In Between Days: Raising Jordan (boyxman)✅

Landslide

Tim

Bright and early in the morning, I wandered off mindlessly, still half asleep, waiting for the keurig machine to wake up. I nearly tripped over the suitcases Art parked in the doorway between the kitchen and living room not far from the front door. As usual, Art intended to leave quietly; it didn't matter that Jordan was in the hospital. When it came to Jordan, he was always at a loss of words and claimed he "didn't know what to do." I didn't know what to do, either, but I never ran away. Usually Art said goodbye, but I wasn't so sure he planned on saying goodbye this time. He'd barely said a word to me over the past few weeks. I spoke to Jamie more than I spoke to Art, my own father, who was still in the country. As I stared at the coffee dripping into Jordan's favorite mug (he'd kill me if he ever saw me using it, but I hadn't done the dishes in a few days), Art did his best to tiptoe down the stairs.

"You were going to say goodbye, right?" I said as Art entered the kitchen. He startled as if surprised to find me in the kitchen. The smell of coffee alone should have alerted him to my presence. He should have known by now that I got up at five everyday to be at work in Cambridge by 7:00 a.m. I was almost certain that Art hoped to leave without a word. What a coward.

"Of course I was going to say goodbye," he said, but I wasn't so sure about that. Contemplating what to say next, I paused before continuing.

"Why do you keep coming back?" I asked. "I've been raising Jordan since he was born. I've been pretty much on my own since I was eleven years old. It's always been me and Jordan. So...so, I want to know why you keep coming back. Why? It just upsets him. You know that, right?"

"You're blaming me now? Is that it?" he said. "It's not my fault he had a complete nutty at Fenway."

Complete nutty. What a way to put it.

"No," I said. "I'm not blaming you. That incident had nothing to do with you. It's just that....well...Jordan loves this house...this land...but you barely spend any time here. Once or twice a year maybe."

"What are you getting at, Tim?" he said. "Just say what you want to say."

"I'd like you to sell me this house and this property." There, I said it, something I had been dying to say for a long time. "I know it's been in the family for years and..."

"It's my house, too," he cut me off. This house and land had been his grandparents and passed down to his parents, then finally to Art. I was sure the house and property would be given to me and Jordan upon his death, but that could be many years from now and it wasn't like I wished for his death.

"You don't really live here, though, do you? Sell me the house. You owe it to us."

"I don't owe you anything," I said. "You're an adult. Go buy your own house. I know you can afford it. Besides, you're getting married. Wouldn't you and Kelly like to buy your own place? Don't let Jordan dictate your future."

"This is Jordan's house," I said. "He loves it more than you ever did."

"You need to let him go," Art said. I was getting really tired of hearing him say that. "I'm telling you he's..."

"I won't ever let him go, alright? He's my brother. I'm the only one who gives a shit."

"You know that's not true," Art said. "I just know there's so much we can do for him. You deserve to live your own life, start your own family. He's your brother, not your son. I know I've made a lot of mistakes. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested you become his guardian. Maybe I should have had him placed in a home."

"You tried," I reminded him. "I wouldn't let you."

"Yeah, I remember," he said. "I was never strong like you. I don't know where you get it from." He paused for a few seconds. "You were right about England and Oxford. I mean, what was I really thinking? I can't even picture him on a plane, can you?"