Family Kitchen Box Set

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Streetlights slid up the windshield of their neighbor’s car as they drove through town. Justin sat in the back of the car, holding a whimpering Scarlett, as the neighbor drove. They didn’t have a car seat—another thing for Justin to feel like a failure about, since he could have brought the one from his shitty car—but at least they were on their way to the hospital now. Wyatt and Harper were in the back with him. Harper was staring resolutely out the window at the closed up storefronts they passed.

Justin cleared his throat. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s not a problem,” the guy said, and Justin wished he could remember his name. Was it Dale? Darryl? He’d said it, back at his house, but Justin had missed it because he’d been having a goddamn breakdown or whatever the f**k that was. The guy had a nice voice, low and calm like he was talking to some spooked animal, and Justin wondered if it always sounded like that, or if Justin really was that pathetic. Yeah, probably the second one.

Justin sneaked a glance at the guy as they passed under another streetlight. He was maybe in his late thirties, though Justin was never great at judging age. He had a dark beard that hid the planes of his face, and long hair pulled back into a messy bun. More hipster than biker though, Justin decided. His dark hair was a little gray at the temples, and there were flashes of silver in his beard.

The guy caught Justin’s gaze in the rear view mirror and Justin looked down, his face burning, and rubbed Scarlett’s back gently.

He had nice eyes, Justin thought. Kind eyes.

It was only a short drive to the hospital. Nothing in Enterprise was far away from anything else.

“Thanks,” Justin said when they pulled up in front of the entrance, expecting the guy would just drive off again. Instead, the guy turned the ignition off and got out of the car.

He was taller than Justin, and broader as well, and Justin felt like a little kid as the guy ushered them into the hospital. He felt, not small exactly, but safe, like with this guy beside him everything would be okay. And that had to be his sleep deprivation and his stress talking, because Justin had been on his own since he was fifteen. He wasn’t a little kid who needed protection from the big bad world. He hadn’t been that in a long time.

Tonight was the f*****g exception, okay? Tonight had been a disaster, but usually Justin wasn’t like that. His stomach clenched and his face burned at the thought of how he’d basically collapsed in a puddle of tears on his neighbor’s front porch, but from now on he was keeping his s**t together.

A woman in pink pastel scrubs met them in the waiting room and thrust a clipboard towards the neighbor.

“She’s sick,” Justin said. “She didn’t stop screaming for hours, and now she’s like this.”

“Okay,” the woman said. She looked at the neighbor. “You get started on these forms, and we’ll take a look at the little one.”

The neighbor opened his mouth, and then closed it again and nodded. He took a seat in the waiting room. “Go on,” he said to Justin. “We’ll be waiting right here for you.”

Justin trailed after the nurse, throwing a worried look back over his shoulder. The neighbor was sitting in a chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his clipboard discarded on the chair beside him. Wyatt was sitting in the chair beside that one, silent and watchful as always. Harper was pacing, her face like thunder.

Would they…would they be okay with the guy?

“Okay,” the nurse said, leading Justin around a corner. “Let’s get you ready for the doctor, little one.”

* * * *

It took less than five minutes for the doctor to diagnose Scarlett with an ear infection and give her a dose of something to ease the pain. Ten minutes after she was slumped in Justin’s arms, breathing heavily as she slept. She was as heavy as lead, and so quiet that Justin’s eyes pricked with tears of relief. He listened carefully as the doctor explained how to give her the ibuprofen and amoxicillin he was prescribing her, and shook his head when the doctor asked if she was up to date with her vaccinations.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Probably not. I only just got her. Custody of her, I mean. I only just got that.”

He saw the nurse mouth the word at the doctor: O’Dwyer.

The doctor’s expression shifted into one of realization, and Justin couldn’t help wondering how many times Mom had fronted up here with some imagined pain, writhing and wailing theatrically and seeking drugs.

“I’ll find out,” Justin said, unable to meet the doctor’s gaze. “About the vaccinations.”

Another f*****g thing to add to the list.

When the nurse showed him back out into the waiting room, Harper had given up pacing and was sitting beside Wyatt. The neighbor was reading a magazine, but he put it aside the moment he saw Justin and Scarlett and rose to his feet.

The nurse moved forward to collect the clipboard. Her mouth pursed. “Sir, you haven’t filled any of this in.”

“I don’t actually know these guys,” the neighbor said, a slight smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “Sorry.”

The nurse held the clipboard out to Justin, and he stared at it helplessly for a moment. Like, did she want him to take it in his third hand?

“She okay?” the neighbor asked, waiting for Justin’s nod. “I’ll hold her for a bit.”

Justin bundled Scarlett over to him, his arms feeling impossibly light once he was relieved of her weight, and took the clipboard. There was a lot of stuff on the form that he wasn’t sure how to answer, like the insurance stuff. He thought Emily the social worker had said something yesterday about the kids being on the Oregon Health Plan, but he’d been hit with a deluge of information at the time and he’d already forgotten most of it again. He’d meant to go through all the paperwork, but he hadn’t had time yet because everything was still too much. He’d barely slept in the past four days, let alone got anything done.

So he wrote in what he thought were the right answers, and f**k it, if he got a bill he’d phone Emily and ask her to help him with everything.

He shoved the clipboard back at the nurse when she came to collect it, and eyed her warily as she slid her gaze down the form.

“You haven’t put in her Social Security number,” the nurse told him.

“I don’t know it,” he said. “It’s at home.”

The nurse pursed her lips, like that answer somehow wasn’t good enough and if she just waited Justin would suddenly blurt the number out.

“I don’t know it,” Justin repeated. “I told you, I just got custody.” His voice hitched. “Our mom only died four days ago.”

Beside him, he felt the neighbor straighten up. Justin couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t bear the weight of someone else’s pity right now. Pity or sympathy, or that strange sort of look the nurse was giving him like he was somehow making her sorry for him against her will. Like he was manipulating her into it, because everyone knew the O’Dwyers were a waste of feelings that would be better saved for other people or something.

“I filled in everything I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I can phone back with the other stuff later. It’s all at home.”

The nurse opened her mouth like she was going to argue with him.

“You’ve got the baby’s medicine?” the neighbor asked suddenly, sweeping in to stand beside Justin.

The nurse snapped her mouth shut.

Justin nodded, his throat aching.

“Okay, great,” the neighbor said. He smiled tightly at the nurse. “I’m going to take these guys home now, and you can call Justin tomorrow if you need anything else. Good night!”

And then he put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and steered him out the door before the nurse could say anything else. Harper and Wyatt hurried along behind them.

“Thanks,” Justin said numbly as they headed for the neighbor’s car.

“It’s no problem,” the neighbor said. “I’ve been dealing with a messy divorce for the past couple of years. Trust me, I know how to stonewall someone.” He smiled, and this time it felt real, genuine. This time it made the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkle, and Justin’s heart tumbled over a few beats. The neighbor shook his head ruefully. “Government bureaucracy has nothing on my ex-husband, believe me.”

Ex-husband. Husband. Husband. Husband.

Justin’s brain caught on that one word—so casual, so normal, but so breathtakingly terrifying at the same time—all the way home. He knew he was weird and awkward about it, because he didn’t get another genuine smile from the neighbor after that. Just the same one that he’d given the nurse at the hospital whenever Justin mumbled an answer to something he asked. His voice though, was still kind when he dropped them off in front of the house.

“If you need anything, you know where I am.”

* * * *

Justin knew he was asleep, but he didn’t care. He knew he was dreaming, because this time the neighbor didn’t say ‘If you need anything…” This time the neighbor said, his voice a low, husky whisper, “I know what you need, baby” and gave it to him. He splayed his fingers against Justin’s bare chest, his hands big and capable, and pulled him back tightly against him so that Justin could feel his d**k—hot, hard, huge—pressing against his ass, and Justin was allowed to have this. He was allowed, because this wasn’t real, but at the same time it was exactly what he needed.

He was asleep, but not all the way. He was vaguely aware of the sunlight making cascading patterns of light on the walls from the way the branches shifted in the trees outside. He was aware enough to close his eyes and sink further into the fantasy, grinding his d**k against the mattress to chase the friction.

In his dream, the neighbor dipped his face against the curve where Justin’s neck met his shoulder and kissed him there, and his beard was soft and scratchy at the same time and Justin whimpered and moaned as he melted into the sensation.

“That’s it,” the neighbor crooned. “I’ve got you.”

Justin learned back, pushing his ass against the hardness of the neighbor’s erection. He was buzzing with sensation, every nerve in his body simultaneously numb and alight. He felt like he was drunk, or high. He wanted to turn around, to face the man, to kiss him, but a part of him knew that would break the spell, and Justin wanted to live here in this fantasy for as long as possible. He moaned, the noise made thin and thready with desperation.

“That’s it, baby,” the neighbor said his breath hot against Justin’s throat. “I’ll give you what you need.”

One hand slid down Justin’s torso, fingers skating over Justin’s abdomen and making him flinch back from the tickling sensation. The neighbor laughed, his body vibrating with the sound, and Justin moaned again and squirmed so that the neighbor’s hand dipped lower. His fingers slipped into the low-slung waistband of the sweatpants Justin wore, lower and lower and—

There was a crashing sound from the kitchen, and Justin jolted properly awake. He was hard and aching, and there was a damp patch on his sweatpants and on the sheet. Justin grimaced as he climbed out of bed, tugging his shirt down to hide the wet spot. He willed his erection away, but it took no effort at all. The hard reality of the morning—of his life now—did most of the work for him.

Scarlett was sitting up in her crib, blinking dozily at him.

“Hey,” Justin said, his voice scratchy. “You look a lot better.”

She reached out to be picked up.

There was another noise from the kitchen—a clattering this time. Justin carried Scarlett down the narrow hallway to the back of the house just in time to see Harper drop the broom for a second time as she tried to clean up the smashed glass.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Justin said.

She glared at him, and Wyatt, standing in the middle of the mess, flinched at his tone.

“You’re not in trouble,” he said, wincing as Harper dragged the broom through the mess of glass and orange juice. “But you’re both in bare feet. Just don’t move, and I’ll get my shoes on and get you out of there.”

So much for his wet dream.

Real life was back with a vengeance.

Justin went and set Scarlett back down in her crib to keep her out of the mess. He caught a glimpse of the time on the bedside clock. s**t. Harper was supposed to be ready and waiting for the school bus in ten minutes.

He ignored Scarlett’s outraged yell as he shoved his feet into his shoes and darted back into the kitchen.

He lifted both Wyatt and Harper free of the glass. “Wyatt, go sit in front of the TV or something. Harper, you need to get dressed. Did you have breakfast?”

He wrenched open the cabinets and found a box of granola bars courtesy of the food bank. He threw them, and as much wrapped food as he could find, into Harper’s backpack. How the hell had he forgotten to set his alarm last night? Jesus, it’d be a miracle if Harper didn’t miss the bus.

“Harper!” he yelled. “Hurry up!”

She was back in moments, yelling at him because she had no clean socks. Justin dug through the pile of dirty laundry and found a pair that wasn’t too grubby. Then Harper yelled at him when he tried to do her hair.

“You’re not doing it right!”

“That’s because I don’t know how!” he yelled back at her, wincing when he drew the brush back and discovered it had broken off pieces of her hair.

“I hate you!” she screamed at him, and then grabbed her backpack and bolted out the kitchen door and around the house to the front driveway. Her hair was like a dark frizzy halo around her head.

Justin didn’t follow her. He watched from the front window instead, making sure she climbed on the yellow bus when it turned up only a few seconds after she reached the end of the driveway.

He felt a rush of relief when the door of the bus shuddered closed and Harper was out of his hair for the day.

She was just…she was hurting. He knew that. Of course he did. She was hurting and some guy she didn’t even know walked into her life and tried to tell her what to do when he couldn’t even do anything right himself. He couldn’t even brush her hair without breaking it.

Justin took a deep breath.

Tomorrow he was going to do better. Which was exactly what he’d told himself yesterday, and the day before that. Tomorrow he’d figure out how to deal with Harper without making her mad, and meanwhile today he’d concentrate on looking after Scarlett and maybe even trying to get Wyatt to say something.

But first he had a mess in the kitchen to clean up.

* * * *

Justin wasn’t sure where the hours in the day went. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wasn’t getting on top of anything. He hadn’t even got around to getting the laundry on before Harper got home from school, shoved a note in his hand and stormed off to the living room to watch TV.

Justin blinked down at the note.

Harper’s teacher wanted him to call and schedule a time to come in and talk about Harpers “behavioral issues.”

Justin put the note into one of the kitchen drawers to worry about later. Another thing to add to the ever-growing list. He put it to the back of his mind while the afternoon wore down into dusk. He got the laundry on and remembered to start dinner before it was too late. He bathed Scarlett afterwards and got her into bed by seven. Then he folded laundry in front of the TV until eight and got Harper and Wyatt into bed.

And then the house was quiet, and Justin took a moment to just breathe. To just breathe, and not let everything overcome him. He poured himself a juice and went and sat on the back steps to look at the stars. He found himself closing his eyes instead, and trying to summon the ghost of this morning’s dream. The neighbor’s hands on his body, his voice in his ear. Justin had been impossibly turned on and yet at the same time he’d felt so safe.

He wanted that feeling for real.

Justin let out a long, slow breath and opened his eyes. He stared down at the slope of the dusty backyard to the screen of trees that hid the gully. He imagined walking down through the gully, crossing the field and then following the glow of the porch light all the way to the neighbor’s front door. He pictured the neighbor opening the door, his hair pulled back into a messy bun and his eyes crinkling with a smile, and Justin’s heart beat faster just at the thought of it because he knew he wasn’t brave enough to ever do anything like that. And then his imagination failed him entirely, because even in this fantasy scenario where he had the courage to knock on the neighbor’s door like that, Justin couldn’t think of anything he’d say. Nothing smart, nothing clever, and nothing remotely flirtatious. Anyway, just because the neighbor was gay that didn’t mean he’d want anything to do with Justin. The O’Dwyers were nothing but trouble, nothing but trash, and Justin had proved that last night.

But the fantasy was nice.

Justin watched a raccoon pick its way across the back yard, and then tipped his head back and closed his eyes and imagined the feel of the neighbor’s hands on him.

The fantasy was nice.