Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,62
and her eyes sparkled as they always did. Full of life.
“Has he been having seizures?” I asked, my brain working to figure out why on earth poor Buster needed headgear.
“Nope.” Jenny moved toward Poindexter whose eyes had taken on a distinct gleam of panic.
“What are you doing?” My voice climbed several octaves.
“It’s for his own good.”
With that, Elizabeth’s sippy cup flew into the air, landing squarely on Buster’s head. Without the helmet, I imagined the cup full of milk would have hurt like hell. With the helmet, the dog merely blinked before he resumed begging.
I looked at Poindexter and shrugged. “When in Rome, buddy.”
As Jenny strapped on the orange helmet, Poindexter’s big brown eyes bore right through me.
No wonder the poor thing had wanted to stay in the car.
I leaned down to his level and whispered in his ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”
By the time he’d snarfed down five pieces of cake, he’d gotten over the whole helmet aversion.
As for me, I’d stopped after two pieces, choosing to drop back a bit from the center of activity. I leaned one hip against the kitchen counter, shifting my attention from the party table to the beautiful afternoon outside.
As the party progressed, I could say I tried to talk myself out of a confrontation with my brother, but that would be a bold-faced lie.
The truth was, I couldn’t wait to get him alone, to corner him. The problem was going to be how to do that surrounded by fifteen toddlers, Jenny, my mother and two dogs in safety helmets.
Yet, as fate would have it, the attendees began to topple like little exhausted dominos. Hyped up on birthday cake and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they slowly succumbed, their blood glucose levels plummeting before my eyes.
One by one they were carried out by politely smiling parents who no doubt couldn’t wait to return the favor at their child’s next party.
When Jenny disappeared upstairs carrying a party-weary Elizabeth in her arms, I made my move.
My mother vanished into the kitchen, trying to clean up the party mess in order to help Jenny. I supposed I should have done the same thing, but instead I stalked Mark like a lion working a desert watering hole, trailing him out into the backyard and the waning warmth of the afternoon sun.
He’d snagged a bottle of beer from the fridge as soon as the last guest left and took a long swallow as he turned to face me, his eyebrows pulling together. He lowered the bottle, and pursed his lips.
“Spill it.” He gave a quick shrug, daring me with his angry expression.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, as if I didn’t know exactly what he meant.
“It means, you’ve had a bug up your ass since you walked in the door, and I’m guessing it’s got nothing to do with making your dog wear a helmet.”
I squinted at him, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the slant of the afternoon sun. “You have to admit it’s a bit much.”
“It’s been a long day. Get to the point, Bernie.”
His tone angered me. His stance angered me. At that particular moment in my life, his breathing angered me.
Was this what we’d missed all those years we hadn’t lived together as brother and sister? Maybe all the time I’d spent regretting our lost opportunities for sibling bonding would have been better spent being thankful we lived apart.
Apparently, proximity didn’t bring out the best in either one of us.
“Why won’t you do it?” I asked, waving one hand wildly into the air.
“What?” He tipped his beer bottle to his lips, his gaze narrowing.
“You know exactly what.” I took a step closer. “Why can’t you go to Mom’s house and pick a damned jacket?”
He blinked, surprise splashing across his features.
What had he expected me to say? Surely he knew he’d let Mom down. He’d let her down ever since that first moment we’d stared into Dad’s closet together.
“Are you kidding me?” Now it was Mark’s turn to step closer. “That’s why you’re so pissed off at me?”
I nodded. “Can’t you see you’re hurting Mom? Why won’t you do it? Don’t you want one of Dad’s jackets?”
He blinked again. “I do, I’m just...it’s just...”
“Are you scared?” I could tell by the way his features tensed I was treading on dangerous turf. “I can’t believe you’re scared.”
He frowned then, taking in a deep breath then slowly releasing it.