I look away before I can notice the sadness in his eyes.
Now
Will’s knee bounces the entire drive home, a constant restless movement that I’m all too aware of. Neither of us speak, letting the silence exist between us.
It’s going to be fine.
It’s not like before. He’s sober now.
I unlock the front door and push it open, calling out to the kids, “I’m home!”
Ollie appears at the end of the hallway, sliding on the hardwood in his socks, catching himself against the wall. “Daddy!” He launches himself at me, and I catch him, barely. He’s getting big, and I’m getting old. “You’re late!”
“I know, bud. I’m sorry. Appointment ran long.”
Ollie doesn’t seem too upset, losing interest quickly as his eyes slide behind me to where Will is standing like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.
“Who’s that?” Ollie asks, staring him down.
“That’s Mom’s brother. Uncle Will.”
He tilts his head, studying him. “The one from the pictures at grandma and grandpa’s?”
Before anyone can say anything else, there’s a noise from upstairs and footsteps pounding down the carpeted stairs before Addie appears, Emmett trailing behind her.
She crosses the rest of the house in a few steps, a flash of pink, and throws her arms around him before he’s fully braced for it, but Will catches her anyway, the same way he caught her at eight years old. “Oh my God,” she says into his shoulder. “You’re actually here!”
“Addie,” he says, hugging her back with his eyes closed, his arms tight around her.
She pulls back to look at him, hands on his shoulders, scanning his face. “You look different,” she announces. “Old.”
He scoffs, reaching out to tug a strand of pink hair. “You’re one to talk.”
Her smile is bright before she remembers her friend behind her. She takes a step back, turning to pull Emmett forward by the hand. “You remember Emmett? I think you guys met back when we were kids.”
“Hey,” Emmett says, the discomfort of meeting someone he used to know pre-transition clear on his face, but Will nods, easy as anything.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
His shoulders drop at the greeting, and not for the first time, I hate that he has to worry so much. He’s a good kid. Deserves to be himself without having to worry about how people feel about it.
“I’ll go get dinner started. Go easy on your uncle,” I tell the kids, setting Ollie down, shooting a look Addie’s way, but from her expression, that won’t be happening.
And from the kitchen, I can hear her already.
“What was jail like?” she asks, and I close my eyes, wondering who taught my daughter manners.
“Addie,” Emmett says, already exasperated, and I don’t blame him.
“What? You know you’re curious.”
I open the fridge and take inventory, hoping that something edible will magically appear. There’s some sandwich meat I bought three weeks ago that needs to be thrown out. Some leftovers I don’t remember making. Ollie’s apple juice and a single can of Dr. Pepper.
“Were any of the guards cute?”
“Oh my God,” Emmett says.
“What’s jail?” Ollie asks in a quiet voice, still unsure about his new family member.
