4 Weeks Later

 

“So, are you guys ready for deployment?” Jensen asks, as he pummels a punching bag.

“Do it like this,” I tell him, trying to show him a better technique.

“I know you’re super into this shit, but I’m just here to have fun and blow off steam,” he says, and goes back to the pansy-ass way he was doing it.

I roll my eyes. Learning MMA is important to me— it’s become a way to calm down and put things into perspective, instead of freaking out. It’s the closest thing to religion that I have, other than music. But my brothers obviously don’t take it as seriously. They’re just here to humor me.

“We still have another two weeks,” Harlow says. “Before deployment, that is.”

“Yeah, you guys having fun with your month of R&R?” Jensen asks.

“I don’t know, it’s a little boring,” I say.

I go back to swinging against my own punching bag. I think about my upcoming practice fight I’ve set up against another gym member in a few days’ time. I have to get into my best fighting shape for that.

I don’t actually have real fights yet, and I likely won’t ever get there, due to my SEALs schedule and deployments. But even intramural competition gets my adrenaline running in that way that I crave, and probably need.

“What a shame for the only single one among us to be bored before he deploys,” Jensen says. “We should take you on a trip. Maybe to Vegas. Your last hurrah before you’re sent to the sand dunes.”

“I’m not sure Whitney would be too into that idea,” Harlow says, laughing. “And I only have two more weeks to spend with the missus…”

“Yeah, would Riley be okay with that?” I ask Jensen, surprised. “I know you’re not being deployed to the desert for six months like Harlow and I are, but still. A Vegas trip with your single brother?”

Jensen backs away from his punching bag and shrugs, his eye on a practice match between two other guys in the center ring.

“Oooh.” He winces as one of the guys is knocked out. “She’d probably be okay with it,” he says. “Riley’s surprisingly cool. And it’s not like we’d be going to strip clubs or anything.”

“Oh sure, try to make excuses for why you broke our pact,” I tease.

“Pact?”

“You know, the one where none of us three brothers are ever going to be in any relationships? Never settle down? And then you up and get married on us.”

Harlow laughs, and chimes in.

“Jensen claims it was on our account— so that we could be at the wedding before we deploy— but that’s just a convenient excuse for a very fast wedding! You sure Riley isn’t knocked up?”

“Oh whatever,” Jensen says, taking over on the punching bag. “Like you’re one to talk. You and Whitney are practically married around.”

“Yep, my brothers fell like bullets, and I’m the only man left standing,” I say.

And I like the fact that I’m still standing, I remind myself. I’m the only sane one among us.

“That’s why you need a fun trip to Vegas,” Jensen says, undoubtedly to shift the spotlight away from himself. “Sports games. Gambling. Whatever.”

I shrug. A trip to Vegas doesn’t sound very appealing. I have a lot of things to do. Not to mention, Monica has still been in my thoughts, way too much. I can’t believe I managed to develop feelings for her, when she obviously doesn’t feel the same way.

“Anyway, guys,” I say, to change the subject and get my mind off her. “The reason I wanted to talk to you is that I found an assisted living home for Mom. They can take her right away.”

Harlow and Jensen exchange uneasy glances.

“Well, how did she take the news?” Jensen asks.

“That’s the thing. I need your guys’ help breaking the news to her.”

They stare at me, dubious.

“I’ve mentioned to her that I was looking around, and wanted to get her set up somewhere before I left,” I tell them. “But she doesn’t take me seriously, or maybe she just doesn’t want to. All she does is get mad and say I want to dump her in the street like garbage. I think it will be really hard for her to accept that I’m serious, so maybe you guys can help me talk some sense into her.”

“I don’t know. You’ve always been the best at dealing with Mom,” Jensen says.

I can’t believe it. These fucking wimps. They don’t want to have to put up with Mom, but they want to make me do all the work of finding other arrangements for her. And they want me to be the one to look like the bad guy when I tell her she has to move.

But then again, I guess that taking care of Mom is a duty I willingly signed up for, and have been carrying out to this day. Why would they expect it to be any different?

“I feel kind of bad for her, having to go live somewhere with strangers and all,” Harlow admits.

“Well, do you have a better idea?” I swing hard at the punching bag, feeling as if I could explode. “She runs off even while she’s staying with me, so I never know where she is. And I can’t exactly keep tabs on her from the Middle East.”

Harlow says, “Jensen, what about you and Riley? Could you maybe take her in?”

Jensen laughs, then frowns as he realizes that Harlow’s suggestion was serious.

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” he says. “Move my crazy mother in with my new bride. I can’t see any problems there.”

“Well, I did have a plan, but if you guys have something different in mind, or can come up with something soon, fine,” I tell them. “Just let me know within the next day or so, so I can let Mom know, and start making the transition. And I’d really appreciate your help with that.”

“Sure,” says Harlow, and Jensen nods too. “We’ll help you, it’s just… a big change, is all. First she’s wandering around from guy to guy, who knows where, then she’s living with you and that’s going pretty well, and now she’ll be really upset to lose her independence and freedom.”

“It’s not as if she’s earned her independence or freedom,” I tell them. “She’s still drinking, still being a drifter. Except now she always has a roof over her head when she wants to crash. I’m beginning to think I’m not doing her any favors by enabling her like this.”

“How can she still be drinking?” Harlow says, his pout reminding me of when he was a little boy. “In your house? How can you let her?”

“She’s not exactly my dog that I can keep chained up,” I tell him. “If you and Jensen think he’ll have better luck, he’s welcome to try. But as you know, Mom has a stubborn streak and a mind of her own.”

“She sure does,” says Jensen.

None of us say anything, but I’m pretty sure we’re all having the same thought.

I guess that’s where we get it from.