Rachel was true to her word.
She came faithfully every Friday. Sunday afternoons were soon added, along with a monthly Saturday brunch. Jo had insisted several times that she not feed them every time, but she turned out to be as stubborn as she was generous.
As hard as Jo tried to distance himself and remain unaffected by her visits, he was quickly becoming all together too comfortable with them. He began to loosen up, to smile more, and he'd put weight on. Not much, but he didn't look like a walking skeleton anymore. He had more energy now, and though he went to bed dead tired each night, he didn't carry the bone-deep exhaustion with him throughout the day.
The boys had changed too. They weren't on edge like they used to be. While none of them had ever had behavioral problems at school, teachers began to comment that they were excelling with new vigor. At home, they were practically harmonious. Fighting had decreased to a few squabbles a week and they just seemed happier in general.
It was amazing how much of an effect one person could have.
This particular Saturday was monthly brunch day. Despite only being early March, the sun had decided to make an appearance and melt away the snow into 60° heat. With the temperatures to which they'd become accustomed, it felt practically tropical. The boys spent the morning begging Jo to let brunch be a picnic at the park, not taking "maybe" for an answer.
Jo had slept precisely 20 minutes overnight; Johnny, who was already a colicky baby, had started teething and decided that sleep was unnecessary between the early morning hours of 2 and 8. Jo had returned home from the factory at 2:30 to find a frazzled Drew holding the shrieking child. Drew had shoved the baby in to Jo's arms and was snoring in bed not five minutes later, leaving Jo to pace the floor with the youngest for the remainder of the night. This morning, he was finding patience more difficult than normal.
"Jo, pleeeeeeeeease. It's not gonna be this warm again for, like, a hundred days," Mikey whined.
It was 10 AM. Mikey had been awake for two hours. In those two hours, he'd asked the same question in difference variations at least twenty times.
"Michael Atwood. I said maybe. Don't ask me again."
He kept his tone even, but still felt a bit harsh as Mikey hung his head.
"You might improve your chances if you were dressed," he added.
It did the trick as Mikey's face lit up and he went off at a dead run to the bedroom, smacking directly into Adam, who began to cry as if he'd been hit by car.
"Would you both shut up? You're hurting my brain!" Drew yelled from the bed he'd not yet vacated.
"Jo! Drew said 'shut up'," Sam shouted from the kitchen.
Jo closed his eyes and took a single, deep breath as he flexed his tense jaw.
So much for harmonious.
He went about untangling the boys, chastising Drew, and calling Sam out on tattling, all with Johnny crying inconsolably in his arm. In all the commotion, he never heard the soft knock on the door, or saw Jaime open it. When he finally turned back to the kitchen, he was startled to find Rachel standing there, staring at him.
"Oh. Hi."
"Hey there," she said, smiling. "Got your hands full today?"
He never got a chance to answer as the boys swarmed her, finding the picnic basket she'd brought and cheering at the confirmation that they'd be going to the park. Jo took the opportunity to splash some water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. He avoided his reflection and the dark circles he knew were painted beneath his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Way Down I'll Go
General FictionJo's brothers are his world. He's spent his entire life sacrificing everything to give them the life he's never had. Having battled through a horrific childhood, his every breath is for the benefit of his brothers, who gave him a reason to live thro...
