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There it was. I nodded and struggled to keep my expression neutral, pleasant. "Yep. That's why I can't play soccer anymore." I kept my tone light, and hoped it didn't betray any of the bitterness I’d been working so hard to contain.
"You're going to physical therapy?" It was more statement than question, and I heard the judgment in my brother's voice.
"Not sure what the point would be." I had tried physical therapy right after I’d gotten the cast off. It was painful and pointless.
Cormac barked out a laugh. "My six-year old notices your limp. Maybe you can't play anymore, but you can at least rehab so you might have a chance at walking normally again."
"Kids are more observant than other people," I said, knowing that even a baby would notice my limp. It wasn't going away, though. No amount of physical therapy could mend what was broken in there—or in my heart. I’d never been anything but an athlete, and that was over. I didn't care about the limp. If anything, the pain and my slow gait felt right—an outward expression of how twisted and broken I was on the inside.
"Gonna just stay in your big house and feel sorry for yourself, huh?" Cormac's tone was bitter, and even though his words cut and I felt my little-brother instinct kick into high gear, ready for a fight, I also guessed my brother might be talking about himself. He was broken too. I restrained myself and changed the subject, feeling mildly proud that I hadn't taken the bait.
"How's work, Mac?"
Cormac had moved to Singletree a few years back to start an accounting firm with a college pal. Linda had been charmed by the little town, and they'd agreed it would be a good place to raise their family.
Cormac frowned and took a long drink of his beer. "Work is fine. Harder now without having help for the girls. A lot of late nights to keep up."
I nodded. My brother's sadness had fallen heavy over the back porch, coating everything in a blanket of grief. A glance at my older niece told me she could feel it too, and my heart twisted in my chest at the thought of these bright little girls being anything but light and full of fun. "You could bring the girls here," I said before I’d really had a chance to think about it.
"You want to babysit?" Cormac was already shaking his head.
I sat up straighter, suddenly feeling like it was the right thing, maybe the first right thing I’d found in a while. "When you need it. Maybe after school, give you some time to work?"
Taylor was following this conversation with clear interest, her book forgotten in her lap. "It'd be better than daycare," she said, a high note of hope in her voice. Her dark wide eyes met mine and my heart twisted again at the plea I saw there.
Cormac stared out at where Maddie rolled in the grass, pulling together little piles of leaves that had fallen from the ancient oaks bordering the yard. Her pink coat was covered with dry grass and dirt, but she was smiling to herself as she played. "I don't know," he said quietly.
"Give it a try?" I asked.
"They're already set up at daycare," Cormac said. "That's no small task, by the way. There's doctor's notes and immunizations and multiple changes of clothes and ziplocks full of everything you can think of, and you basically sign your life away just to get a spot at these places..."
"So don't give up their spots. We'll keep paying for them, just in case."
"Easy for you to say, super star. I'm not in the business of paying for a service I'm not using. Things are tight, Callan. Kids cost money."
"I'll cover it." I said, selling himself on the idea as I convinced my brother. "I could use the company." I was surprised to hear myself say those words. I’d spent the better part of a year trying to convince myself I didn’t need anyone.
"I'll think about it."
"He needs us, Dad," Taylor said, and I couldn't help the shock that flooded through me at her words. I turned to look at her. Was I so transparent a six-year old could see the wounds inside me? "Look at this place," she continued. "He doesn't have up a single Christmas decoration and it's almost December."
Oh thank god. We laughed—me with relief that my need for human company hadn’t been quite so obvious as I’d feared. I thought of the woman who'd dropped in the day before to talk about Christmas decorations. The woman with the silky dark hair and the wry smile. If she and Taylor got together, the house would be done up and featured on television before I even got a word in.
"Do you even have a tree, Uncle Callan?" Taylor asked. Maddie had wandered back up to the porch and now she stood next to her sister's chair.
"Yeah, where's your Christmas twee?" she asked, her eyes going even wider as she looked around her, hoping to spot a glowing pine somewhere nearby.
"If you guys help, maybe we can get one set up this week," I said, glancing sideways at my brother, hoping to see him going along with the plan.
"Fine," Cormac said in a near-whisper. "Just a couple hours when Taylor gets done with Kindergarten. You'll have to pick them up. I'll come get them by six."
The happy smile that lit up Taylor's face felt like a win—the first one I’d had in a long time—and I leaned back in my chair, feeling a little less directionless than I had before.
5
Underwear Ad of Dreams
April
