“I’d love a woman to make me a sandwich once in a while,” Dwayne says. “It’s been a long time since any of us had a woman to do more than…” He pauses as though he’s just remembered he’s talking to me rather than just shooting the shit with his brothers. If I didn’t know about their history, I’d find that comment really misogynistic, but instead, Dwayne’s desire for a woman to care for him is just sad. It’s the way I feel about the man-sized gap in my life. I wish I knew more about their individual situations. Do these guys remember their mom? Was she a good mom or a bad mom? Did she care for them or neglect them? I know there’s a folder back at the house that will tell me everything but I’m not sure that looking at their personal documents is fair. Maybe they’ll tell me in time.
“Are you saying my sandwiches aren’t good enough for you?” Donovan says.
“Nah, your sandwiches are decent enough.”
“That doesn’t sound much like praise,” I laugh.
“He’s always searching for compliments,” Dwayne grumbles.
As I gaze out of the window, taking in the treelined streets and wide-spaced houses, I can’t help but compare it to home. There’s so much more land here, which makes it feel less urban and less pressured. Our house is crammed in on both sides and our yards are like postage stamps. The walls are thin, and we can sometimes hear our neighbor rip one in the middle of the night. It’s why Mom was so angry at Cathy for shouting because she knew everyone in the surrounding houses would have heard every word of her criticism. Here, you could probably shoot your family, and no one would be any the wiser.
“We can’t stay the whole day,” Donovan tells me. “We’ve gotta head to the practice fields this afternoon. You can come watch or you can stay with your uncle. We’ll come pick you up if you decide to stay.”
“I guess I’ll play it by ear,” I say. “See what Walter needs. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Donovan turns up the volume, blaring the music. It’s not a track I’m familiar with but the words seem to click with the boys because they all start singing along. It’s about the grind; working hard to achieve your dreams.
“See, this is what it’s all about,” Dwayne says.
“We’ve just got to keep on trying,” Daryl says.
“Make Dad proud,” Donovan adds, glancing at me.
“What’s going to make Dad proud?” I ask.
Donovan nods, rubbing his hand over his stubbly chin, eyes glowing with whatever he’s thinking about. “He wanted at least one of us to make it the NFL,” he says. “It’s what we’ve all been working toward because with all of us playing, it’s motivation and competition. That’s what Dad said anyway. If we all keep pushing in the same direction, at least one of us is going to reach the top.”
“And when we do, we look after all of us. It’s a team dream,” Dwayne says, turning his head to talk to me directly.
“So who’s closest to the top?” I ask.
“Logan,” Dwayne says. “And Daryl.”
“Shit, I’m not higher than you,” Daryl says as though the idea that he might be separated from his brothers is too much for him to handle.
“It’s okay,” Donovan says. “We just keep on pushing. It’s in the hands of the higher power.”
I fold my hands in my lap and smile at their dreams. From a distance, my eleven stepbrothers come across as brash jocks. The kind of men who would shout out of the window at a woman on the street. And maybe they have a little of that about them, but it’s not everything that they are. Getting to know them all is like peeling an onion. There’s layer upon layer, and each layer draws me closer rather than pushing me away.
“I’m not sure I believe in a higher power,” I say. “Life’s too hard. There’s too much tragedy and loss.”
Donovan reaches out and takes my hand. “If we didn’t know hardship, we would never truly appreciate joy,” he says. “The journey doesn’t have to be smooth to teach us the lessons we need to learn.”
“You think it’s about lessons?” I ask.
“Sure. We’re not put on this planet to sit in front of the TV eating fast food. We’re here to explore, to strive, to love. We’re here to go further than our parents, and to help our kids go further still.”