"You made it!" I opened the front door of
my
house to find my brother on the step. A handsome big guy stood at Doug's side and lifted a bottle of whiskey with a ribbon on it.
"Gene, this is Hank," Doug said. "And of course I made it. You bought a fucking house."
"Well, I had to do
something
with that bonus Peter gave me."
"Still, surprised you took the job," Doug said. "I didn't think you wanted to owe everything to Alex's dad."
"He owes me," I said. "When Steve fucked everything up at the old place, I did take three of their most profitable clients and the best members of my team with me."
"Yeah, but I doubt
Alex's dad
thinks you've paid off
that
deficit." Doug kicked off his sneakers. Hank looked around the porch. I had a moment of clarity.
"Right! Shit. Come in, come in. I'll give you the tour."
I stepped back and let my brother and his new beau enter
my
home. Saying, thinking, knowing, '
my
home' wasn't getting old, and I hoped it never would.
"Where're the girls?"
"Your girlfriends are here? Together? They know about each other?" Hank shook his head.
"I told you about my brother and his girlfriends," Doug laughed. "Also, take me somewhere with liquor glasses."
"He told me you were dating three girls, that they were hot, and that one of them plays Mercutio in Shakespeare in The Park, or whatever it's called," Hank explained. "He didn't say they knew about each other. Brave boy you are."
"Or lucky," I said. "If you believe in luck."
"Bravery is just hoping for good luck even when you should know better," Doug said. "Besides, watch them, you'll see they're not here just for Gene."
"Oh, well, that's more believable," Hank said to Doug. "You meant hot
for lesbians
, then."
"No, no I didn't," Doug smiled. He pushed my shoulder. "We brought liquor."
"I heard you," I said. "C'mere. I'll show you the front room first."
"Living room?" Doug corrected.
"We always had the TV and stuff in the living room back home," I countered. "Max's putting that together in the basement."
"That's called the rec room," Doug said.
"Fine. Welcome to the living room." The living room was the only left out of the porch. It was a long room that ran near the length of the house, from the picture window in front, to the kitchen pantry in back. Boxes were stacked. Shelves remained unbuilt. Furniture was in the process of delivery.
A new and shiny coffee table was in the back corner. I had lost the old battered beauty in the collapse. It was weird, the things I missed.
"That is a nice collection," Doug nodded.
A small cabinet sat on the coffee table; it was full of bottles. Once we had things organized, I planned to have it as the headpiece of an elegant shelving unit Sam had bought. For now, I had my private liquor stash at knee level.
"It's from Wayne and Ronni," I said.
"Max's parents," Doug translated for Hank.
"Dude, do your family stuff and I'll keep up as best I can," Hank squeezed my brother's hand. I smiled.
"Jesus! It seems almost insulting to put our bottle next to those." Doug put down what I expected was expensive akvavit. I unadventurously favored rye and rum. There was an adventure to be had in any of the 15 unfamiliar bottles.
" 'Almost', the operative word," I agreed. "What should we open?"
Hank, Doug, and I clinked our glasses. Do you shoot akvavit? I guess so. I liked it. Smooth. I had the feeling the quality was wasted on Doug and me. Hank really appreciated it.
"C'mon, no one wants to see a bunch of unpacked boxes," I gestured.
"Doug!" Max wasn't in the basement; she was in the kitchen. I was looping the ground floor of the home. My redheaded girlfriend eagerly hugged my brother. "And you're Na-"
"Hank," I interrupted.
"It's OK," Hank shook his head at me as he accepted the hug from Max. "I know the kind of man Doug is."
"Whew..." I pantomimed wiping my brow. Doug lightly smacked me on the back of the head.
"Ah, you look incredible, girl," Doug grabbed Max's hands and lifted them apart to see her. She was wearing a light summer dress and workboots. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun. "I have to say, I still can't believe Gene has this good of taste."
"Well, we kinda had to chase after him until he learned good taste," Max smiled.
"What are you doing?" I asked Max.
"Making sure you're fit and healthy," she said. She gestured to the bags and bags of Richardson's health food she was unloading into the fridge and pantry. We all looked at each other. We were helping.
"I got it," Max said. "Show your brother around."
"Yeah, not how the whole damsel-in-distress thing works," I said. I kissed her. "So I called for workhorses."
"I suppose," Max relented.
"Where's our sweetheart?" I asked Max.
"Up in the bedrooms, and before you ask, our nymph's in the backyard," she chuckled.
"They're not helping you in here?" I asked.
"It's just snacks," she said. "We're not doing the big housewarming thing until Sam's brothers fly in. And your parents drive in from Wolfville. And-"
"So today we're here for muscle," Doug nodded.
"He did warn you in advance, right Hank?" I asked.
"Yeah, absolutely," he nodded. "Though I expect pizza."
"Oh my god! I left my phone downstairs! I'll go order-"
"In a few hours," Hank waved down Max. He put a box on the kitchen counter and started pulling out cookware. "Where do you want these?"
"Well, I've been putting the dishes here and-"
And I had no say in where anything went. Max and Sam had stocked the fridge, the cupboards, and the cookie jars. Cookie jars were not things I had ever expected to own. They were three different-sized piggies and one pot-bellied wolf. Alex had insisted the moment she had seen them. I tried not to agree or disagree when Alex said she was the cute one and Max was the big one. Doug pulled out a pair of cinnamon roll cookies and put pig-Sam's head back on. I led them out to the backyard.
"You must hate this," Doug said as the three of us men looked out the back.
"Why? They're beautiful grounds." Hank washed down his cookies with a beer.
We were looking at a small fenced-in backyard. They weren't our fences, all three of my neighbors walled off their lots. A new baby-barn shed, painted red, had been delivered and sat in the corner. Stakes and pink string cordoned off a good fourth of the yard.
"There's a lawn to mow," Doug gestured. It was a small flat yard, not like the acre and a half of hills back at Mom and Dad's place. "You wanted to see a fight between Dad and Gene? It was when Dad wanted the lawn mowed every week."
"Yeah, and you didn't mind," I shook my head. "And he still made me do it."
