“Yeah,” I admitted easily.
His smile was warm and genuine. Dad had been trying more lately. Audrey seemed to have that effect on him, too. “That’s great, Blake. Really, I’m happy for you. It’s about time you found someone to make you happy, and—”
Mom hurried into the kitchen in a flurry of aggravation with Jake hot on her heels holding his Gremlins DVD. “Jakey, I already told you. We are not putting the TV on right before dinner. It’s not happening, so stop asking.” She turned to pin my gaze with hers. “And I don’t want to hear anything out of you about it, okay? So, don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I muttered. Then, I looked to Jake and said, “Hey, buddy, Dad’s cutting the turkey, okay? We’re going to eat in just a few minutes. But I promise, right after you’re done, I’ll put Gremlins on.”
Jake clutched the box in his hands, eyeing the turkey Dad was almost finished carving. “You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.” Then, I laid the spatula down and extended a hand toward him. “Here, I’ll even pinkie swear on it.”
Grinning, Jake wrapped his littlest finger around mine and we shook. “Pinkie swear,” he declared in a bellow and laid the DVD down on the counter before heading into the dining room.
Dad offered a small smile in my direction. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing with him, but it’s like dealing with a whole new Jake.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. Over the past month, Jake had been less combative and more agreeable. It was easier to reason with him, easier to calm him down, and if I really thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worried about him becoming violent. It was great and even though I felt triumphant at the praise from my father, I knew I couldn’t take the credit.
It was all Audrey.
Well, Freddy, too. But mostly Audrey.
I wasn’t the only one she had fixed.
“I haven’t noticed much of a difference,” Mom all but snickered, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “He still fights with me.”
“Well, I’m not saying he doesn’t fight anymore, he’s always going to—”
“Then, let’s not act like he’s cured, Paul,” she snapped, leveling my father with an ugly glare.
Dad lifted the platter and turned to me with the look of a man who’d just had his balls handed to him. “Ready to eat?” he asked, his voice tense and struggling for control.
“Yeah, Dad,” I nodded, as I grabbed the biscuits, and I thought again about my conversation with Dr. Travetti. About my role as the bad kid and if it’d been as real as I’d been made to believe. Or if I was just doomed to wear a red mark handed to me after one very, very unfortunate accident.
But that’s all it was. An accident.
***
Jake was quietly watching Gremlins on the floor in front of the TV, his arms wrapped around Mickey’s neck. I came up from behind him with a slice of apple pie, topped with a heaping mound of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream, and asked, “Hey, buddy, want some dessert?”
Jake turned to look up at me with a bewildered grin. “You betcha!”
“Here you go.” I passed the pie down to him. “Don’t make a mess, okay?”
With both our hands locked on the plate between us, his eyes fixated on mine with that look. The one that managed to work its way through my retinas and into my brain, with the intent of digging deeper and deeper until there was nowhere else to go but to burrow in the pit of my chest and curl up between my lungs. I was frozen and unable to look away, as his smile slowly stretched.
“You’re still blue,” he seemed to assure me, nodding. “But you’re pink also. So pretty and bright.”
“Ew, pink?” I twisted my mouth with blatant disgust as my curiosity ignited. “That’s gross, man. Don’t tell me that.”
Jake laughed, taking his pie into his lap. “It’s not gross! All the colors are pretty.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms and shaking my head. “Yeah, whatever you say, pal.”
He shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. “You should tell Audrey your colors. She put them on you.”
Instantly sobered at the mention of her name, I reached down to ruffle his hair. “Maybe I will.”
“Tonight.”
I chuckled under my breath. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Jake. I’m not seeing her tonight, so—”
“You are.”
I froze on the spot, startled by the sincerity in his tone. I had no plans of seeing Audrey until tomorrow night, after she and her mother had gone Black Friday shopping. What would make me see her tonight? What reason could I possibly have to change our plans now?
Breaking out of my stupor, I laid a hand over his head and said, “I’ll see you on Sunday, buddy.” He was quiet now and simply nodded, keeping his attention solely on the movie. I sucked in a deep breath and quickly moved into the kitchen before he had the chance to say anything else. There, I found my parents in conversation with one of my aunts. Quietly, I snatched my keys from off the counter, hoping to make a quick getaway before being roped into the chatter myself, when my mother turned to me.
“Oh, Blake, while you’re still here, I wanted to mention something to you.”
I caught Dad’s somber downward gaze and furrowed my brow. “What’s up?” I asked.
“Just so you know,” Mom went on without hesitation, “Dad and I went back to Shady Acres earlier this week and signed the papers. We’ll be moving Jake over there after Christmas.”
It took a few moments for the words to make sense in my head, while the impact instantaneously caused my heart to combust, leaving my chest open and bleeding onto the kitchen floor. I expected my mother to scream at me to clean it up, to demand I get the mop and get to work on making her floor sparkle again. All I could do was reach a hand out to grip the edge of the counter and try to remain steady, to keep myself from falling over into the puddle of blood collecting on the floor.
“Blake? Did you hear me?”
At that snappy tone, I did hear her, and I finally reacted. I curled my other hand into a fist and sent it sailing into the refrigerator door. The sound rang throughout the house and the faces of all my relatives turned to look on at the family drama about to unfold. The refrigerator contents rattled and spilled inside, and the stainless steel did nothing to cool the immediate throb that seared the side of my palm. But that all went ignored as I stared into the startled eyes of my mother.
“You didn’t fucking talk to me,” I growled through gritted teeth.
“Blake, calm—”
“You didn’t fucking talk to me!” I repeated, louder. Angrier.
Mom spread her arms wide, palms open. “Why do we have to talk to you about anything?”
I uncurled my fist and daggers shot up through my fingers to my elbow as I pointed one throbbing finger at my mother’s disbelieving face. “You didn’t say anything to me! You told me you were looking around. You told me you would keep me in the loop. But instead, you went behind my fucking back and signed the goddamn papers! How the fuck could you do this shit to me? There are other fucking options and—”