Page 61 of False Start

She's been a little colder than usual,—not making eye contact and treating me more like a distant cousin than a new brother—but nothing drastic. She's probably trying to avoid any drama. A big blowout on Thanksgiving is so cliché.

"That explains why the narc stayed back at the house," Damon says. Henry's not that kind of lawyer, and weed's been legal in the city for a while now, but he still prefers to steer clear. Except those couple years in undergrad that he thinks none of us know about…

"Why not be both? Fresh airanda little greenery." Noah says with a sly grin.

"True, true," Damon snickers. "So where's Maya, then?"

"Does she partake?" Noah asks Adam with a lift of his eyebrow. I'm curious, too, though I'm certainly glad she's not out here with us right now. Adam smirks.

"She's not a pothead like this one," Adam jokes, playfully bumping my shoulder with his, "but, every now and then, she'll take an edible and bake a batch of cookies or something. And after…"

He lets the sentence drop, grinning to himself. Looks like baby bro has discovered the joys of high sex.

"Anyway," he continues, "she wanted to stay behind and help Mom with the dishes."

Damon moans.

"Aw, man. First the pie, now helping with the dishes? Pretty soon, she'll be Mom's favorite!" he whines. Ever the middle child, Damon is oblivious.

"It's not likeyouhad any chance, bro," Noah teases. Damon grumbles something under his breath.

"C'mon, guys. Mom and Dad don't have favorites," Adam says, and both Noah and I stifle a laugh.

"Spoken like someone who knows he's Mom's favorite," I respond. Adam's smile turns smug before he can hide it.

"Whatever," he says, and Noah laughs out loud this time.

On a holiday, and given the snow from three days ago that's still piled high on some portions of the trail, the park is practically deserted. There's an elderly gentleman walking his dog across the way, and another group of maybe siblings?—two sisters and a brother—pass while talking animatedly. From the smell of it, they too are taking the proverbial post-Thanksgiving "walk around the block".

I lead us around the track in the other direction of the group and pull the joint from my jacket. After three tries to light it,—fuck this wind—I take a long, deep pull. The smoke fills my lungs, and the familiar euphoria comes over my body. Not strong enough to numb the pain, but enough to dull it. To push it to the back burner and laugh for a while with my brothers. At leastthey'llnever leave me.

But is that even true, with Adam married and Henry not far behind? They're bound to have kids, to move away. Next year, Adam might spend Thanksgiving with Maya's family. Henry and Camila might celebrate in Westchester. Damon might not make it home next year; after all, they don't have Thanksgiving in Europe. And Noah's already missed a few Thanksgivings to chase after A-list clients.

Then it'll just be me, Mom, and Dad around the dinner table while everyone else moves on with their lives. God, how depressing is it that?

I take another pull from the joint before passing it to Noah. He takes a hit, then doubles over.

"Damnit, Cory! This shit is too strong!" Noah complains between coughs. "What are you trying to do? Have an out-of-body experience?"

Adam and Damon laugh while I pat Noah on the back. He shoves the offending joint away and Adam takes it, still grinning. We walk in silence for a while. A bird squawks loudly in the distance and boisterous laughter comes from someone's open window.

"Hey," Adam says to Damon through a cloud of smoke, "did your season schedule change? I don't remember having your going away dinner this year."

Damon suddenly looks uncomfortable. Come to think of it, it's November. He's usually back overseas by October, at the latest. He comes home for the holidays, sure, but Adam's right. There wasn't a going away dinner.

"My schedule's a little different this year," Damon mutters, reaching for the joint. "Coach said they want to give the younger players more court time. They don't need me…until later in the season."

Adam nods, like Damon's explanation sounds reasonable, but something feels off. Damon's attitude has been so shitty lately, we started a text thread without him. Henry thinks he's just pissed to have to share Adam with Maya,—they are BFFs, after all—but my Spidey senses say that's not it.

"That's cool," Adam says after another puff. "And sorry I didn't notice sooner. Between the wedding, the honeymoon, and now looking for a new place, I've been a little preoccupied."

"Don't worry about it," Damon snaps before snatching the joint and stomping down the path at a much faster pace than the rest of us. Noah rolls his eyes.

"What are we gonna do about that guy? Does he need to get laid or something?"

"Hell if I know," Adam says with a shrug. "He only answers about half my calls these days."

"Do we need to, like, stage an intervention or something?" Noah asks hesitantly. "I can't deal withtwobrothers acting like assholes," he says, looking at me meaningfully. I flip him the bird and kick a stray pinecone off the path.

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