10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Thinking work would be awkward, Gabriel should have known that Alan was a professional and wouldn’t allow it to be. He greeted Gabriel with a smile and handshake, said a cheery hello to Brandon, and went on his way.

With no sleep, Gabriel thought his other clients would suffer, but their wish lists were much more specific, and Gabriel had his recommendations to Steve before lunch.

Three were sent back, but one was because it wasn’t taken out and had already been sent to another client. “As for records around here, not that we keep them,” Steve said with a wink, “you are far ahead.”

“You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not. You’re doing a great job, Gabriel.”

Before he went to the basement on his lunch break, he called one of the therapists the boys had seen right after the deaths. Making an appointment for each of his brothers, and yes, even one for himself, he ended the call and sat back in the desk chair, yawning.

“Wake up,” Alan said as he came into the room. “Just kidding.”

“Hey. How are you?”

“Tired! But I’m good. I’ve made some great connections this morning with another consortium in Boston. We’re doing some art exchanges this weekend, so I’ve placed a hold on certain pieces I’ll offer them. I’ll have Steve come and download the updated files for you after lunch.”

“All that, after not a wink of sleep? Are you a robot?”

“Yes! I am, and not only that, but I’ve also been in the daycare for over an hour. Brandon is hung up on division!”

“I know. I hate it.”

“I excel at it and gave him a bunch of tricks. He’s smiling, so it would be a good time to go see him.”

“I was just heading down.”

Gabriel stood, and they were close, Alan staring into his eyes for a moment before he excused himself to get his own lunch going.

Gabriel had remembered to pack their lunch, so he took Brandon from daycare and sat with him on the metal bench in front of the building. It was too beautiful a day to be stuck inside.

Gabriel asked Brandon about his tutor as they ate the bologna sandwiches and chips. “Alan told me he taught you a few tricks.”

“He’s good at math! Yeah, he taught me some stuff.”

“I’m glad. He’s a nice guy.”

“Gave you a job, yeah, he’s nice. He made a terrible Santa, though.”

“Why?”

“Mexican Santa?”

Gabriel stared at Brandon in amazement. “Brandon, we’re Mexican too, you know.”

“Yeah, and? Everyone knows the story of Santa, and he’s from all up there in Switzerland or whatever white place is up there.”

He almost choked as he heard that and asked, “White place?”

“Yeah! With all the snow,” Brandon said, rolling his eyes like it was dumb for Gabriel to ask.

He should have known. Racism was taught, not ingrained from birth. Darlene had been adamant that her kids were respectful of all races. “Oh, right. The snow.”

“Yeah, so how Tristan thought he was, I don’t know. I told him about it.”

“Tristan?”

“No,” he groaned. “Alan! I told him to find a white guy to play Santa next time.”

“How’d you know about the Santa story?”

“Tiktok.”

Of course…

“So, you’re feeling better?”

Brandon side-eyed him. “I’m okay. I’m not nuts or anything.”

“God, you’re years smarter than you should be.”

“Is that bad?”

Gabriel smiled at him. “No, buddy, it’s not. You’ve been through more than most kids twice your age, so it fits. I, uh, made an appointment for all of us at Dr. Gresham’s office.”

He’d tried to say it matter-of-factly, so it didn’t seem like a big deal, then watched his brother’s reaction. There was none at first. Then he shrugged one shoulder. And in the immortal words of Brandon came that favorite of his. “’kay.”

Unwilling to push, he handed Brandon the rest of his chips. “Here. I need to watch the waistline.”

“Why? You have a thing for Alan still?”

Gabriel laughed. “You are not tactful.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“Right now, Brandon, I have all I can handle. I want to be a good brother to you and Tristan. That comes first.”

“Don’t blame us if you’re too chicken to let him know.”

A mischievous grin bloomed on Brandon’s lips, and Gabriel loved seeing it. “I’m not chicken. I’ll…think about that when I know the three of us are okay. Is that all right with you?”

“You sound like Tristan when he’s making up bullshit to get out of eating his broccoli.”

“Language, Brandon!”

“That’s barely a bad word!”

Years and years older than his age.

He got back to work after drinking two cups of Alan’s favorite espresso to prevent himself from falling asleep at his desk. He then chose two paintings from the expressionist files.

As he looked through the files, some paintings didn’t make sense to him. They were distorted faces, a beach scene upside down with the sky flowing into the water.

Then, he let himself feel the art, the lines, the faces, and the emotion the artist placed into each stroke of their brush.

Steve came in to see Gabriel scrolling slowly and sat in the other chair, looking over what Gabriel had chosen. “How many are you picking?”

“I think four. Should I do more?”

“Five at most. If you give some people a lot of choices, at times, it confuses them. We’ve lost a few when we first started by doing that. Narrow, then send a few more if the first aren’t right. Seems to work better.”

“Okay, cool.”

He placed them in the email and sat back, feeling accomplished. “All this on no sleep.”

“No sleep? What happened?”

Unwilling to tell the truth, he said, “Just one of those nights.”

Things continued like that for the next two weeks. He and Alan kept their distance, but not completely. He was still sweet, checked on him daily, and stared into his eyes in the way he had, which made Gabriel warm all over.

Brandon apologized to the little boy he hit and was allowed back to the school, and they started therapy, with Brandon finally talking.

The jar for the drone contained seventy-three dollars, and Gabriel had to stop himself from buying it early. It was good that Brandon was working for it.

Things were good, but he was still missing something, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know what it was. Well, who it was.

Seeing Alan at work each day was hard. Remembering those arms wrapped around him was torture. The warmth, how safe he finally felt after freefalling for months…

He went into the daycare one Saturday to visit the boys. Karen Mallory asked him specifically to find him another four pieces for a fellow architect. The asks were harder, but he was getting more confident in his picks. He planned to take the boys to get ice cream after lunch, feeling badly that he had to work on a weekend day they usually spent together.

Walking in to see Brandon and Alan together wasn’t strange. Alan had helped Brandon a lot with his math, so much so that Brandon was acing the tests he took before school was let out for winter break.

Having both of the boys home was great. They loved the daycare when Gabriel had to work, but Alan was taking it easy on him so he could spend more time at home.

Tristan was coming along nicely in therapy and was talking a lot about his parents. Brandon was too, and Gabriel felt good but still empty. Yes, he was dealing with losing his mom, but he felt like he was losing Alan, too.

As Christmas neared and the wrapped gifts began to appear under the tree, Gabriel watched with the greatest joy as Tristan sat staring at them each evening. He’d reach for them, and Gabriel would tell him, no touching, making him giggle.

“Let him shake them! Stop being so mean,” Brandon scolded.

Gabriel was shocked that Brandon was sticking up for Tristan, so he allowed it. “Fine, but not hard, okay? You don’t want to…break your socks.”

“Socks! I don’t want socks!”

“If you bought us socks, we’d make you eat the tree,” Brandon warned.

“Go shake and let Catnip and me rest.”

Catnip had taken to sitting on his lap whenever he was sitting. She’d only done that to Darlene, ever. Perhaps she, too, was healing. He ran a hand over her soft fur. The rumble of her purring was mellowing.

Brandon and Tristan went through each of the presents, shaking and making guesses about what the package might hold. “I got dinos!”

“You can’t tell that by shaking it.”

“Can so!”

Brandon looked over the packages, and Gabriel could tell he wanted the drone to be there. Gabriel planned on shopping for the last of their gifts the next day. He was getting the damn drone.

Sure, it was bad, making the deal and caving, but Brandon had gone above and beyond with his chores and his schoolwork. He deserved a treat.

As for Tristan, he found not one, but two remote control dinosaurs that lit up, roared, and even breathed “fire”, that was really mist. It would be a great Christmas, as far as presents went, but even the therapist said it would be a hard day for them.

For all of them.

“This one feels like socks, Gabriel,” Brandon called, holding up a package that was really a hoodie he’d liked at the mall the day they’d gone to see Santa.

Santa…

“That’s because it is. I told you that you’re getting socks. The rest of the presents are all just junk I found around the house to make noise.”

Tristan turned to him, his mouth wide open in awe, but Brandon just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Gabe, you’re just mean!”

“I know, huh? Catnip told me to.”

“He’s lying, Tristan.”

Tristan wagged his finger at Gabriel. “Lying is bad, bad! Go to your room.”

“I’m in my room!”

“Oh. ‘kay.”

Brandon left his presents and came to sit by him. “I guess, you know…you should have the other room.”

“Honey, I’m fine down here.”

“I don’t wanna do it, you know, help clean the stuff out of there.”

Gabriel had to take it very carefully. “Bran, um…I can do it, sure, but…how will I know what you and Tristan might want to keep for later, you know? I mean, he was your dad, not mine.”

“I thought about it. Put it in the basement. We keep other stuff down there, right? Mom even had all our school stuff and baby clothes and crap.”

Gabriel grabbed his hand and said, “Yeah, okay. We’ll save it all, and when you and Tristan are grown up, you can go through them.”

Brandon nodded slowly, then got up and started for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to be alone. I’m not gonna throw stuff.”

“Okay, buddy.”

His chest hurt with the sadness the exchange had given him, and he wished again for Alan’s arms, soft words, and steady, strong countenance. He needed to be held again and told things would be okay.

“Tristan, you ready for your bath, buddy?”

“Okay,” he said and got up, smiling as he started telling Gabriel all about what he thought was in each and every package. Gabriel soon let the lingering memory of the night with Alan slip away as he watched his brother playing with the bubbles in the bathtub.