We were gone for maybe an hour—tops—and the living room looks like a bomb exploded. Stuffing bulging out of the couch, torn pillows strewn about, their contents spilling everywhere. Snippets of paper, old coffee grounds, ripped plastic bags, and God knows what else. And in the middle of it all, two exhausted pups sleeping right through our return.
“Kids, take the dogs out.”
I wait for the kids to hustle the dogs outside and then I sink down on the bottom step of the stairs and drop my head in my hands. Of course this has to happen only a few hours before my parents get here.
I could cry, but that’s not going to solve anything. Instead, I take a deep breath in, grab the grocery bags that were dropped by the front door, and proceed to put the stuff away.
An hour later the kids are in their rooms, the dogs in their crate—properly locked this time—and I am tying up the last garbage bag. I open the door to toss it with the other five bags already stacked outside, as Rafe’s truck pulls up.
Shit. I’d so hoped to have the worst of it taken care of before he got home.
“What are you up to?”
He walks up in that casual stride, unaware of the destruction still waiting inside. I sure hope we have duct tape, we’re gonna need quite a bit of it to temporarily patch things up inside.
“I’m, uh, cleaning up. We had a bit of an incident here.”
Rafe looks instantly alarmed. “Kids okay?”
I have to grab his arm to stop him from barging inside without warning.
“Kids are fine. Dogs are fine, although I’m not sure for how long. They got out and…rearranged the furniture.”
He pulls up his eyebrow. “Rearranged? How badly.”
“Oh, pretty badly. We’re gonna need to do some furniture shopping.”
“You’re shitting me,” he mutters, as he walks in the door.
I expect a series of expletives, some yelling maybe, but instead it stays silent, and finally I follow him inside. He has his back to me—beside the couch—standing stock-still. Then his shoulders start shaking.
“Rafe?” I rush up behind him and put my hand on his back, which is when he throws his head back and starts laughing.
Not the reaction I was expecting.
I look at what’s left of the living room and back at Rafe, trying to figure out what is so funny.
“Don’t look so worried,” he finally says, humor still shining in his eyes as he hooks an arm around my waist. “I don’t care. My whole life I’ve cared. Put too much importance on stuff. Even growing up I held on to what little was mine thinking it would make me happy.”
“Rafe…” I slide my hand up his chest and look up in his face.
He tugs me closer, smiling down. “Now I know stuff is just that; stuff. It doesn’t make you happy—people do. My kids do. You do. I lo—”
“Hello! We’re a little early. Why is the front door open?”
Rafe
Taz jumps back like she’s hit with ten thousand volts.
It doesn’t go unnoticed. Sarah glares sharply at Taz, before her eyes come to me.
“What’s going on here?”
“Grandma!” Spencer comes running downstairs and barrels straight into her legs, wrapping his arms around. Sarah’s eyes drop down as her hand automatically goes to his floppy hair.
“Hey, little man.”
“Where’s Grandpa?”
“Right here, little buddy.” I hadn’t even noticed Ed coming in behind his wife.
Taz is still standing frozen and I give her a little nudge when I pass. “Let me find you a place to sit, Dad.”
“Lilo and Stitch were bad,” my son volunteers. “They ate the living room.”
“I can see that,” Ed says dryly, taking a look around.
“Why would you leave the dogs alone? Look at the furniture.” I look at Sarah apparently focused on Taz, who hasn’t said a word yet.
“It was my fault,” Sofie says, coming down the stairs, her face drawn. “I thought I locked the crate, but I guess I didn’t.” Tears immediately pool in her eyes when they catch on me.
Before I have a chance to respond, Taz moves quickly, pulling Sofie in her arms. “It was an accident. A good reminder for everyone to make sure those latches are closed properly when we put the dogs away.” She sets Sofie back a little and leans her face close. “Besides, it comes with the unexpected bonus, we get to shop for new furniture now.” At that a smile breaks through Sofie’s tears.
“Yuck. Shopping is stupid, right, Dad?”
“Let’s call it a necessary evil, okay, Son? Now, why don’t you two,” I look at both my kids, “get Grandma and Grandpa set up outside in the shade with some drinks, while Aunt Taz and I sort out things in here, all right? Let the dogs out too.”
“I’m getting the dogs!” Spencer yells already, heading for the dog crate.
Ed shuffles his way to the back door with Sofie on his heels, but Sarah stays put.
“I’ll help,” she announces, but I put a hand on her arm.
“Thanks, Mom, but we’ve got this. We won’t be long.” I can tell she’s not pleased, but she still follows when Spencer leads the dogs through the kitchen.
Taz dramatically wipes her brow when they disappear out of view.
“That was too close,” she mumbles.
“We need to talk to them, Taz. Before they find out another way.”
“I know, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today, okay? Let’s get this place in some order and start on dinner. We’ll go over and talk to them tomorrow. Do you have duct tape?”
She picks up what looks to have been a remote control and puts the pieces by the TV. I’m tempted to push the issue, but decide to leave it for now and instead go in search of tape.
Half an hour later, with the living room taped back together as best we could manage and a start made on dinner, I head outside to light the grill.
“Does Taz need a hand in the kitchen?” Sarah asks when she sees me.
The kids are rolling in the grass with the dogs and Ed looks like he’s napping in his chair. “She’s wrapping the potatoes to go on the grill. She’ll be out shortly.” I can feel her eyes on me as I run the steel wire brush over the racks.
“I’m not sure it’s wise to encourage her, Rafe.” She’s come up behind me and speaks in a soft voice. “It’ll just be harder for the kids when she eventually moves out.”
I bite my tongue. I’d like to tell her she will not be moving out at all, but that would lead to explanations Taz wants to avoid tonight. I don’t want to lie either, so I abruptly change the subject as I turn to face her. “Can I get you a glass of port to go with dinner, or would you like something else?”
She stares at me for a long pause before she answers. “Port sounds good.”
When I look over at Ed to see if he needs a refresher, I find him awake and keenly observing us. I’m used to him being quiet. I’ve never considered maybe quiet doesn’t equal unaware. “Dad? Ready for another beer?” He holds up his empty bottle in response.
Taz
“Stay and talk to me.”