two hours.
“The clip from Thursday hit a hundred thousand,” she says, not looking up. “The one where you got choked up about the soldier. I keep telling you, Dad. They want you wrecked.”
“Comforting, coming from my own child.” If I was near the drum kit, I would’ve given myself a ba dum tss. Instead, I strum a happy jingle.
Paige looks up and glares. “I’m monetizing your feelings. You’re welcome.” She flips the laptop around to show me a number I don’t fully understand and don’t let on that I don’t.
“Monetizing?”
She nods. “The apps are now paying you.”
“I don’t want it,” I tell her. “Make sure it gets donated somewhere.”
“On it.”
She heads back upstairs, leaving me with the mess of words on the sheet of paper that don’t make sense. Eventually, the words will come together, but until then, I close my notebook and put my guitar away.
My mother letsherself in a little after one with a pie in her hands she didn’t need to bring. Seeing her walk through my house always gives me pause. There was a time, when I couldn’t even speak to her. When I hated her.
Bianca got sober while I was away, after a lifetime of being a ghost in her own house. Since, we were able to mend our relationship and since, she has done everything she can to make sure we have the best one. She stepped up when it came to Noah and Paige but really pulled out all the stops for the triplets. Noah tells me my mom goes over there every day to help Talisa and Peyton, so Peyton can have a break.
She kisses my cheek on her way past and tells me I look tired, which isn’t far from the truth. Then she and Josie disappear into the kitchen together where I’m not needed or wanted until it’s time to put meat on the grill.
At two, the front door opens and Stevie Nicks bursts through the house to greet us before Noah and Peyton can get the babies in the door. Paige drops to the floor and welcomes all the dog kisses while giving the giant Irish wolfhound all the ear scratches. Stevie Nicks then moves on to me, my mom, and finally the object of her affection, her grandmaw. Those two have a bond which is cute to see.
Me, I go to the babies. I know they like me. Well, they at least pretend to. All three are on top of the table, still in their carriers. I hug Peyton, slap my son on his shoulder, and take Juniper out of her carrier. I’m holding her for barely seconds when she extends her arms over my shoulder. I turn and see my mom walking toward us.
“Come on,” I say as I hand Junie off to my mom.
“Great grammy loves her little Juniper,” my mom says as she makes baby sounds that Juniper seems to understand.
“Fine.” I look at the boys, seeing if I can tell them apart. I really can’t and that’s an issue.
“Hand me one,” I tell Noah.
“Take Mav, he’s in a mood.”
Clearly, by saying “hand me one” I was hoping Noah would literally hand me one. He watches me stand there and laughs and finally puts me out of my misery by pointing at Maverick.
I get Maverick unclipped and up onto my shoulder. He grabs a fistful of my collar and shoves the other fist in his mouth and leans his whole weight into me. I missed every version of this with his father. I’m not going to miss one with him, his brother or sister.
The next couple of hours are loud. Junie decides she’s against sitting in a highchair. Jace gets handed to Josie, who walks him in slow circles and talks to him about the wedding flowers like he’s the groom. Noah takes Maverick back when Mav decides Grandpa’s collar has given all it’s going to give. I watch my son look at his son and promise that everything will be okay. Noah’s patient, kind. He got that from somewhere. Not from me. From his mother. From Katelyn, Mason, and Nick.
Stevie Nicks parks herself near Peyton and Junie, who takes food from Peyton’s plate and drops it on the floor for the dog.
“She’s teaching the baby to litter,” Peyton says, scrubbing something orange off Junie’s chin.
“Or Junie is teaching Stevie to beg.”
“You used to feed Cat,” Josie points out, “and that cat hated you.”
“The cat respected me.”
“The cat tolerated you. There’s a difference, and the cat knew it.”
Noah laughs, Maverick laughs because his dad did, and for a second the whole kitchen’s going at once—my wife and my son and my daughter and three babies. All people I love, and a dog committing crimes under the table. I came home for a funeral and stayed for this. Most days I can’t believe they let me.
TWELVE
