long as she could remember, whenever she was scared or nervous, or overwhelmed, he’d look her straight in the eye and say, “You got this.” Whether it was being afraid to fall asleep because she was having nightmares, facing a bully at school, or even being taken away by a social worker after being told her mother was dead, all her brother had to do was lock eyes with her and say, “You got this” and she believed him.
Whenever Patrick said that phrase she was instantly infused with confidence. Whatever she was facing suddenly wasn’t as terrifying. For the first few months after his death, all she’d had to do was close her eyes and she could see and hear him saying those three magic words. Lately, though, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.
The dryer buzzed loudly downstairs and she pushed off the wall, wiped her tear-stained cheeks, and put one foot in front of the other, just like she’d been doing for the past year and a half.
As she started down the stairs, she saw her other nephew, Patrick Benjamin Walsh Jr. sitting at the kitchen table reading The Lord of the Rings.
When the twins were born, Patrick named his first born after himself and when KJ showed up ten minutes later he named him after his best friend Kade. The boys were called Ricky and KJ so as not to confuse them with Patrick and Kade version 1.0.
Ricky had always taken after Patrick and had grown to be the spitting image of him with his huge hazel eyes and light brown hair. Every day he looked more and more like his dad. Luckily, he had his dad’s temperament as well. He was calm, hardworking, always ready to help if anyone needed him, and a frequent flyer on the honor roll.
In a strange, and in her opinion cruel, twist of fate, KJ had taken after his namesake as well. From his dark hair and green eyes to his rebellious attitude; his affinity for all things sports-related and total lack of interest in school.
The two of them reminded Ali so much of her brother and Kade at their age. Tears started to threaten her eyes again, but she sniffed them back.
“Hey, Ricky!” she greeted him sounding as chipper and upbeat as she could.
“Hey,” he answered, his focus still on his book.
She grabbed a pair of KJ’s shoes that had been left in the middle of the kitchen floor. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d asked him to clean up after himself, especially his shoes since his size thirteens were a serious tripping hazard, but it was like talking to a brick wall. She set them in a cubby off of the mudroom and saw Ricky’s science project sitting on the folding card table.
“Wow, this looks great!” she exclaimed.
Ricky had been working so hard on his project for weeks. He’d hypothesized the best designs for skyscrapers, drawn up blueprints, and then built mini-models out of Legos.
“Thanks.”
His monotone response didn’t surprise her. He didn’t get happy…or upset about much of anything.
She ruffled his hair as she passed by him on her way to start dinner. “How does Hamburger Helper sound?”
“Fine,” his answer was flat and automatic.
She was pretty sure she could’ve asked how cauliflower and cabbage sounded and his answer would’ve been the same.
It might seem in a side-by-side comparison that Ricky sitting in the well-lit kitchen, reading a book and being polite was more well-adjusted than KJ holed up in a dark, dingy, room staring at a screen, and being disrespectful, but out of the two boys she wasn’t sure which one worried her most.
At least KJ expressed himself, even if it wasn’t in a healthy or productive way. Ricky held everything in. He was quiet, did his homework, helped her at the rental shop, and always did his chores without being asked.
For the first few months after Patrick died, she was so grief-stricken and Ricky’s easy demeanor was a blessing compared to his brother’s. She never had to worry about him getting in a fight, flunking a class, or being detained for destruction of property. But lately she’d grown more concerned. Both boys were in therapy, but she wasn’t sure it was helping. Or maybe she wasn’t doing enough. Maybe she was failing them both.
Her mind was consumed with doubt as she bent down and retrieved her six-quart pot and set it in the sink and turned on the water. As she watched the water rise