“Is Claire around?”

“She should be back soon.”

He sat on the edge of the couch and downed the rest of his beer. I watched him sitting there, tanned, and relaxed in his jeans and pullover, a fully grown man. He seemed both intensely familiar and strange, like hearing your own voice on an answering machine.

I sat across from him. “So you’re really back for the anniversary?”

“Sure enough.”

“Why?”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve been home twice in the last ten years. Why now?”

He took a beat. “Forty years together is a serious thing. It should be celebrated. Proper respect should be paid.”

“If you’re implying—”

“I’m not casting stones. I know you’ve been stressing about the party.”

I wanted to protest, but he was right. I had been stressing about the party. Mostly because it was something to stress about that wasn’t Claire but also because basically the whole town was coming, and I was shit at organizing things.

“How did you even find out about it?” I asked.

“The usual way.”

“So forthcoming, as always.”

“Mom told me. How do you think I found out?”

“Right.”

He looked around the room. “Nice house.”

“Thanks.”

“And Seth…well done there.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You should meet him. You know, since he’s your nephew and all.”

“Now who’s casting stones?”

“What the fuck, Tim? Honestly, what the fuck?”

He looked at me for a long moment, a look I might’ve understood twenty years ago but which was impregnable then.

“Maybe I’m here to make amends…”

The front door slammed open.

“Jeff?” Claire called in a voice that rang out like it hadn’t since before.

“We’re in here,” I answered, but my throat felt dry, and I knew it wasn’t loud enough.

“Jeff?” she called again, walking through the house. “You’re never going to believe this! I’ve got the perfect idea. The perfect thing.”

I heard her voice trail off at the same time as I felt her presence behind me. Tim shifted his dark gaze from me to her, and something about him softened.

“Tim.”

I was ready with a sarcastic “Tim’s here, honey, isn’t it awesome?” which was always how we spoke of this possibility, the few times it had come up. But something in her expression stopped me.

“Hello, Claire.”

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“A few minutes ago. Jeff and I have been…catching up.”

“Great, great. You’ll stay here, of course?”

“I’d be happy to.”


We fought that night. In low voices, through clenched teeth. A half year of disappointments and things unsaid came pouring out, filling up our bedroom until it felt like a window had to be opened or there wouldn’t be room for one of us anymore.

It was Seth who ended the fight. His soft rap at the door was like a fork hitting a glass at a wedding.

“Yes?” Claire said, her voice shaky.

“Had a nightmare,” Seth replied, his own voice wavering.

I stood up quickly and was at the door in an instant. Nine-going-on-ten Seth stood there in his footy pajamas that Claire wasn’t ready to give up, his round face streaked with tears.

I picked him up. “You’re getting so big.”

“Not that big. Not as big as you.”

“You will be soon, little man.”

“Can I kill the bad guys, then?”

“Were you playing that video game at Cory’s?” Claire asked from the tangle of sheets where she’d retreated as my words got angrier and angrier.

Seth nodded. “I lost.”

I kissed the top of his head and walked him over to Claire. He slipped from my arms and into hers with a lack of hesitancy that struck me. When was the last time I’d taken Claire in my arms without thinking about it, or sought comfort in hers?

I sat down on my side of the bed as Claire settled Seth in between us. He lay on his back, the covers pulled up to his chin.

“Will you stand guard?” he asked.

“Of course we will, honey.”

Claire met my eyes over his head and we each propped ourselves up on an elbow, forming a wall of family around Seth.

“That’s good. That’ll teach ’em.”

“Shh, now. Close your eyes.”

He obeyed her in a way that was becoming rare and was almost instantly asleep. We stayed like that for a while, listening to him breathe.

“What were you saying when you came home?” I said eventually, speaking low.

“About what?”

“When you came into the house, you seemed all excited about something.”

Her face cleared. “I figured out what I want to do.”

“What’s that?”

She told me. That she was thinking of opening a daycare, that she thought it might be what she needed right now. It seemed to me like the opposite of what she needed—to be surrounded by other people’s babies—so I stayed silent while she talked more than she had in months. I knew her well enough to know that the more I protested, the more she’d dig in her heels. I thought if I gave noncommittal “hmms” at appropriate moments, the thought would pass, sink back into her brain, and be gobbled up.

But apparently not.

Apparently, I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did.

But I didn’t think about that then, because Claire was smiling at me, and our son was warming the space between us, protected by the fort that was our family.


I never did get a clear answer from Tim as to why he chose that particular moment to come back. In truth, I spent a lot of time avoiding him over the next couple weeks. It was the company’s year-end and I’d just been promoted, and that provided enough of an excuse to spend longer hours than usual at work.

Tim, to his credit, spent a lot of time with Seth, trying to get to know him. He took him to the local single-A ball team’s spring training sessions, and helped him become proficient at riding the new bike we’d bought him. These were things I should’ve been doing but were good for Tim to be doing too. Seth had always been curious about Tim, and I was happy that he was there to fill in.

Claire was also busy. She was serious about the daycare thing, and seeing her sense of purpose, her determination, made me rethink my earlier opposition. Some of the color had come back into her face, and the circles around her eyes were fading. I even heard her singing in the shower once, a few bars that she cut off suddenly, as if she’d surprised herself.

When I wasn’t at work, I was planning my parents’ party. I’d originally intended it to be a small affair, but now that Tim had made a big show of coming all this way, I had to take it up a notch. Rent the town hall, have it catered, though the thought of the hole it was going to make in my credit card kept me up at night, listening to Claire’s regular breathing.

It was one of those nights when she had what I can only describe as a wet dream. Her breathing got shallow and her hips rose and then her whole body tightened and released. It had been so long since we’d had sex, watching her made me hard, but all thoughts of waking her and bringing some reality to whatever fantasy she’d been experiencing disappeared when I saw the peaceful smile crawl onto her face and take up residence. Instead, I went to the bathroom and took care of myself, feeling like a furtive teenager as I came into a washcloth, then rinsed it out.

The town hall was located in an old grain silo that had been converted years ago, but still smelled of wheat and chaff if you breathed deeply enough. My parents made appreciative noises about the long buffet tables groaning with food, the small votives flickering on the tables for eight covered in light blue fabric, and the DJ who knew not to play anything past ABBA’s heyday.

After dinner, Tim rose from his seat by my mother and tapped his glass. A hush fell over the room.

“Some sort of toast at these kinds of things is inevitable. And so, on the long flight here, and off and on for the last couple of days, I thought to myself, what should one say at a moment like this? How does one pay proper homage to the commitment you see before you? Forty years. That’s a beautiful thing.” His eyes scanned the room and found a place to rest. “A beautiful thing. And what more can you say than that, really? I can’t think of anything. So raise a glass, mates. Stand up even. To Mom and Dad. To forty years.”

We all stood and drank and mumbled what he told us to, and I felt both diminished and like I wanted to punch him in the face. That was my speech to give, damn it, even though I hated giving speeches.

“One more thing,” Tim continued. “I also want to say thank you to my brother, Jeff, who’s the reason you’re all drinking and eating so well this evening.” He held his glass held out to me like a peace offering. “I haven’t been around, and you’ve been doing more than your share. Thank you.” He raised his glass again as the room chorused, “To Jeff!”

Goddamn Tim. Right when you want to hate him forever, he goes and does something unexpected. Something that had me feeling way more emotional than I thought possible.

Claire took my hand and leaned into me.

“You did a good thing. A really good thing.”

“Thanks.”

She took my face in her hands and kissed me. “I mean it. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I kissed her back until there were a few whistles and catcalls telling us to “get a room.” We broke apart. Claire gave me her crooked smile and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

“Good show tonight,” Tim said to me a few minutes later, catching up to me at the bar.