Gage is over, we are standing by the patio door discussing boots, as he broke a boot lace and I just happen to keep laces for Docs in the utility cupboard in the hallway, along with things like emergency glow sticks, hockey sticks, fishing rods and camping supplies. Gage is surprised and I tell him I like to be prepared because Ben never is. He points out my tendencies toward minimalism and I laugh and explain the difference between having what one needs and total excess.
(Excess is Ruth, who on a recent trip to Bath & Bodyworks, bought one of every fragrance in body mist and hand sanitizer and now has a stockroom instead of a bedroom and uhhh..I blame PJ. He can't say no to her. He also likes the Twilight Woods shower gel, but I didn't tell you that.)
So I found some laces for Gage and just as he is trying finagle a lunch invitation on top of the boot supplies, we hear a massive commotion in the front hall. I go running. I never know if two of the boys are fighting or if someone's breaking in or if Henry has slipped on the stairs or what. I book through the kitchen, down the hall and into the front hall.
And there is Duncan. Back from the dead. Or at least from tour, which is a fate worse than death, if you can believe me when I tell you it's true. I hardly recognize him after a four-week absence, even though I talked to him just about every day up until a week ago when he dropped off the radar just to white-knuckle it through the hard part, which is when everyone is tired, hungover, fed-up and overly-anxious to get home.
So he crashed into the front foyer and threw his bags on the floor and sprawled out face-down, arms outstretched, prostrating to the cat who sat inside the window beside the door, licking her paws and waiting for him for the whole month long. I heard him say Hiya kittycat and then he laughed in relief that he made it back in one piece, but barely.
I run in and he looks up at me and says Bridget, Jesus, thank you God, as he rolls over. His eyes are bloodshoot, pupils dilated, he has a full beard, and he smells like he just...I don't want to know and I think I'll be burning the luggage, sort of like I wanted to do with Ben's before PJ had the great idea to pressure-wash it out in the driveway.
Gage leans right over Duncan and smiles. Rough day? Duncan rolls his eyes closed and asks me to remind him of this moment the next time he feels like hitting the road. I tried already, I tell him sweetly. You just didn't listen.
I'll listen, Mom, he says sagely. I frown. I hate it when he calls me Mom. He's drunk. He stands finally and I get a huge, breath-stealing hug, not like the kind you would give your mom at all. When he lets go there is his little brother Dalton, and five or six of the others waiting to greet him and I stand back to get out of the way and realize I have to burn my outfit now too.
Safe and sound is my favorite place for everyone to be. He'll sleep well tonight, and probably most of tomorrow too.
