“There’s a big difference between what we really believe and what we can convince ourselves we believe. The problem is I can’t tell them apart.”

***

I look up from my book as the front doorbell chimes and Ben slips inside hugging his arms like he’s freezing, despite the bubble coat.

“Why do you guys have the AC cranked up so high?” He shakes his head, his eyes big like a startled fish. “Can you people not breathe unless it’s subarctic inside?”

“Cocoa and I aren’t big fans of the cold,” I sigh, motioning to my package of tissues as I turn the page. “Mom and Dad are the ones who think it’s better this way.”

“Yikes,” Ben smiles asymmetrically, shaking his head again as he rests his hand on the front counter.

I sit back reflexively, but at least I keep my elbows and the book where they were.

“Guess you two didn’t inherit the polar bear genes, huh?” Ben jokes, and I raise my eyebrows slightly, still looking at my book, though I can see him regretting his statement out of the corner of my eye, as I ‘laugh.’

“Haaaah. Polar bears.”

Come on, Dominic. You can be nicer than that…

“I mean…I was just talking about…because of the cold,” Ben hugs his arms again uncomfortably, getting a look on his face that makes me think of a stray puppy, and I try not to sigh audibly.

Relax. Don’t treat him like a burden…

“You can chill,” I smile, closing my book and setting it down. “It’s fine, Ben.”

He nods, but his expression is still apologetic and awkward, as he slowly starts to glance around like he’s looking for a seat.

“The stools are back here,” I laugh reassuringly, tapping the one sitting beside me, but Ben still hesitates for a second before accepting my implied offer and coming around to take the seat.

Like he thinks I might grow a second head and swallow him or something.

There’s a short silence, and I drum my fingers on the counter, waiting for him to say…whatever.

“Are Mom and Dad in?” he finally asks, and I make myself smile, my eyebrows raising automatically.

“Nope. Mom just stepped out, and Dad had to go to the office on short notice.”

“Good,” Ben sighs shakily, and his posture relaxes notably. 

So maybe I’m not the only reason why he’s upset today…

I let the single word simmer, nodding slowly, before I echo, “Good?”

Ben nods again, back to hugging his arms, looking around behind the counter like he’s searching for something.

“You cleaned out those cabinets.” He says it almost like he’s bummed.

“Earlier this week,” I tilt my head, trying to get a better look at his face, which seems to be growing increasingly skittish, a slight redness making itself clear under his white skin. 

“Are…you okay, little bro?”

He just sighs, looking at the blasé cover of the book I left on the counter as he sands his designer jeans with the palms of his hands.

“I’m sorry I missed my shifts earlier this week, Dominic,” he mumbles, but he’s not looking at me. “And…then I come in so late when it’s your day off, and you should be resting. I can switch with you-”

“It’s fine,” I smile so he’ll know it’s okay to relax.

Or…I think it is. I’m just confused.

Smile. Don’t let this descend into awkward silence.

I make myself laugh, and Ben looks up at me as I clap him on the shoulder.

“Look, little dude, I know college is hectic. I mean, I only know that from TV and what Cocoa tells me, but that’s why we need someone who can be more flexible and cover for everybody else, right?”

“Yeah, but it defeats the point of me offering to help so you wouldn’t be so overworked.” 

There’s that sad puppy face again, and I almost don’t want to meet his gaze. There’s something so pleading in it that hurts in a prickling, uncomfortable way, churning up the breakfast in my stomach.

I rest my cheek on my hand and slide the book a little closer, brushing my fingers back and forth over its textured cover.

My leg is bouncing again. Stop bouncing for heaven’s sake!

“Well, you don’t have to worry yourself,” I smile briskly, if not a little unnaturally. “Mom and Dad won’t get mad at you.”

“I know!” He kicks his heel against his chair, violently, like he’s almost infuriated by that fact, and all I can do is stare at him. Baffled.

“That’s why some of us…I mean…those of us who they let have a choice…I mean…just me. I guess…”

He sighs for a minute staring at the ground with one hand in his hair, his frustration mellowing into confused exhaustion.

Maybe I should say something, but I’m not sure what, when I can’t relate and he knows I can’t relate. Or he can’t relate. And that’s the…problem?

“I’ll at least try to take some shifts,” he mutters. “If I don’t, they’ll just tell you to pick up the slack whether you like it or not.”

“True,” I admit lightly, with a cheesy laugh, that I hope will make him smile back. “I guess it’s a good thing that I want to, huh?”

He gives me the tiniest little bit of a smile and shifts his tense posture, stretching his legs out in front of him, before he thinks better of it since his feet can’t reach the floor.

“Still no taller,” he laughs a little, and I see middle school Ben in his face again.

One more of many things I wish I could do over.

“I wouldn’t be expecting any more growth spurts at your age,” I quip, mussing up his hair, and he nods and shakes his head at the same time, laughing.

“Hannah took all the leg genes.”

….?

Hannah…?

I smile, but there’s a bit of unnaturalness in the way he says her name that makes me uncomfortable again, like someone flipped a switch or pushed a button. Maybe it’s just a force of habit thing. 

He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to reply, so I just shrug and nod “yup,” but he seems to deflate again and his smile starts sagging.

Silence.

This would never have had to be a problem if not for…

Stop.

It doesn’t matter. 

We are what we are.

I’m trying. We’re trying. All we can do is try, okay?

We’re no good at this.

They didn’t teach us to be.

But at the very least, I’m no longer the one cutting any one off. Trying to pretend we have nothing to do with each other.

I take a deep breath almost at the exact same moment Ben does, and he prompts, “Um…Dominic? Could I…get your advice on something, please?”

I nod attentively, and he monkeys me, rubbing his hands on his knees, nodding at nothing, before taking another notable breath - this one clipped at the end - and blurting out as quickly as he can:

“I’m going to skip Mom and Dad’s open house this year.”

I open my mouth and he holds his hand up before I can say something.

“...Because…I…have a date.”

It spills out, but I cover my mouth quickly before I can keep laughing.

“Dominic!” Ben pouts, making almost the exact same face Cocoa does.

“I’m sorry,” I chuckle. “But dude, you had me all tense like you were planning to rob a bank or something. What are you 6? You don’t need to be awkward about liking somebody.”

He keeps frowning, so I sigh-out my last laugh and force some composure as he rolls his eyes at me, muttering in a deep, guttural tone, “What are you six?”

“I do not sound like that,” I start laughing again.

“You wouldn’t know. Our voices sound different in our own heads,” he sticks his tongue out, “Now can you please focus for ten seconds? Please?”

“Yes,” I promise, zipping my lips with my right hand, “No more laughing. I swear. Good for you, Benjamin. I’m happy you’re going on a date. It’s about time one of us actually got a partner-”

At that he holds his hand up again, and I close my mouth immediately, confused by the exasperated, or exhausted, expression I see washing over his face as he shakes his head. 

“Stop. No one is getting a partner, and Mom could get back at any minute, so I need you to listen to me. Mom is going to flip if she knows...when…if she…”

He sighs and tries to start over, “Mom and Dad both. They’ll both flip. Though, you know. Dad isn’t Mom level. It’s still not…I’m rambling…”

A third sigh and he presses his hands together, resting them on his lips.

“This is impossible!”

“Sorry, you get it from me.”

“I really do. You’re the worst rambler out of all of us,” he groans with a playfully accusing frown. “So listen, the thing is, this girl is from Puerto Rico.”

My eyebrows go up, but I have sense enough not to say anything.

“Yeah, I know. I know, okay? But I didn’t want to turn her down since she asked me out first.”

That rings wrong. 

I feel myself frown just slightly as I try to ask without any grain of assumption in my voice, “Is that the only reason?”

Ben starts to roll his eyes like he thinks I’m goading him but when he realizes that I’m dead serious, he just closes his eyes, like he has to gather his strength before he tries to say anything.

The front doorbell rings.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

We both look toward the door at the same instant as Mom makes her way toward the counter rapidly, like she forgot something, rummaging through her oversized Ralph Lauren purse with her free hand. The other hand is full of papers that look like bills.

Please please tell me she’s not giving those to me…

“Good afternoon, Mom,” Ben offers after a second, when she hasn’t looked up and noticed him.

The instant she hears his voice I feel sick to my stomach.

I watch her face brighten like someone turned on a light bulb as she forgets all about whatever was in her purse and the bills in her hand.

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! You were able to get a minute off. But why did you come here? You should be resting,” she frets like an anxious hen. “You’ve been studying so hard for the last month, and you’re losing weight from the stress. What are you eating?”

She cups his white cheek in her own fair hand and inspects him like she’s looking for some bruise a particularly cutthroat homework assignment might have left on him out of malice.

“You’ve been eating those awful cup noodles again, haven’t you?” she scolds affectionately, “I keep telling you to come home and get a real meal.”

“Ohh, but I rarely have the time, unfortunately,” he smiles through his discomfort, and I feel his eyes itching to look toward me as I slip off my stool and go to the front to straighten up some shelves.

“Ahh, yes yes. But you’ll be graduating soon, and then you’ll be done with all the anxiousness of preparing for your finals, at least,” Mom nods sympathetically.

“Yep, and I’ll have more time to help around the store, hopefully. Maybe one weekend a month,” Ben raises his eyebrows jauntily.

Is he copying me?

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mom waves her hand dismissively, “Dominic has the store covered.”

“Just Dominic?” Ben starts to glance in my direction, as I motion aggressively for him to ignore me.

“Yes, just Dominic,” Mom rolls her eyes, her red mouth twisting into an acidic frown. “Those good-for-nothing sisters of yours never do anything. I don’t know how you two turned out so well. The only obedient children and grandchildren out of the whole lot.”

Oh, so now I “turned out well.”

Why doesn’t that even feel like a compliment?

Probably half because it’s just a dig at the girls, unless she’s really expecting our three year old cousin to help around the store, and half because it feels like shackling me to a burden I took on willingly. Taking the autonomy out of my decision.

I’m choosing to help. I don't HAVE to help. This isn’t me being ‘obedient’ like a trained dog. 

I’m not sweeping floors and running the front desk and doing all the paperwork for this ice cold grocery store for little more than minimum wage because I don’t have other options.

I’m doing it because I love my grandpa, even if they won’t let me see him, and he loves me.

Something Mom and Dad can’t say for themselves.

But it’s not like I didn’t have other options. 

Even if they think I’m just a lazy, uneducated bum they still can’t deny that.

I make my way back to the counter, with a package of cough drops just as Mom starts to turn in my direction and Ben stands up like he’s ready to leave.

“Bills,” Mom says flatly, holding the papers in her hands out to me. “Water, electric and wifi for the store.”

“I wasn’t in charge of the bills,” I say wearily, even as my hand reaches out to take them.

“How should I know what your father assigned you? He just told me to tell you to get them taken care of,” she throws her hands up in the air with that same posture Cocoa uses and makes her way to the door, muttering half to me and half to herself, “You all can’t expect me to keep track of everything for you.”

I barely hear her.

My gaze makes its way down to the huge stack of bills, most of which are due in less than a week, if not overdue, and I feel the heaviness settle on my shoulders again, if it ever left.

Maybe I just got distracted.

Grandpa would be heartbroken if he saw these. 

For as long as I can remember he’s prided himself on never missing a payment, never taking out a loan or being in debt to anyone, but since his Parkinson’s has taken a turn for the worse the whole structure he’s built his life on seems to have shattered.

If it hadn’t…

How long were these sitting in his mailbox before Dad found them?

I can’t even begin to imagine.

I just wish we could have had one more year. Time enough for Honey and I to finish putting Cocoa through school, for Honey to quit smoking for real. Then one of us could have stayed with him instead of leaving him to be cared for by the strangers, however qualified they might be, that Dad hired.

I really really want to go see him.

I miss him so much.

Maybe he could help me make sense of some of this craziness in my head.

Maybe he couldn’t. I know he couldn’t. But that doesn’t make any difference.

Maybe it’s nice just to be in the presence of someone who wants us around, even if he can barely get out an encouraging…anything…these days. Even if he’s our grandfather, not our father. 

I’d really just like to hear a “thank you.” “I’m proud of you.” To help me get through all this.

Heaven knows I’ll never hear it from Dad.

And I’d bring him some of his roses. 

I’m sure everyone else has forgotten about them.