In the morning I woke up with something sharp in my side and a rocklike shape against my head. I tried to move my leg, but something was trapping it. When I opened my eyes, the memories of where I was came back to me. Jason lay on his stomach, half of his body falling off of the bed. His elbow stabbed into my side, shoulder against my temple, his other leg trapping mine. I tried to move slowly to keep him from waking up, but the bed frame squeaked loudly, failing to do what I hoped. Jason sat up and realizing it was only the bed, plopped back down against his half of the pillow, or what became three fourths.
We sat down at Uncle Dave’s kitchen table for breakfast. The table was made of wire and metal, forming a pale pink floral pattern. It was more so a back patio kind of table than a kitchen table, but it did not seem to bother Uncle Dave. On the table laid three dishes: one with fruit, one with bread, and one with cereal. Surprisingly, it did not look nearly as bad as I expected. Uncle Dave set out a bowl, spoon, and napkin at each of the four chairs, as if a fourth person was coming to eat with us.
“What do you guys want to drink?” Uncle Dave asked, looking in the fridge.
“What do you have without alcohol?” Jason asked.
“Water, uh, well I guess that’s it.”
“How are we supposed to eat cereal without milk?”
“What? You guys don’t eat it dry?”
Jason just stared at him in disbelief.
“No,” I piped in.
“Well you can still eat it, right?”
“I guess,” Jason mumbled as he grabbed the bowl of cereal from the center of the table and spooned some into his own bowl. He passed the bowl to me and I did the same. It appeared to be something similar to Frosted Flakes, though it did not taste as good. I helped myself to some of the fruit, which I silently prayed was still good to eat.
“Are you sure the bread isn’t stale?” asked Jason.
“Why would it be stale?” Uncle Dave asked.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember that one time when I was like five and Dad realized there was mold growing on the end of my sandwich, and then when I got home I got food poisoning and had to go to the emergency room?”
“It was one time, Jason,” Uncle Dave said, clearly growing annoyed. “Besides, your dad is the one who gave you the sandwich.”
“You made it,” Jason added.
“It won’t happen again.” Neither of us ate the bread. I must say though, minus the milk, this was more food for breakfast than Dad had given me my first morning with him.
Uncle Dave came and sat down across from Jason and next to me, leaving the seat between them vacant. After filling his bowl with all three options, he reached for my hand and across the table for Jason’s. At first I could not figure out what was happening, but then I remembered dinners back home in San Francisco. I held my hand out for Jason and he took it. Uncle Dave began the prayer and I shut my eyes, remembering Harper’s kindergarten prayer. First she thanked God for her food, then family, then friends. I felt a lump gather in my throat at the thought of Harper and my family. Uncle Dave ended the prayer and I pushed the thoughts out of my head by focusing on the food in front of me.
“So I was talking to your father the other night, though it was only for exactly five minutes. He told me that he’s very excited to see you guys.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Jason asked.
“Uh, sure. So how’s basketball going?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “I still suck. Something else?”
“Why do you set up the fourth seat as if someone’s going to sit there?” I asked, referencing the empty seat across from me.
“Um, well that’s where Natalie used to sit. She was my wife until a few years ago, seven to be exact, she left me. She died a year later from cancer, but I feel like if she had lived, she would’ve come back for me.” Crap. Why the heck had I asked such a sensitive question?
“Oh, sorry,” I said staring down at my soggy cereal.
“No, it’s fine. She wouldn’t have left me if I hadn’t been such an idiot.”
Like your brother? I could not imagine anything worse than what my dad had done. All of a sudden I felt guilt take over me. I had chosen, indirectly, my dad over my mom. I chose the cheater over the naïve. Maybe I’m the idiot. Maybe it runs in the family.
“How’s your mom doing, Jason?” Uncle Dave asked, breaking the silence.
“Fine, I guess. She probably wishes I was with her.”
Uncle Dave nodded, nothing left to say. I watched Uncle Dave as his eyes glazed over. I hope it was not because of what I had asked. Maybe it was just Jason’s attitude. It could have been a combination of the two. The lump returned to my throat. This time I was not sure why. I’m not the kind of person to get really emotional over other people’s problems. This seemed like more than just his problem, though. I felt like the longer I was with this side of my family, the more I saw the flaws and the rough edges. Not that every family does not have its ups and downs, but this was not like the rest of my family in San Francisco. Though my mom is the one who links me to these people, she is nothing like them. When Jason said he sucked at basketball, she would have been the first to point out all of his strong points. When Uncle Dave set out the food on the table, she would never have questioned if the bread was stale or why there was no milk. She would have thanked Uncle Dave for being so thoughtful as to set the table up for us without us asking or helping. My step dad would have told me I looked beautiful today, without any make up on. Even if I did not agree, he would have made me believe that he thought I was. Harper would have told everyone good morning and asked them how their day was going, even at eight in the morning. Why was I not more like them? Why had I chosen someone else over them, twice?
When we were finished, Uncle Dave collected our dishes and headed back into the kitchen. As Uncle Dave came back through the kitchen to collect the rest of the food, he stopped next to Jason and grabbed his bicep. Jason turned his head to look at Uncle Dave, raising one eyebrow.
“You’ve buffed up since the last time I saw you.”
“Yeah well the nearly-anorexic-looking-seventeen-year-old-with-braces isn’t exactly the most attractive look.”
“Could you help me with something after I clean up?”
“I guess.”
“Good. I could use your help too,” He said, pointing to me.
I nodded to show that I heard him.
As soon as Uncle Dave was finished, he led us through the back door to where a few pieces of wood laid.
“I need you to bring wood from that shed over there over here for my fire place.” I followed Uncle Dave’s fingers to where a shed was, at least two hundred yards away. When I looked at the size of the few remaining pieces of wood by the house, my shoulders slumped. I guess Uncle Dave noticed my lack of enthusiasm.
“Hey,” he said tapping my shoulder. “You get tired, let your brother take over.” I looked over at Jason, both his eyebrows raised in disapproval.
“Bring it all over. There’s about forty pieces over there. I’d do it myself ‘cept my back won’t do that anymore.”
As soon as Uncle Dave was inside, Jason began walking towards the shed. I quickly followed after him.
“That man pisses me off so much. Who the crap still uses firewood? Just get a gas fireplace for crying out loud.”
“Gosh, give him a break,” I replied.
“Says the girl who asked about his dead ex-wife.”
“I didn’t know okay!”
We continued to walk in silence. Once we reached the shed, Jason opened the door, and I followed him inside. The wood was basically the only thing in the shed aside from a few tools hung on the wall. Jason picked up two pieces, one in each arm and exited the shed. I tried to grab two but could barely hold one. Trudging out of the shed, I nearly dropped the wood twice. By the time I reached the house, my arms were already tired.
“This is going to take forever,” I said, out of breath.
“Here, how about we use my truck.”
I nodded in agreement.
We got in his truck and drove to the shed. Instead of walking ten minutes there, it took about thirty seconds, a minute tops.
“I’ll put the wood in the back if you can drive back to the house and unload. I’ll take the wood out from the shed while you’re unloading.”
“Okay.” I had driven the truck in an empty parking lot and our neighborhood, but never on grass. It did not help that that past night it had rained. The ground was uneven and puddles of mud were everywhere. I sat in the car and waited for Jason to finish loading up the back of the truck with wood. I watched him through the rearview mirror as he entered and exited the shed carrying wood. I had not noticed it before, but Uncle Dave was right. Jason had definitely put on some muscle from last year. He was still skinny, but not in the sick way that he was last year. But the longer I watched him, the more I saw our dad in him. I feel like eyes are the one feature that makes your face yours. And when someone shares your eyes, they look so much like you. Instead of seeing the eyes of my dad when he was happy to finally meet his daughter, I saw the eyes of the man who lay passed out on the kitchen floor. Jason yelled something to me from the back and still in a daze, pressed the gas pedal.
“What the heck was that for?” he yelled.
I stopped the truck and turned around to find Jason covered in mud. My mouth dropped open and for some reason I felt scared. Why was I scared? It was just Jason. The kid who came into my room crying because everything was falling apart. But for a moment I did not see Jason, I saw my dad. Why was I scared of my dad? He really had never done anything to me, had he? Jason came over to the driver’s seat and opened the door.
“I said I was almost- are you okay?” I nodded quickly and got out of the car.
“Callie, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” he said, smiling slightly as if it were a joke.
“I’m fine!” I yelled walking back towards the house.
“Callie! What’s wrong?”
“I said I’m fine!” A tear slipped down my face. No, don’t let him see you cry.
“No you’re not!” He grabbed my shoulders so that I was forced to face him. Another tear fell and I quickly wiped it up.
“You’re shaking and you look like you’ve seen a ghost! What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. You can’t look him in the eyes. He moved his thumb over to my cheek, wiping up my tear. Stop touching me. He’ll hit you. I yanked away from his hold and ran as fast as I could. An image of someone being hit ran through my mind. I watched as someone hit my mom, tears streaming down her face.
“Callie! Please wait!”
My mom screamed as blood ran down the side of her face. A man grabbed her by the wrists. “You can’t leave me! I won’t let you!”
I reached the house and ran into our “bedroom.”
“Please let me in,” Jason spoke on the other side of the door.
The man pinned her against the wall. “I love you.” My mom stared him down before kneeing him in the groin and lifting me up, leaving the man on the floor. He looked up at me right before my mom shut the door and mouthed “I love you.” It was my dad.