Page 37 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“Good. Well, come on in. Give your stuff to Henry to put up in your room. I have to start dinner in the kitchen. Your dad will be home soon.”

Henry is already at my side, taking my bags from me. I run back out to my car to grab the boys’ balls, and then take them out in the backyard before dinner to play a little.

I’ve missed their laughter and smiles…even their fighting. Those boys can argue and fight about anything.

I didn’t have any siblings growing up, so I don’t know if it’s a boy thing, a twin thing, or just a sibling thing, but they can go at it for hours. If one says the sky looks blue, the other will argue that it’s green just because he can, and neither will accept defeat.

We play for what feels like forever, running around the yard, throwing the ball, me teaching them how to catch, them fighting over which ball is theirs, and tiring me the hell out. Their energy is endless. I’ve got stamina, but those boys are little energizerbunnies on crack who never turn off. They tire me out more than any workout or game can.

I bring them back in, and like I’m back on autopilot, I take them upstairs and bathe them, pouring the bubble bath in until it rises higher than the tub and they squeal, laughing. Rose walks in and tells me that she or the nanny would have taken care of them, but I wave her off and tell her it’s no trouble. I miss my routine with them. It’s the only thing that makes me feel at home in a good way.

I wrap them up in their hooded towels and push them into the hallway, telling them to go get their clothes on.

I hear the sound of my dad’s voice downstairs and make a beeline back to my room, avoiding him until I have to see him at dinner.

The boys run into my room not long after, and we spend the next hour watching part of a Marvel movie until Rose comes to find us, telling us to come downstairs for dinner.

They drag me down the stairs and then start running to the table, fighting over the seat they both want, like there aren’t eight other open chairs at the table. I just shake my head and let them battle it out caveman style as I sit down at one of the plated seats.

The mood feels like it shifts instantly when my dad walks into the room. Maybe it’s just my mood, but it fills the room with a heaviness all the same.

“Son,” he says, greeting me.

“Dad,” I nod back with no emotion.

He sits at the head of the table, and Rose places his plate down last before sliding into the seat closest to him. My dad prays over the food, and I almost laugh at the sight.

This man has never opened a Bible before or stepped inside of a church outside of a funeral and a wedding.

I still don’t know how he didn’t get struck down when he did.

He starts asking the boys how their day at school was before looking at me and starting his 21-question game.

“How’s A&M treating you?”

“Good,” I reply.

“How are your grades?”

“Good.”

“Do they have you on the field yet?”

“Yep.”

“How’s the Sig house?”

“Fine.”

“You know, the best years of my life were spent in that house.”

“I bet…”

His smile fades a little after a while, getting annoyed with my tight responses.

“I built a reputation at that school, son,” he tells me. “Don’t embarrass our name now, you hear me?”

I push my fork around my food, trying to be back on that beach, in the water, no worries, no voice in my head telling me all of the ways I’m not good enough around here.