Peters residence
Brooklyn, New York
November 2012
9:32 PM
Thanksgiving and Christmas had always been his favorite holidays.
Aside from the break he could catch on work on both events, it was always fun to see the house dressed up and decorated with an array of ribbons and baubles. His mother had always preferred to decorate the house pretty early; so much that it pretty much became habit for him at that point. Samuel can’t help but smile when he eyes the family pictures on the walls, each of which carefully laced with fairy lights his mother had gotten for cheap.
It’s a little unnecessary, not exactly having any ulterior purpose other than looking nice. But she liked it, and that’s that.
“As great as Seattle is, I missed it here.” He doesn’t have to turn around to tell that it’s his brother. Jake, who was four years older but also four inches shorter, holds two mugs of hot coffee in his hands. He offers one to Samuel. “Don’t really have the time to decorate the apartment down there.”
“Is your internship killing you that badly?” There’s snark in his voice, but surprise as well. Jacob had never missed out on decorating for the holidays, not even when he had lived with them before heading off to college. Samuel hears a small chuckle from his older brother as well as a sip of coffee. He takes a sip of his own.
“You’d be surprised. I’m thankful that I found a good hospital for my internship, but it’s about as hellish as I expected.” Jacob shrugs, “But that’s boring talk for you. How’s working at the station with dad going?”
Samuel keeps his eyes on the family pictures and holiday ornaments, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “I finished training a month ago.”
“And?”
“I like it.”
He did. He liked working at the precinct. The people there were nice. It was just as his father had described throughout the years. He was still getting used to how things worked over there, but he had no particular complaints.
Not really.
(Or so he convinced himself.)
“You do?” Jacob sounds surprised this time. Samuel takes a sip of his coffee, refusing to look at his older brother. He probably wouldn’t any time soon. Their father had always commented that Jacob had the right eyes for the police, and Samuel had never really understood what he meant until fairly recently. Jacob could see right through others and their bullshit--and this probably included Samuel’s own as well.
And it wasn’t like the two of them weren’t on great terms either; far from it, in fact. The two had gotten closer only after Samuel graduated from high school. There was no bad blood between them, nor was there any awkwardness whatsoever.
But he couldn’t look at him.
Not yet.
So Samuel focuses instead on the ornaments. He focuses on them, keeps looking at them, tries not to look back at Jacob and his inquisitive, piercing eyes. The baubles are a little gaudy. He always wondered why his mother liked them so much despite him and his father complaining about their general appearance. He almost wants to smile at the thought, but…
Damn him.
Jacob knows what he’s doing, keeping silent like that.
“Fine,” he exhales. He turns towards his brother. Jacob eyes him curiously, still holding on to the mug of coffee. It isn’t even halfway done. “Can we talk outside?”
“Of course.”
So they do. They close the doors behind them, sit on the porch, and Samuel allows himself to talk. He talks about training, talks about their father’s excitement, talks about his first couple of weeks at the precinct. Jacob listens, barely interrupts. It’s only when Samuel’s own energy has winded down does he choose his words carefully.
“...have you thought of working elsewhere?”
“What?”
“I’m just asking.” Samuel looks at him now. Jacob’s staring right ahead, taking a sip from his mug. He almost forgets about the coffee mug to his left. Taking a sip, he listens as Jacob explains. “I mean, it doesn’t sound like you want to stay there forever. Unless you do?”
“I don’t.” Samuel surprises himself with the instant response. It’s as if it had been there the whole time. If he had to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he had actually wanted to join his father post-grad to begin with. “I don’t want to succeed dad or anything.”
“Does he know?” The answer is obvious, but Samuel gives it anyway. Jacob hums. “So back to the original question: have you thought of working elsewhere?”
He has. Jacob should know this by now. The way he had been talking about the precinct was enough of an answer.
He was usually enthusiastic. Samuel had always been eager, had always been willing to suspend judgement. But this time around, something felt off.
Like he wasn’t meant to be there.
Jacob turns his gaze on his younger brother this time. He stares for a moment, as if scrutinizing him, before giving a half-hearted shrug. “Make it a goal, then. I’m sure pops won’t take it personally. But maybe you can keep working with him for the experience, you know?”
That’s what he had been trying to tell himself. Samuel manages a nod. “...yeah.”
It’s silent. Both of them work on finishing their coffees, and Jacob’s mind drifts elsewhere for a moment. Neither speak. It’s only when they hear their mother calling them back inside for (late) dessert that they stand back up, mugs in hand. Neither of them bring it up upon coming back inside, nor do they bring up the topic of work when their mother presents a warm batch of cookies made from the leftover dough.
Jacob talks to their father about something he had looked up, and their mother lightly scolds Jacob about not eating.
Samuel smiles barely, for a moment--
Turns his attention back to the ornaments hanging around the house.
No comments:
Post a Comment