“Asa, you’re still okay with your brother taking the old cabin side of the land?”
“Yes.”
Again, man of many words. And, again, I knew he wasn’t intentionally insensitive toward our mom, but he definitely wasn’t what you might call an emotional person. No part of his body expressed his real feelings for anything; he was very much a closed book.
“He didn’t really go hunting with Gramps anyway,” I said through a mouthful of egg. I was the one with memories of that cabin, of many weekends spent with Gramps fishing, hunting, or just learning the way of the woods. Asa favored books and fitness. Our individual pursuits were practical, but very rarely did they align. Asa found joy—or, what most resembled joy in his very serious expression—in building, be that his brain or body. And Gramps’s dilapidated cabin had a history he wasn’t familiar with. He wanted to build from the ground up, to create the blueprint from a clean space. I, on the other hand, saw the beauty in old things, saw their potential.
“This stool’s pretty wobbly,” I said, feeling the imbalance as I adjusted my weight on it. “Maybe a screw is loose?”
“Oh, I haven’t noticed,” Mom replied, drying her hands on a towel. “Could you take a look when you have time? The others probably need to be tightened too.”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing a piece of bacon. “I’ll be back tonight; I’ll look then.” Asa made no sound, no movement to check the stability of his own stool. It was as if he completely tuned out all surrounding distractions when he was focused. I wondered what that was like.
“Looks like you need a haircut soon, big brother,” I said, ruffling Asa’s hair. Unlike me, he kept it clipped pretty close to his head; a nod to his former days as working as EOD—explosive ordinance disposal—when he was deployed. But lately, it was looking more and more unkempt. Maybe he was trying to match his beard. Go full mountain man.
“No haircuts in summer. I’ll get a sunburn while we’re out at the lake.”
“That makes sense,” Mom said. “More coffee?”
Asa paused reading for a moment to glance at his cup. “Sure.” When I nudged him with my elbow—the way he’d done to me growing up—he added, “Thanks, Mom.”
Judging by the look on her face, if words were currency Asa’s had just made my mom a millionaire. “Do you guys want me to pack you another lunch today?”
Asa just grunted noncommittally so I said, “Hell yeah, Mom. Thanks.”
“Speaking of haircuts,” she began, “you look like you need one soon, Keane.”
I rubbed my hand over my head. “I keep hearing that. Navy said she’d cut it on Sunday.”
“Oh, that’s nice of her.”
“Thought she was Megan.”
Asa’s remark had me turning my head. “What?”
He hadn’t looked at me once this morning, but he turned then, looking at me like he was trying to remember what he’d said. “Oh. When I saw her, I thought it was Megan.”
“They don’t even look alike.”
“I didn’t look at her. I just heard her talking.” Asa turned back to his newspaper.
“I’m not even dating Megan anymore,” I said, reminding Asa. But Asa shrugged like he didn’t remember having that conversation already—twice. I’d have to start writing down this kind of shit for him. A thought occurred to me. “Did you call Navy Megan?”
“No, he didn’t.” My mom filled my coffee without me asking. “He just mentioned her name.”
Fuck. I raked a hand down my face. I could only imagine what Asa had said, that made Navy feel even more awkward. “We broke up a few days ago.” I wanted to remind Asa of the conversation, but then I knew I risked him being defensive for not remembering it in the first place.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I tried to think of what to say to Navy. What did you say to your best friend after having sex with them? Especially when you were confused about your feelings following that sex?
Hey, I typed. Real Pulitzer content there. Asa said he mentioned Megan. FYI—he and I had a conversation about her after she broke up with me a few days ago. He just didn’t remember.
Her reply wasn’t immediate, but that didn’t surprise me since I knew she was driving.
Navy: It’s fine!
I wasn’t satisfied by that reply, nor the smiley face emoji that followed it. Even though we’d sort of talked in my bedroom, I felt like I’d left that conversation confused. How is it going? I asked. Real deep, emotional shit I was texting here.
In some ways, it felt like I was handling something made of thin glass and one misstep would shatter it. This was why you didn’t have sex with your friends, a fact I’d educated my brother with the day before.
Navy: Actually, it’s good! Jade and Rose are staying at their friends’ house again, so I’ve got the morning to myself before I have to go into work.
Was it weird that I wanted to invite myself along on her morning alone? I nearly did too, like a fucking jackass. Instead, I texted, “See you tomorrow.” Like a jackass.
Why did I feel so needy all of a sudden?
Because you’re confused as fuck.
Amen.
“You made a mess on the trampoline,” Asa said, breaking my thoughts.
“What?” Wait. Trampoline. Ice cream. Kiss.
“I’m assuming it was you.” Asa turned his paper over. “When I went for my run early this morning, I saw a couple pints of ice cream on it. Cookie dough. You like that one.”
Even though it wasn’t said like a question, I knew it was one. Sometimes Asa tested his memory by saying statements that he believed to be true. “I do, because it’s the tits.” Navy’s tits. I closed my eyes, as if that abolished the images of Navy’s perfect breasts from my memory.
“And another kind of ice cream. Brown. It’s everywhere.”
“I’ll hose off the tramp today, before we leave.”
“Garbage out there too.”
“Did you and Navy have an ice cream party last night?”
“Yeah.” I scooped up the last of my eggs. “Didn’t want to share with you guys, so we ate it on the trampoline instead of attempting to smuggle it past you.”
“Next time, get me the mint chip one,” Mom said, taking my empty plate from in front of me. When she moved to take Asa’s, he stood and put it in the dishwasher himself—oblivious to her attempt.
“Mint chip,” I said, distracting her from her disappointment as Asa left the room. “You got it.”
“Let me put some things together for your cooler.” She washed her hands quickly and I wiped up my mess and came around the counter, giving her a hug from behind and followed it with a kiss on the cheek. “You’re such a good boy,” she said, turning around and patting my cheek.
It was hard for her to accept that I wasn’t a boy, that I was an adult with his own life. That’s why I didn’t mind being seen as a mama’s boy. It made her feel good to mother us.
“It was nice seeing Navy this morning,” she said, turning back to the bread she’d laid out. “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”