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The door closed and the shower began to run, and after a few minutes, I pushed myself out of the warm cocoon of the bed, and pressed my feet into the cold hardwood floor. My ankle protested immediately, shooting a pang of agony up my leg. I had thought staying off my feet all day would have helped, but evidently not. It was only painless when I was actually in the middle of sex. I sighed, pulled on some jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt, and went down to the kitchen to see about dinner.
I wasn't a fantastic chef, but I had always enjoyed being in the kitchen. I liked baking better than cooking—there were rules, after all, and if you followed those, everything worked out pretty well. Cooking was more like the Wild West, and the lack of clearly defined boundaries made me feel a little unsettled, like anything could happen. Maybe it was all the years on the soccer pitch, but I liked knowing where the lines were, knowing how to win.
Before long, I had music blasting through the kitchen, the walls of windows glowing with the light from overhead and the warmth from the oven and stove. I moved around, ignoring my ankle and enjoying the stark landscape outside the glass contrasted to the warm coziness within. I could hear April's feet above on the floorboards, and the knowledge that she was here created another kind of warmth inside me. As I made spaghetti sauce, my mind turned through images of the day like a nostalgic teenager might flip through photos on her phone. April, her hair cascading over us both as she sat astride me, leaning down for a kiss. April beneath me, those blue eyes glittering as she laughed. Less formed flashes of her skin, her scent, her sounds wafted through my mind, accompanied by the smell of the pumpkin pie I was making for dessert.
It wasn't just having someone here, I decided, trying to replace April mentally with Becky and feeling a cold frigidity settle inside me at the imagining. It was April. Even thinking of her name sent a little zip of pleasure through my chest. Something about her in particular made me want her to stay.
The woman in my mind appeared in the kitchen as I sat on a tall stool, stirring the sauce and singing along with “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” which had just begun playing on Pandora. "Oh god, Rudolph? Really?" she moaned.
"If we're going to Christmas you up, we might as well start big," I said. "Besides, this can be our song."
She strode over to peer past my shoulder at the sauce simmering in the pot. "This can definitely not be our song." She hesitated for a moment. "Do we need a song?"
I lifted a shoulder. That same teenaged girl inside me was swooning, telling me that yes, we needed a song, but that it should be romantic. I handed the girl in my head a scrunchy and a hydro flask and told her to beat it. What was happening to me? "No, of course not." I stood, pushing the stool away, suddenly needing to feel a little more manly.
"Does it hurt your ankle to stand for too long?" April said, watching me stand in front of the stove.
"Everything hurts my ankle," I said honestly. "Except being in bed with you. Today it didn't hurt almost all day, and that's a first."
"You had some distractions," April said, smiling. "I can stir. Or… ?"
"Make a salad?" I suggested at her implied question.
"Sure." April went to the refrigerator and found the ingredients easily enough. Soon, the gate buzzer sounded through the house, and I hurried off to let my brother and nieces in.
"Thanks for the invite," Cormac said, stepping in behind two squealing girls dressed in tutus for no explicable reason. "I was going a little nuts with the whole weekend ahead of me, to be honest."
I laughed as the girls leapt around the tree, talking excitedly to one another in a language I hoped maybe they could understand. "No problem. Come in. Drink?"
"Yeah." I glanced over my shoulder to see my brother rubbing a hand up and then down his face, looking worn out and a little defeated, and my heart ached for him. I didn't know how to help, not really, but I knew I shouldn't leave Cormac alone. Moving here had been the right thing. My brother needed help. And support.
"Hey April," Cormac said, following me into the kitchen, where April stood dutifully at the stove, stirring the pot of sauce, her salad in a bowl on the counter.
She stepped away, coming to give Cormac a quick hug. "Hi," she said, and I noticed the way her eyes scanned his face, the worry that crept into her expression as she let him go and went back toward the stove. "How are you? The girls?"
Cormac laughed, but it was a tired and hopeless sound as he slouched into a chair and accepted the tumbler I pressed into his hand. "We are hanging in there," he said. "What are we drinking?" He lifted the glass, inspecting the caramel brown liquid inside.
"Bourbon," I said. "But it's not as good as Half Cat's."
"Oh, yeah? What’d you think?” Cormac asked before taking a sip.
I told my brother about our visit and the three of them laughed at my recounting of Mr. FluffyNuts and the crazy rules of the counties over which the bar sat.
"Daddy!" A shriek erupted from the front of the house, sending all three adults to our feet and through the doorway to the parlor.
I stopped in the parlor, Cormac glancing around frantically at my side. We spotted Taylor standing outside the powder room door, looking worried. "What's going on?"
"Maddie's in there," Taylor said, pointing at the door. I tried to imagine what kind of shriek-worthy emergencies could happen in tiny bathrooms, but came up short.
A muffled sobbing sound came from inside the bathroom. Cormac stepped closer as April and I hovered just beyond. It seemed to me like bathroom problems were probably dad issues. "Honey?" Cormac called through the door. "You okay?"
"No!" A shriek came back in reply. "I want Mommy!" This last part devolved into miserable crying.
Taylor stepped closer to her father, looking up at him, and his hand cupped the back of her neck protectively as he glanced over at me. Cormac’s face was bereft, his eyes exhausted and his mouth drawn. "I know honey, we all miss her. Can I help with…this?"
"No!" Maddie was nearly hysterical inside the bathroom now, and her hiccupping sobs could be heard clearly through the door.
"What happened just before she went in there?" Cormac asked Taylor, squatting low to look her in the eye.
