Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

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СКАЧАТЬ a cramped 1970s apartment that hadn’t been renovated since it was built and was notable only in the fact that it was off Alberta, walking distance to the kids’ school and walking or skateboarding distance to the People’s Cup. And they’d given us a lease, unlike Mom and Greg’s place, which had refused to let me take over the rental after they passed. I tried not to think too much about the sunny rental house off Killingsworth with the huge herb garden Mom loved and the basketball hoop where Greg and I would play twenty-one.

      Like Ev and Mira’s apartment, this place had a narrow galley kitchen ending in a small eating area, but where Mira’s was all white wood and homey cheer, ours was dark, with inadequate lighting and mismatched cabinetry. I did, however, do my best to put a hot meal on the table every night and get the kids to sit down with me and eat as a family on the nights when I didn’t work late. Mom had always been huge on dinner together; even as Renee and I got older and busier, she’d made sure we sat down with the family, and I wanted to try to give that to the kids.

      “You took my broccoli!” Morgan whined.

      “Guys. Just eat.” Try being the operative word.

      I usually tried to model good behavior for the kids at the table and not check my phone, but they were sorely testing my patience, so I snuck a peek under the table when it vibrated. There was a new message.

      You were right. The bison bacon burger is divine. It would be more delicious with a bit of conversation, though. And how is your dining?—Ev

      I smiled and hit a quick reply.

      Chicken nuggets with bickering siblings. Wouldn’t mind conversation beyond SpongeBob either.

      Later, while I was doing the dishes, another text came in.

      Now I am home with my new beer purchases. Which is your favorite ale?

      We texted back and forth a bit while I cleaned, talking beer and food. We had similar tastes in food—lots of meat with strong flavors, not into cheese-covered anything, and we were both picky about fries being done right. I liked finding out little details about him.

      Hold on. Gotta read the next chapter in Harry Potter three to the kids. Back in bit, I texted.

      Oh, I love that series. Do you do voices?

      Of course. Gotta do it right, I sent back.

      I wish a command performance, then.

      Yup. We were totally flirting. And I loved it. I read the chapter to the girls and Jonas. The girls shared the larger bedroom with Renee, while I shared the smaller one with Jonas. It wasn’t ideal, but the social worker had nixed the idea of anyone sleeping in the living room, even though a lot of nights, I ended up passed out on the couch anyway. If I won the barista contest, however, we could maybe get a three-bedroom apartment, so Renee could get her own room, or maybe even get a rental house so I could have privacy as well. That was the dream.

      “Can we read more?” Madison asked sleepily.

      “Tomorrow. I hope,” I said, kissing her head and guiding Jonas over to our room.

      It was always a toss-up whether we actually got the story time in, but I always felt a bit less like a fuck up when I put them to bed the way Mom had always tried to. After they were in bed and the kitchen was clean, I sorted laundry from the loads Renee had run at the coin-op in the basement of the buildings. I kept looking at my phone. Oh, screw it. I picked it up and hit Call.

      “Brady! I was just thinking about calling. But I didn’t want to wake the little ones.” Ev’s voice sounded sleepy and relaxed.

      A warm buzz shot through me like I’d had two of his beers. “They’re asleep now. And my phone’s always on vibrate. Just, you know, for future reference.”

      “I will indeed file that away.” I could almost hear him smiling over the phone. “And I’m enjoying a nice beer and some Pawn Stars—a pleasant break from Mira’s dramas.”

      “Oh man, I love that show. That and Storage Wars.” I flipped on the TV, lowered the volume. “Hey, it’s the one with the sword.”

      “Yes. I’m waiting for the part where they find out it’s a fake.” Ev chuckled. “I’ve no idea why I like this show, but I do. And yes, I like Storage Wars, too. Anything with auctions or antiques.”

      “Ditto.” I loved that we both liked the same crappy TV. “Mira get home safe?”

      “Yes, thank you. She was a bit tired, but not too bad. I made her go straight to bed. She came back with pretty nails, though, and it was lovely to see her smiling.”

      “You’re a good nephew,” I said as I balled up socks. “Is anyone else helping with her care?”

      Not that I knew a ton, but the few Turkish people I’d met all had large, involved extended families. Ev paused for a long time. “No. It is just us. It’s been that way since I was fourteen.”

      “Oh. I’m sorry.” I knew firsthand what a lousy expression that was, but I couldn’t think of what else to say. “Did your folks die, too?”

      “Not exactly.” There was a scritching sound, like Ev was rubbing his jaw. “We immigrated to the United States when I was twelve. But even in America, the Turkish community can be a bit…conservative. Our family especially, as my parents are devout and very rigid about things like homosexuality.”

      “Ah.” The picture became a lot clearer.

      “I was found kissing a school friend. And when I refused to apologize for my actions and wouldn’t accept…efforts to change my mind, I was sent to Mira.”

      “I’m glad you had her, then. She’s not conservative like the rest of the family?”

      Ev snorted. “Hardly. She was already the black sheep. She immigrated two decades before my parents. Did you know she had a lady friend for many, many years? It would have been before you were working at People’s Cup. She died about eight years ago. Lovely, lovely woman, my Hala Tanya.”

      “So they sent you to them?” On the TV, the coworkers were bickering over who had slacked off, but my heart was heavy for Ev’s younger self.

      “Yes. My father wanted to turn me out altogether, but my mother pleaded for the Aunt Mira option.”

      “Oh my God. That’s awful.”

      “Eh. It was what it was. How about you? Did your mother know of your…preferences before her passing?”

      “You can say bisexual, Ev. And yes, she did. I dated a guy in high school for a while. Wasn’t a big deal to her. I got a safe-sex lecture and that was pretty much it. She was more occupied with twin toddlers and Jonas. Me kissing boys was the least of her worries.”

      “And how old are your siblings now?”

      “Renee is eighteen, almost nineteen. The twin girls are seven and Jonas is ten. Technically, I could leave him alone some, but he’s got severe ADHD and impulsivity issues.” Renee and I argued about that a lot. She wanted to try leaving the kids alone more, or at least Jonas, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. He might be ten, but he had the rationality of a much younger kid.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ