The sounds of moving boxes and murmurs filled the new condo, giving it a sense of bustling disorder. It wasn’t home yet — not like the familiar walls we left behind — but it was where we were starting over. I leaned against a stack of half-unpacked containers, taking in the faint chaos of our new life. Upstairs, I could hear Brianna’s unmistakable voice mingling with Brooklyn’s muffled response, their exchange hinting at impatience.
A smile tugged at my lips — a real smile — one that actually reached my eyes. For all the challenges, a part of me held hope. We were still together. No matter how unfamiliar this place was, we had each other. And maybe, just maybe, that could be enough, at least for now.
Then, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of raised voices.
“Brooklyn, hurry up! You’re not the only one who needs the bathroom!” Brianna’s frustration rang out, sharp and loud.
“Just a minute! I’m almost done!” came Brooklyn’s irritated response.
I sighed, pushing myself off the boxes and heading for the stairs. Each step sent a dull ache through my back, a reminder of the long day we’d had and the years that had somehow stacked up on me without my noticing. The nausea from the stress of moving still lingered, but I kept going. I knew better than to ignore moments like this — my kids needed me.
At the top of the stairs, I found the hallway in disarray. Half-opened boxes and scattered bags cluttered the space, everything feeling incomplete and chaotic. Brianna stood outside the bathroom door, arms crossed tightly over her chest, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor. She looked like she was ready to explode.
“Everything alright up here?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, though exhaustion weighed down each word.
Brianna shot me a look, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Brooklyn’s hogging the bathroom. Again. And I need to get ready,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Before I could reply, the bathroom door creaked open, and Brooklyn stuck his head out, wearing a crooked grin. “Get ready for what, Brianna?” he teased. “We literally just moved in. You planning a hot date with a moving box or something?”
Brianna narrowed her eyes, but I could see the corner of her lips twitching, trying not to smile. “No, genius. I want to check out the mall — maybe meet some people, maybe even find a cute boy or two,” she shot back, her smirk widening. “Not that you’d understand,” she added, her voice dripping with sibling sarcasm. “You’ve been in there forever.”
Brooklyn’s grin slipped, replaced by something darker for just a heartbeat. He glanced at her, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Yeah, well, you do you,” he muttered, his voice suddenly quieter. He looked down, adding under his breath, “Maybe you’ll actually make some friends who aren’t just family.”
Brianna opened her mouth to snap back, but her gaze softened, and she hesitated. Instead of a retort, she let out a sigh. “Brooklyn, I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I just... I miss how things were before. You know? When we used to go out together and have fun, before everything got... complicated.” She paused, studying his face for a moment. “I mean, I miss doing all of that with you the way it was back then.”
Brooklyn rolled his eyes, but something in his posture shifted — a vulnerability that couldn’t be masked. “Yeah, well, I never really liked doing all of that, Bri. The boys... it was just pretending.” He looked away for a moment, adding, “But I still wanna go to the mall. Not for boys, obviously.” He looked back at her, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe I’ll meet some girls, you know, like normal guys do.”
Brianna raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a bemused smile. “Meet some girls, huh?” She let out a soft chuckle. “Alright, dork. Good luck with that.” She stepped forward, ruffling his hair in that old sisterly way she hadn’t quite let go of. “Still got that Alex-from-Modern-Family vibe, don’t you?”
Brooklyn flushed, swatting her hand away. “Hey! I’m serious! I can be cool... when I want to be,” he protested.
Brianna rolled her eyes but laughed, the tension between them dissipating. “Sure, Brooklyn. Just try not to embarrass me too much when we do go, okay?”
I decided it was time to intervene before the banter went sideways. “Alright, that’s enough, you two,” I said, my tone firmer as I stepped closer. “Nobody’s going to the mall today. We just moved in, and we’re all exhausted. Let’s focus on getting settled first, alright?”
Brianna let out an exaggerated groan, her arms flopping to her sides. “Fine,” she grumbled, though the annoyance in her voice seemed more performative than genuine. “But you owe me a mall trip soon, Dad. I need to find out if Miami’s shopping is better than Indiana’s.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “We’ll see. Let’s get through unpacking first, then we’ll talk.”
She gave a dramatic sigh and turned back to Brooklyn, who had relaxed against the bathroom doorframe, the tension slowly fading from his face. I caught a small nod from him — a subtle acknowledgment, almost like a silent “thanks” for stepping in. I nodded back, understanding in the way only a dad could.
As I started to turn away, Brianna’s expression shifted, something more thoughtful coming into her eyes. “Oh, hey, before I forget,” she said, her gaze settling back on Brooklyn. “Do you need me to find any Midol or anything? I know you mentioned cramps earlier.”
Brooklyn’s face went beet red, and he looked away, suddenly fidgeting with the door handle. “Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled. “It sucks. I hate it. I mean, I’m a guy, but I still have to deal with this. It just... sucks.”
Brianna gave a sympathetic sigh, shaking her head. “I get it, Brooklyn. It’s not exactly a picnic for me either.” She knelt down, rummaging through one of the half-opened boxes, and finally pulled out a pack of Midol. She handed it over. “Here. Just take it. It’ll help.”
He hesitated, then took it, his eyes softening slightly. “Thanks, Bri,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No problem, dork,” she replied, her voice teasing, but her eyes warm. “And hey, just remember — you’re still my annoying little brother. That hasn’t changed.”
Brooklyn rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.
Brianna gave Brooklyn’s shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before she stood up straight. “Alright, take your time. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” With that, she disappeared down the hallway, her footsteps fading as she went.
The bathroom door remained half-open, and Brooklyn looked at me, his eyes reflecting something complicated — a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and uncertainty. “She’s not mad, right?” he asked softly, almost like he was testing the waters.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head gently. “She’s not mad, kiddo. She just... wants things to feel normal again. We all do.”
He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping, the weight of his own thoughts visible in the set of his jaw. “I want that too, Dad. I just...” He hesitated, his gaze drifting downward. “I just don’t know how to make it feel that way.”
I took a step closer, meeting his eyes until he looked back up at me. “You don’t need to have all the answers today,” I said. “It’s okay to not know. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time — together. We’re all in this together, alright?”
Brooklyn held my gaze for a moment, and I saw some of the tension lift. He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin but hopeful smile. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice a little more sure. “Thanks.”
He turned back into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him. The click of the latch echoed softly in the quiet hallway, leaving me standing there for a moment, alone with my thoughts.
I could hear Brianna’s door close, the muffled rustle of her moving about her room, and for a second, I considered following her — to check in, to see if she needed anything. Then my gaze shifted back to the closed bathroom door, where my son — Brooklyn — was still struggling to make sense of it all.
Or maybe... maybe I should go back downstairs, take a breath, and try to shake off the exhaustion before handling anything else.
I hesitated, torn between three choices — each one pulling at me, each one holding a different piece of my heart.
And just like that, I stood there — caught between decisions, between what was needed and what I felt, between my two kids and myself.
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