“You made it!” She shoves the headphones off to hang around her neck. “Mom made that macaroni salad you always liked. Dad insisted on steaks even though that seems like all we eat when he’s home.”
“I’m down with steak.” I take a swig of my beer and bend down to peer out the window. “How is he?”
She follows my gaze and shrugs. “In a good mood for once. I think Mom’s excitement over you coming for dinner has him on his best behavior. Sun’s still up though.”
I snort as I watch my dad hover over a smoking grill. He’s as big and burly as I remember, though his close-cropped black hair is shot through with more silver now. He looks relaxed at the moment, picking up the beer next to him and saying something to Mom, who appears within the frame carrying a tray of sliced veggies. I don’t hear what he says to her, but the suggestive tone and the way she molds herself to his side when he reaches for her makes me relax a little. She stretches up for a kiss, which he returns before going back to the steaks. Maybe this is a good sign. Perhaps he really has changed, but Elle’s insistence that I come couldn’t have been baseless. My teeth clench in anticipation of a confrontation.
“Maddy,” Elle whispers, yanking me out of my spiral of doubt and anger and something else.
What was going through my head? Fear? The old man taught us boys how to take a punch, but that was ages ago. What the fuck do I have to be afraid of now? I’ve stared death itself in the fucking eyes and come back from it.
“Come on.” She grabs my hand and tugs, and I finally uproot myself from her floor and let her lead me out into the backyard.
Dad doesn’t smile when he glances up and sees me. He just shakes his head and takes a swig of beer.
“It’s been a while,” I say, refusing to offer any of the normal platitudes a son probably should offer a dad he hasn’t seen in a decade. I don’t know what I expected from him, but his nonreaction to me shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
“Ten fucking years, and what the fuck do you have to show for it? That’s what you get for joining the goddamn Navy. No fucking discipline. You never learn to get your hands dirty the way a marine does, bunch of fucking squid faggots.”
I bite my tongue on the urge to point out that I was a greenside corpsman and spent the bulk of my time deployed with a battalion of marines just like him, keeping their sorry asses alive—and even fucking one of them—but it isn’t worth my breath. This is mild compared to the blowup I endured when I first announced my decision to join the Navy, and I don’t want to ruin this attempt at peacemaking by coming out to my dad and risking his wrath at what a faggot I really am.
I can already see more bubbling up inside him when Mom reappears, sweeping me into her arms and cupping the back of my head to pull me down to her shoulder, as if I’m still her little boy.
“Mon chéri, I’m so glad you could come,” she coos in her faint French accent. I inhale her familiar perfume, hoping to find some calm deep within.
“Fucking useless piece of shit for not coming sooner. She’s your goddamn mother and you haven’t been by once since you’ve been back?”
I clench my teeth and back away. Mom shifts her attention to him, squeezing his shoulder and touching the back of his neck in a light caress. “He doesn’t live here anymore, Julian. He helps me out enough at the studio and around town. You know I have Samuel to help around the house. We don’t go more than a couple days without seeing each other. I’m sure if I needed him to come to the house, he would.”
“You know I would, Mom.” I shoot a glare at Dad, who just snorts. Mom knows well enough that I prefer not to be here when he’s around, and Sam is here for anything that involves heavy lifting. At that thought, I glance around, looking for my brother. “Where is Sam?”
“I sent him to the store for more beer,” Dad says.
“What the fuck? He isn’t even twenty-one.”
“You boys all matured early. He passes for older, so why not take advantage of it the way I always did with you? Maybe if I show the kid a little trust he’ll actually follow in his father’s footsteps, unlike the rest of you ingrates. But the little shit’s been gone for an hour already, so maybe he’s a lost cause.”
I’m tempted to get on my bike and head to the corner liquor store where I’m sure Sam has gone so I can subvert the old man’s plan, but I’m reaching for my keys when a bang and a curse sounds from inside the house. Dad’s eyes narrow, and he stalks up the steps and disappears inside. Mom hurries after him, practically sprinting. Elle and I share worried looks as we follow on her heels.
Dad’s angry rumble echoes down the hallway. “Why am I not surprised? I’m gone for most of the year and think you might have actually grown up a little by the time I get back. Such a goddamn mama’s boy. Marcella, you’re too easy on him.”
I round the corner in time to see Mom tut-tutting over my brother where he sits at the kitchen table. She’s holding an ice pack against Sam’s face, and his gaze is downcast as he takes it from her and pulls it away once with a wince. Before he puts it back, I get a glimpse of a bleeding split through one eyebrow and blood covering the side of his face.
“Shh, baby. Don’t listen
