Page 25 of Adrift

With her, I feel like every fucking emotion parades itself over my damn face like it’s some Broadway musical. I lose every hand and fold like the world's most pathetic poker player.

I hadn’t seen her properly through the monitor that night. All I’d seen was a shadow of her holding Arman to her chest as she rocked him back to sleep. But when her voice trailed off and the room went silent, I found myself drawn to it . . . drawn to her. Before my mind could tell my feet to stop, I was getting out of bed.

I stood there watching her for a good five minutes. The way her bare legs stretched out in front of her, the way her beautiful curls lay across her exposed shoulders, the way her mouth rested on my son’s hair. I wanted to pull out my damn phone and take a picture, like some fucking creep.

But before I could decide what I was going to do, her eyes snapped open and landed on mine. It was as if she could feel me there, as if she’d beckoned me there. Her focus stayed steady on me, daring me to come closer. From the way she bit her lip to the way she lifted her chin, her eyes half shuttered, raking over me–it was a fucking siren’s call. And I was entranced.

If it wasn’t for my son’s sleepy voice pulling me from the fixation, I’m positive I would have either stood there all night or done something worse. Much worse. And I would have regretted it.

Not only has Sonia been gone for just a year, but her sister is a mere teenager! What the hell is wrong with me, ogling her like some pervert?

I saw her car parked outside late last night and the lights were on under her bedroom door, but then she was gone earlier than either me or Arman woke up this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.

I consider texting her but then wonder what I would even say. I don’t want to seem like I’m just checking in–I did tell her she was off the hook from worrying about us during the weekend–but I also want to make sure she doesn’t feel so uncomfortable around me now that she no longer wants to come home while I’m here.

I place the bouquet of new lilies in a vase full of water before I start unloading the groceries. Arman whines to be let out of his high chair, so I unbuckle him and leave him to wander around the living room and play with his toys while still keeping an eye on him. Thankfully, none of my furniture has hard edges, and I’ve childproofed most cabinets–except for the one with all the steel bowls that he loves to get into–so I don’t have to worry too much about him getting into anything I don’t want.

Scrawling out a quick note and affixing it inside the flowers, I run upstairs and place the vase in front of Rani’s door. I’m midway down the stairs when my phone buzzes inside my pocket. A big part of me hopes it’s her, but I know the answer to that before I even look to see who it is.

A message from Garrett to both me and our other brother Dean lights up my screen.

Garrett: You good on beer? I can pick some up on my way there.

Dean: You might want to pick some up. The guy’s idea of a fun libation is a protein shake or a cup of green tea. I’ll pick up wings.

I shake my head, typing out my response to my asshole twin brothers. They may be three years older, but I swear I feel like the only adult in the room when we’re all together. It’s been that way my entire life.

The three of us share the same father–they even take after our dad with their blue eyes and blond hair–but their mom divorced our dad a year after they were born. My dad married my mother not long after that, and they’ve been together ever since.

Growing up, my brothers spent as much time with me and my parents as they did with their mother and stepfather. So, while it was known that we were half-siblings, we’ve never treated each other as anything but full-blooded brothers. My mom has always treated them like her own, just as their mom has always accepted me as an extension of them.

I’m aware of the rareness of our family dynamic, but it’s how I grew up–with my family being my backbone. It’s also why I always found the animosity Sonia’s parents–mainly her mother–had for us and our relationship to be so foreign.

I used to wonder how they could have disowned their daughter for following her heart. How could your family, whom you trusted to love you unconditionally, disavow you at the time you need them to understand and support you the most?

I couldn’t understand it for the longest time, but I told myself I’d overcome my guilt of breaking up her family–of taking her away from all the loved ones she knew–by giving her my own. I told myself that, with time, she’d feel at home with mine. And for a long time, she did.

After Sonia died, my brothers were there for me as much as they could have been, given their full-time jobs and their own commitments. And when they weren’t here physically, my parents were just a short distance away. So while I spent many long and lonely nights missing the woman who’d been a part of my nights for so long, I knew my days would be anything but lonely.

Me: I’m pretty sure I’ve had you covered the past few poker nights, and I have you covered today, too.

Me: Also, you studying for the SATs or something? Who the hell uses the word ‘libation’?

Dean: I do. :)

Garrett: Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Did Ryan confirm?

My recently divorced friend, Ryan, used to come to our poker nights. He’d bring his now ex-wife Emily, and while we played a few rounds at the house, the ladies would take their drinks and banter out on the front patio of our old house.

But ever since Sonia died, and Ryan and Emily separated, we lost touch. But for the sake of trying to get my life back to normal–however normal it can be considering the circumstances–I recently reached out to see if he wanted to join us again. And to my surprise, he accepted.

Maybe I should have thought more about mending that bridge before I sent him the invitation text, but now that he’s coming, I can’t rescind the offer. I can’t say I’m extremely thrilled about it, though.

It’s not that he’s a bad guy, but it takes a certain level of energy and overlooking of objectionable behavior–followed by at least a day of detox–to be in Ryan’s company. The words ‘loud and obnoxious’ don’t quite sum up his personality. Even at thirty-something years old, I’m positive he thinks he’s still the president of his old college fraternity. While my own brothers can come across as exuberant and excitable–given how sociable they are–they don’t hold a candle to Ryan’s thunderous personality. Where my brothers are genuine and adept at reading the room, Ryan lacks that bit of sophistication, wavering on the line of being an outright douchebag at times.

I sigh, typing out my response.

Me: Yeah, he’ll be here. Bring ear plugs.

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