Page 20 of Say Something
“Yep. Mike and Mel might as well have just bought the bottle. Or bottles.”
I cringed, then groaned as I slipped into the seat beside him. “That’s why I woke up with a hairball in my mouth,” I muttered to myself.
“What?” Bryan asked, raising his eyebrow.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to shake my head. The movement made my brain rattle and I stopped just as soon as I’d started. “I need coffee.” I moved to get up, but Bryan put his hand on my arm.
“I’ll get it,” he said.
I smiled at him in thanks and watched as he stood and made his way around the kitchen, first grabbing a mug and filling it with the hot goodness, then opening another cabinet and grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen. A tinge of sadness rolled through me as I watched my older brother move through my little brother’s kitchen with such familiarity. I should have known Michael’s kitchen that well, too.
I made a tiny, ridiculous little goal to know my way around my siblings’ homes. At least around their kitchens, I didn’t want to come off as a complete psycho rummaging through their closets and stuff. I just wanted to know them in that small, insignificant (yet so significant) way they all seemed to know each other. The fact that I was so unfamiliar with their lives now was no one’s fault but my own, but it was something I planned to fix.
Bryan set the mug and a couple pills down in front of me and gestured to the sugar and creamer. “Thank you. I drink my coffee black, though.”
“Me, too,” he said, and I smiled, pleased we had that in common, and even more pleased that I now knew how one of my siblings took their coffee. One down, two to go.
***
“And he was just sitting there, stunned, covered in mud and river water. He had no idea what the hell happened.”
I clutched my stomach as I laughed at Bryan’s story. He just finished telling me about when he and Michael went on a fishing trip for a mutual friend’s bachelor party. Apparently Michael and the boat trailer didn’t get along, and Michael ended up on his ass in the muddy bank of the river.
“How are you even alive?” Melissa grunted at me as she walked into the kitchen. “I thought for sure I’d find you passed out in the bathroom.”
“I smelled coffee,” I shrugged, holding up my cup. She nodded, as if that made all the sense in the world. It did, of course.
“Y’all do realize it’s not even eight yet,” Michael said as he joined us a moment later, scratching his head and squinting his eyes at the small digital clock numbers on the microwave. “We went to bed like four hours ago.”
“Someone’s grouchy in the morning,” Melissa taunted him in a goofy voice pausing in the preparation of her coffee to ruffle his hair. Cream and two sugars. I wasn’t surprised.
Michael twisted away, glaring at her. “Someone is not used to having a houseful of people making a ruckus at seven forty-five in the morning.”
“Sorry, Mikey,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster given my state. I still sounded like an eighty-year-old smoker. “Did I sing last night? Or scream?” I wondered out loud.
“No, but you were talking so loud, it was like you swallowed a megaphone,” Michael said.
“Huh.” That was an interesting visual. I picked up a spoon off the table and looked at my reflection as I opened my mouth as wide as I could. I didn’t even think my fist could fit in there, let alone a megaphone. The side of Melissa’s lip lifted in disgust as she watched me attempt to put my hand in my mouth. I shrugged, I honestly didn’t know what the hell I was doing either. Blame it on the alcohol.
“Why is it chicks get louder the more they drink?” Michael asked Bryan, who shrugged his shoulders in response.
“Hey,” Melissa scolded. “We’re your sisters. Don’t refer to us aschicks. Show some respect.”
Michael rolled his eyes as he lifted up the now empty coffee pot. “Really?”
“I’ll brew another batch,” I told him, feeling guilty for completely taking over his house. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d be sleeping in with the place to himself.
“Don’t worry about it, I got it.” I took note of the cabinet where he retrieved the filters and the coffee grounds and stored it in my memory bank, right next to the location of the cabinet with the pain pills. Never knew when I might be hungover at Michael’s house again. Hopefully not for a very, very long time.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Melissa asked, directing the question at no one in particular.
“The kids have a soccer game at ten, so I’ll need to head out soon.”
“Can I come?” I asked immediately. I wanted to make up for all the lost time, and if that meant cheering at sporting events, volunteering for bake sales, and camping with the kids’ scout groups, I would do just that.Aunt of the Yearright here, ladies and gentlemen. It was happening. I just wouldn’t say it aloud because then Melissa would fight me for the title. I’d rather her not know there was a competition.
When Bryan turned to me with a smile on his face, I knew I’d said the right thing. “Of course. We’d love to have you. They play at the rec fields.”
I grinned, excited to be making plans with my brother and his kids for the day. I couldn’t wait to really, truly be Auntie Jessica to Emma, Luke, and Evan.
“Why don’t we all go?” Melissa suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Michael added. He sat down at the table with his coffee—sugar only—and swiped the paper from Bryan.
We continued to chat about random things, and I found myself making plans for different events and activities with my brothers and sister. It warmed me from head to toe. It had been so long since I had that. Long before I stopped talking to my family even. That distance happened when I moved away to go to college and didn’t come home for more than a quick visit here and there. I was just so busy, always so busy. It was nice to slow down for a minute—or ten.
Being able to get a pedicure with Melissa, hit the flea market just outside of town with Michael, or sit on the sidelines of a soccer game with Bryan were things I’d never take for granted again.
