Brees—Jaycen as Linda Ames had called him—was paralyzed and broken and wouldn’t be able to hurt me like he had previously.
A thought occurred to me then, and I reached for my phone to text Sin.
Blaise: So I had something weird happen today. I’m okay. I called you to talk it out, but now I’m going to take a nap instead. Just sayin’, but if I don’t answer my phone—I put it on silent—I’m okay. Also, make sure that you bring dessert with whatever you bring home for dinner tonight. I’m going to need it.
Grinning at what he would think when he saw that text, I dropped it back down onto the bed beside me, then rethought my original thought and picked it back up.
I then went into the group chat that my brother and father hated, then texted them all.
Blaise: I’m taking a nap. So help me God, if you wake me up from it with a call or a text, I might very well maim you in your sleep. Night. Love you.
My brother answered immediately.
Johnny: What the fuck is wrong with you? I would never call or text during your nap time.
Lies.
I took a nap every single weekend at the same time—because those were really my only times that naps were possible until today—and if any of my family couldn’t get ahold of me, they tended to lean toward freaking out.
I quickly scrolled upward to the weekend where I’d forgotten to text them, and my dad had threatened to come to my house and make sure I was all right. Then I went further to the weekend before it when my brother had done the same thing.
After taking a few screen shots, I sent them to them.
The one with my brother was funnier.
Johnny: Blaise, let’s go get something to eat. I need a break from my kids.
Johnny: Blaise, why aren’t you answering me? My wife went to Target with the kids. She’ll get back any second and I want to be with you and have you as an excuse not to come home, before she does.
Johnny: Are you alive?
Johnny: Oh my God. It’s been an hour. I’m about to come over there.
Johnny: I see your car in the driveway. What the hell are you doing in there?
Johnny: I can see you sleeping. You sleep really ugly. Your mouth is open and everything. And when did you get that shirt? That’s mine. I’ve been looking for it everywhere.
Johnny: I texted June and told her that you were scared, so now I’m going to sit on your front porch and drink this beer that’s in the outside fridge until you wake up.
Johnny: You’re out of beer.
Johnny: Don’t worry. I went to the corner store up the street and bought more. Good news is your fridge is now restocked. Bad news is, I had to break into your place because I really had to take a shit. Sorry if the smell wakes you.
Johnny: You need a new television. This one blows.
Johnny: I had to take my pants off. Don’t freak-out when you walk out here. They were too constricting after I ate the sandwich that was in your fridge.
Johnny: I gotta go back home now. I checked to see if you were still alive, too. You are. Just an FYI, you should probably get an alarm system. It was way too easy to get in here.
Mom: Johnny, so help me God. I’m working. Shut the fuck up.
Dad: Thank fucking God someone said it. And make sure you have your pants back on when you ride home. You could get arrested for that.
Mom: As long as he’s wearing underwear, I doubt it. Love you.
Johnny: I love you, too.
Mom: Wasn’t talking to you. Not that I don’t love you, because I do, but I was directing that toward your father.
Johnny: That’s just wrong.
Mom: That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Love your child’s parent first and foremost. It makes life so much better. That way he or she knows that they’re first in your relationship.
Johnny: I think that you’re supposed to love your kids more.
Mom: Why?
Johnny: That’s just the way it is. Kids first.
Mom: If you say so.
I didn’t bother to read any more than that, because that discussion had degraded from there.
But I did agree with my mom—at least somewhat.
Though I knew that I’d love my kids, I had a feeling that Sin would always come first with me.
Johnny: Whatever. You should really think about getting a security system.
Me: I do have one