We Are the Brennans

by Tracey Lange

  Her hostile eyes zeroed in on his. “So when do you plan to tell Luke you’re abandoning your family?”

  All the air was sucked from his chest. He dragged his hands through his hair to take a moment to recover. “I’ll talk to him now.”

  Her arms were still crossed tight. “I’ll tell you one thing, Kale. When he asks me what happened, I’m not going to lie to him.”

  He nodded and stood.

  “Might as well pack your shit while you’re up there too,” she said. “I want you gone.” Her look and tone were venomous, but Kale knew underneath she was feeling the special kind of pain that came with rejection. He knew it from experience.

  He’d climbed the stairs to Luke’s room then, with a heart so heavy he had to stop halfway to shore himself up. But he’d opened this door and he was past the point of no return. He found his son sitting on the floor of his bedroom in his underwear, playing with blocks. The same wooden blocks Kale had played with as a child. He sat beside him and Luke showed him the house he was building. He’d managed to pile blocks together in a rough image of their house, two stories with a simple roof.

  In a calm voice Kale told Luke that he was going to be leaving the house. That he wouldn’t be going far, but he would be staying in a different place.

  Luke kept working, started to add the garage to his house. “When will you be back, Daddy?”

  Kale clenched a square block in his hand, letting the corners dig into his palm and fingers. “You’ll still see me every day, but I’ll be sleeping in a different house.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but wherever I go, that will be your home too.”

  Luke stopped playing with the blocks. “What do you mean?”

  Kale was confusing him. “Well,” he said, stacking a few blocks together, “from now on your mom is going to live in one house…” He pointed to the house Luke had built. “… and I’m going to live in a different house.” He pointed to his simple square structure. “But we’ll both see you all the time, and you’ll have two homes.”

  Luke’s eyes went back and forth between the houses. “But why?”

  “Because we decided that would be best.” Kale wanted to keep it simple, reassuring. But he cringed on the inside when he thought about how Vivienne might answer that question. Because your daddy left us.

  “But why?”

  Kale picked up a block and added to Luke’s garage. “Sometimes things change, and change can be good.” He put his hand on Luke’s head, twined his fingers in the soft curls. “But one thing that will never change is that Mommy and I both love you very, very much.” He gripped the small block in his other hand again, until it felt like the dull edges might break the skin.

  Luke was working on the garage again.

  “Do you understand that, buddy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  But he didn’t, not really. Luke would wake up tomorrow morning and Kale wouldn’t be there. How many times would his son look for him or need him only to find him gone? Luke would have questions for a long time, Kale would have to explain this again and again. And at least half the time it would be Vivienne who would be answering his questions.

  After a few more minutes he left Luke to his blocks and packed a duffel bag. Downstairs he told Vivienne about their conversation. She stayed at the kitchen sink, her back to him while he spoke. When he was finished, all she said was, “You and that family deserve each other.”

  Then he left.

  He hadn’t thought beyond that, beyond walking out the door. Once he reached the corner he called Paul. Last week Paul had mentioned he was looking for a renter for the small carriage house on his property, which was only half a mile away, on the other side of Saw Mill Road. Funny how certain tidbits planted themselves in the subconscious, even if they seemed irrelevant at the time. Paul answered the call and said the place was available, but the current tenant wasn’t out until tomorrow. Kale said he’d take it.

  He hung up, feeling light-headed, as if the momentous life changes he’d just set in motion were about to catch up to him. He needed to find a place where he could sit down and figure out his next steps. So he’d slung his bag across his shoulder and headed to Hollis Park.

  * * *

  “I thought this was my bench,” Sunday said.

  He gave her what felt like a very tired smile.

  She tucked her hands between her knees, like maybe she was chilly. “I was just on my way home from meeting Michael.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Okay. He doesn’t think there’s much to worry about. Right now, anyway.”

  Kale nodded. “He’s a good guy. Michael.” Some self-punishing part of him was fishing for how she felt about Michael.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  When she didn’t offer any more, he looked out into the fading light that was settling across the wide green lawns. A few stragglers remained in the park. He needed to figure out where the hell he was going to stay that night. He couldn’t stomach the thought of a hotel room in his own town. He was so tired the park bench would probably do the job.

  “What’s that?” Sunday asked, nodding toward his duffel.

  Staring straight ahead he said, “I left.”

  He heard her soft gasp.

  “I had to. She forced it after last night. I tried to explain it to Luke…” His voice caught and he stopped for a moment. “It wasn’t her fault, maybe I never gave it a fair chance. But I couldn’t pretend it was working anymore, that we were making each other happy.” He hesitated but decided on the most truthful explanation. “It was never going to be the way I know it should be.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head drop. Maybe she was thinking about how to tell him they were finally over, that everything had been exorcised and she was ready to move on. That it would be best for both of them.

  After a minute she lifted her head up and laid something on the bench between them.

  Their postcard. With his note scribbled on it.

  They exchanged sad smiles. He picked it up and held it in his hands.

  She leaned back against the bench and they sat in silence for a bit. It was that time of night, right after the sun sets, when the air feels thinner, and scattered light seems to wash everything in a soft violet hue.

  “Sounds like you have a lot to figure out,” she said.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  “Do you know where you’re going to be living?”

  “I’m renting Paul’s carriage house starting tomorrow.” From owning a house to renting an employee’s outbuilding.

  “So, you’re homeless for the night.”

  “I guess I am.” Homeless, financially strapped, on the road to divorce.

  “Well, does it make you feel any better to know I officially have a criminal record now?”

  He turned to her in surprise. “A little.”

  She smiled. And the tiniest weight lifted from his shoulders.

  “I know a place you could stay tonight,” she said, “if you’re interested. It’s a little crowded at the moment. But there’s a cozy extra room in the attic that’s yours if you want it.” A nearby lamppost created a point of light in each of her eyes.

  “That sounds really nice.”

  Above them the sky was darkening, transitioning to indigo. The first cicadas of the evening began to announce themselves with soft chirping throughout the park.

  Sunday pulled her bag on her shoulder and stood. Then she stepped in front of him and slid her hands in her jacket pockets. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  They walked their old route in a silence so comfortable Kale didn’t want it to end. A thousand difficult questions nibbled at the edges of his mind: How could he best support Luke through this? Would he and Vivienne be able to work together or would it always be contentious? How was he going to pay for two households for a while? He didn’t have answers to those questions yet, but he didn’t feel alone.

>   Sunday followed suit when he stopped on the sidewalk outside the Brennan house. The first two stories were lit up, warmth emanating from all corners. It was the place Kale had been coming to since he was five years old.

  The front door swung open and Denny appeared, squinting into the darkness. He stepped out onto the porch, getting a closer look. Then he crossed his arms up high. “For fuck’s sake.”

  Kale tensed up. There was no gloomier feeling than the idea that he might no longer be welcome in this house.

  But then Denny tossed up his hands. “Might as well come inside.”

  He turned and went back into the house, leaving the door wide open behind him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Denny

  “Might as well come inside.”

  He’d been surprised to see Kale and Sunday standing out there together. But, then again, not really.

  His gut reaction had been to lecture them about marriage and parenthood, letting go of the past. But he knew Theresa would say something along the lines of “Who the hell are you to know what’s right for anybody else?” And he decided to keep his mouth shut.

  He headed back to the kitchen table, where he’d been making arrangements to move his wife and daughter back home the next morning. A moment later Jackie and Shane walked in the back door.

  “Look what Shane brought from the store,” Jackie said.

  Shane dropped a large paper bag on the table and started pulling out pints of ice cream. “Mr. Newman gave me ice cream because I stayed to help with inventory. I said he didn’t have to, but he wanted to.”

  “Nice, Shane,” Denny said, checking out the flavors. “Good work.”

  Jackie grabbed a handful of spoons from the drawer, dropped them on the table. “I call the mint chocolate chip first.” He sat down and peeled off the lid, started eating out of the container. “The pub was busy tonight. It’s time to close later, at least through the summer.”

  Denny nodded, digging into some kind of chunky chocolate.

  Shane sat down, studying his options, lining them up so he could make an informed decision.

  “What’s going on around here?” Jackie asked.

  “Dad’s still at Clare’s. She had some priest over for dinner and asked him to come.”

  Jackie chuckled. “Poor bastard’s probably being subjected to the unabridged Brennan family history.”

  When Sunday rounded the corner from the living room with Kale in tow, Jackie’s mouth fell open. Shane didn’t seem to take much notice.

  “What’s going on in here?” she asked.

  “Shane brought home some treats,” Denny said. “We’re having an ice-cream social.”

  She and Kale took their seats at the table.

  “Kale’s going to spend the night here,” Sunday said. “He’s set up in the extra room in the attic.”

  “Next to me?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” Kale said. “If that’s okay with you, Shane.”

  “That’s okay with me.”

  Jackie held up his spoon. “Is anyone gonna ask if it’s okay with me?”

  Denny, Sunday, and Kale all said, “No,” in unison.

  Shane full-body laughed. “No one’s gonna ask you, Jackie.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kale said, reaching for a carton and two spoons. “It’s just one night. I have somewhere to go tomorrow.”

  Denny raised his eyebrows at Kale, who gave him a solemn nod.

  So Kale had left home. What a shit show. And it was only a matter of time before Sunday got sucked into it. She and Kale would wait awhile, they had stuff to work through. But as far as Denny was concerned, their fate had been sealed the night Kale asked to read her story in high school.

  He glanced around the table in the quiet. Shane, at one end, dug into his dessert with purpose. Jackie, opposite Shane, scooped ice cream into his mouth, glancing at Kale and Sunday, as if confirming they were really there. They sat across from Denny, taking turns eating from the same carton.

  Two months ago he had sat at this table, feeling utterly alone, about to get a phone call from a cop in LA.

  “Theresa and Molly are coming home tomorrow,” Shane said. “Right, Denny?”

  “That’s right, bud.”

  “Everybody will be together then.” Shane scooped more ice cream. “When I was helping Dad park his truck in the garage, he told me everything will be okay now.” He looked across the table. “Jackie, can we swap?”

  Jackie slid his container across. “Why were you helping Dad park his truck?”

  “Cuz it was really dark and the light in the garage is still broken. He didn’t want to hit something like last time.” He started in on the mint chip.

  “Dad was driving at night?” Denny asked. “By himself?”

  “Yeah. He woke me up to help him park.”

  Christ. Dad had gone out driving alone late at night, without any of them knowing. He could have hurt himself or someone else, or gotten lost far from home. Maybe it was time to start hiding keys to the vehicles.

  “When was this?” Jackie asked.

  Shane scratched his head and then stood, spoon still in his hand. He walked over to examine his calendar on the fridge. “It was one, two … two nights ago.” He pointed to the day with his spoon and shook his head. “I missed a Yankee game. Cuz we had to go to the new Brennan’s.”

  Opening night. The night Denny had come home to find Kale at the house.

  The night Billy Walsh was killed.

  “But Dad was at the grand opening,” Denny said.

  “Only for a little while,” Sunday said. “He had Clare take him home around six thirty.”

  “And he stopped in the pub back here around seven thirty,” Jackie said. “I assumed he was walking, but maybe he was driving the truck.”

  Anxious looks ping-ponged across the table while Shane took his seat again. They were getting used to small memory lapses and repetitive questions. But taking off by himself for a drive at night? This was a whole new dimension of their dad’s aging that would make it difficult to keep him safe.

  Jackie jerked up straight in his seat and dropped his spoon on the table. “Wait a minute…” He stood and jogged upstairs.

  “Where the hell did Dad go?” Denny asked Shane. But he knew right away there was too much edge to his question.

  “Oh boy,” Shane said. His eyes got huge and his hand went to the side of his head. “I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

  “It’s just us,” Sunday said. “It’s okay.”

  “But Dad said once three people know it’s not a secret anymore.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “He probably just felt like going for a drive.”

  “Yeah, he said … he said he went for a ride.”

  “Did he mention where he went?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Or if he met anyone?”

  His features squeezed together while he thought about it. “I don’t think so. But I was sleepy. It was late.” He went back to work on his ice cream.

  They heard the front door open and close. “’Lo? Anybody up?”

  “Oh boy,” Shane said. “We’re in here, Dad.”

  Denny watched his father come around the corner and backstep. “What’s all this?” He smiled when he saw Kale at the table beside Sunday. “Well now.”

  “Dad,” Shane said, his fist closed tight around his spoon. “Sorry, Dad. But I told these guys about, about the other night. With the truck.”

  A spark of panic lit up his dad’s eyes and died down just as quickly. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Fair play to you, Shane. That’s all right. Sure I didn’t want to worry yous just because I felt like driving around the neighborhood a few times. Won’t happen again, you have my word.” He bowed from the waist, hands up in contrition. Then he went to the sink, grabbed a glass off the dish drainer, and filled it. “Clare’s was good enough. Father Pat’s a nice fella. Patience of Job listening to her natter on the way she does.�
� He looked to Heaven and drank his water.

  Jackie came back downstairs and took his seat.

  “You want some ice cream, Dad?” Shane asked. “Mr. Newman gave it to me.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’m just after some of Clare’s soda bread pudding.” He patted his stomach and stepped closer to the table. “Does my heart good to see you all sitting here together.”

  Denny looked closely at his father, who didn’t seem to notice the uneasy glances coming his way from around the table. What the hell had he done the other night? But there were no answers in the bright eyes and beaming smile.

  “Well,” his dad said, placing his empty glass in the sink. “I’m off to bed. See you all in the morning.” A final salute to the table and he headed upstairs.

  “Me too,” Shane said. “I’m tired.” He pushed his chair back with a loud screech and stood, took his empty carton to the trash and his spoon to the sink. “Good night, everybody.” An energetic wave before he climbed the stairs, untroubled by the whole conversation.

  Denny’s gut started to churn. His father had gone somewhere the other night, just hours after Denny told him that Billy Walsh had hurt Sunday and was coming after the pub. But, seriously, a clandestine trip to Katonah to take someone out?

  No one said anything or touched the softening ice cream in front of them. After they heard two bedroom doors close upstairs Jackie reached behind him, under his sweatshirt, and pulled out a solid object wrapped in a vivid green cloth. He laid it in the middle of the table with a soft thud. When he folded back the scarf, there it was.

  Fuck. A fifth person had known about the gun. His dad had been the one to buy it for the pub all those years ago.

  “It was in his hiding place,” Jackie said.

  “Oh my God.” Sunday’s voice was laced with dread as the truth descended on all of them.

  Denny looked up. They were all staring at the gun. Jackie with his hands plunged into his hair, Kale with a fist to his mouth. Sunday sat very still, her hands clasped in front of her. But the expression on her face was one of weary resignation, like she’d already gotten over the shock.