Page 45 of Give & Take

“Doctor guy?” My stomach cramps.

“Yeah, when Chris came over this weekend she kept talking to Mom about this doctor guy who was really handsome, and like, rich or something? I think they didn’t like him.”

“But if he has kissing feelings for Mommy, maybe we should tell her?” Aurora says helpfully.

I grip the empty donut bag in my hand. “No!”

“Chris also said she knew someone else Mom could date,” Nova says.

Everything feels kind of spirally.

“What did your mom say?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

Nova shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe that she wants to try again?”

Wait, with Daniel? I feel sick.

“Mom wants to have kissing feelings about someone else?” Aurora asks, confused.

I stand up, rolling up the donut bag in my hands. I toss it in the bin next to the boardwalk.

“Did you change your mind about the donuts?” Aurora asks hopefully.

“Mom’s not the boss of you,” Nova reminds me.

I look down at her, a nihilistic kind of feeling slipping over me.

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re right.” She can go on dates. What do I care?Ican go on dates. We can all go on goddamned dates and have kissy feelings for everyone.

“We’re getting more donuts!” Nova exclaims, and Aurora’s face lights up so bright I can’t stand to do anything but let them tug me over to the concession once more.

Chapter 14

Raphael

My dad worked a lot. As in, he was rarely home. Still isn’t, with his second family. To this day, none of his kids see him much outside of holidays and big family events.

I honestly hardly know the guy, even though I’m at my brothers’ place at least once a week during the school year to check in on them.

“I don’t know where you came from,” my mom used to tell me when I was little, curled up on her lap as she launched my love of learning by reading me stories. Outside, the driveway would always be conspicuously empty, no matter how many times I lay there willing myself to stay awake long enough to see the sweep of headlights. But she’d kiss my head and say, “You couldn’t be more different than any of us. And we love you so much for it.”

I know now the ‘any of us’ specifically related to my dad. He was already slipping away from our family at that point.

But dear ol’ Dad did teach me one very important lesson.

It’s one I remember now, finally registering Nova and Aurora pop donut after sugary donut into their mouths.

Christmas was the one time Dad was home.

“The holidays are for family, full stop,” he used to say.

I remember noticing, at maybe four or five years old, we’d get to that point where all our presents were unwrapped and that disappointed‘it’s-over’feeling would sink in. It was only then, when even the cat had opened its chew toy and Mom wore her new robe, pretending it was all she ever wanted, that Dad would crack his knuckles, his presents lined up next to him, and say, ‘Guess it’s time to open these now, eh?’

He’d wait until we were all done before even considering opening his first. Every year it was the same.

It completely perplexed me.

How could he just sit there while we tore through all of our gifts, sipping his coffee, looking more deeply content than we felt after we’d opened three times as many presents?

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