Page 37 of Love at Teamsgiving
I pull down the long driveway, bordered by columns of evergreens. This is the third house I bought for the family and I hope it’s the last.
“Where are we? What are we doing here?” Junie asks as if this is the start of a scene from a horror movie. She lets go of my hand and grips the armrest while peering out the window.
“Your mother is here.”
“Why?” she asks as if sensing something brewing.
I shake my head slowly. “I cannot fathom and am afraid to find out.”
“Whose house is this?” she asks, turning to me, wide-eyed.
“So many questions.” I chuckle.
“Well, if you’d give me some more information, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“For your information, this is my house.”
The driveway opens up to reveal a modern craftsman farmhouse lined with stones on the bottom that build toward wood siding.
Junie goes still, eyes wide. “It’s our dream house.”
I tip my head from side to side, not surprised that she noticed, but that she acknowledged it. When we were together, we’d talk about someday leaving the city for the countryside and raising our kids with lots of room to play outside. Junie wanted a wide front porch. I insisted on a barn. Not sure why, other than I like the way they look. Around here, I learned that people use them for at-home ice rinks.
“After leaving New York, I bought us a place in Washington, thinking we’d be there a while. Ma loved the big bathtub with jacuzzi jets and Pop practically lived in the garage with its huge workbench and tons of room for tools and projects. Then, I got traded to Missouri, and we relocated again. Ma got another tub and Pop the garage, and the kitchen was designed by a professional chef. They were in heaven. I was hardly there, busy with team stuff. Then, I got traded again. There is a new housing development, closer to town, but all the houses were already under agreement. This one is out past Redd’s place on the outskirts of Cobbiton, but it was the only place available that would fit all of us with room to spare for when my older brothers visit.”
Junie’s eyes are wide with awe. “It’s beautiful.”
“Hopefully, we won’t be packing up and leaving anytime soon.” The hockey season starts in a week and I’ve been training well. I hope to live up to the showman center reputation I’ve built for myself. The thing is, I always start strong and then fizzle out.
As Junie follows me up the lantern-lit path, I explain, “Ma and Pop have an attached apartment in the back. Charlie and Joey have rooms on the first floor. The rest of the space is mine, including upstairs ...” And kind of empty.
Until a pair of eyes gleam from inside the front door when I open it. I flip on the light to reveal a tabby cat with a distinctive brown line above its mouth. He meows and rubs against my legs. I give him a bro-pet, tapping his flank.
“Burt Reynolds, meet Junie. Junie meet Burt.”
“You named your cat Burt Reynolds?”
“The other option was Jeff, but you can’t deny he looks like the actor with the mustache.” Our fathers loved his movies and would watch them and practice the lines while they worked on improving their English.
Junie says, “Those are his markings, not a mustache.”
I shrug and pour some food into his bowl, then refresh his water, which my brother didn’t do even though I texted him earlier.
“It’s quiet in here,” Junie says as if accustomed to our boisterous apartment filled with boys.
I miss the noise, as strange as that sounds. “A rarity. Likely, everyone is in Ma and Pop’s section.”
“Never figured you for a cat dad.”
“He was here when we arrived. A regular greeting party.”
Junie tells me about Sharon Linderberg while petting the cat, who, for the first time, ignores his food. She has him purring in her arms.
I have a vision of us here, together. Mr. and Mrs. Cruz with the cat and a bunch of kids and it fills my head with happy sounds and memories that I’m afraid aren’t meant to be until Junie smiles at me.
“He likes you.”
“At least someone in this house does,” Junie mutters.
