We leave the principal’s office with the understanding that, while Marcus might have a curious way of interpreting creative assignments, he should practice restraint sometimes. Tanner and I visibly disagreed, but nodded at the principal to placate him, then dismissed ourselves with our son. Tanner kisses me on the cheek, startling me, before saying, “Gotta get back to the boys. We’re makin’ up for that big loss two weekends ago, I’m tellin’ you, us Spruce High footballers, wenevergive up!” He gives Marcus a sort of dorky high-five, then heads off down the hall in an energetic jog that draws my eyes right to his ass.
His musclebound, plentiful, soul-stealing ass.
Some things never change.
Is this something I should set aside to put into my vows for the renewal ceremony? A soliloquy to his tight football buns?
“If something’s going on between you and Dad,” says Marcus without prompt, causing me to turn to him with a start, “can you at least give me and my brother a heads-up?”
The question pulls the floor straight out from under my feet.
“We’ve done the moving family-to-family thing already,” he goes on. “It’s worse not knowing. Joshua takes it harder.”
I’m still reeling from Tanner’s heroic grappling with the reins in that principal’s office, I can barely make words. “We’re not … no … no, no, Marcus, we’re not …” I swallow hard. Am I lying to him? Or am I trying to believe it myself? “We’re fine. Totally fine, buddy. We’re not going anywhere.”
Marcus is staring down at his drawing clutched in his fingers.
I don’t know if it’s just the teenage too-cool-to-look-me-in-the-eyes-in-public thing, or if he doesn’t buy what I’m selling.
I nod at his drawing. “So Joshua used to have nightmares?”
Now Marcus looks up from the drawing, then shrugs. “I just drew this ‘cause I thought it was cool. Don’t know what all of that was that Dad said. Can I go home with you? I don’t really feel like going to Art Club, and I sorta promised Joshua I’d game with him.”
I blink, stunned.
Tanner made all that up?
I don’t know whether to be mad, disappointed, or utterly impressed.
It’s hours later when Marcus and Joshua are in front of the TV playing their game, Tanner is still at the school with his coaching duties, and I’m curled up in Nadine’s old armchair, but can’t seem to focus on the book I grabbed, my mind everywhere else. On the words Marcus said to me in the hallway outside theprincipal’s office. Tanner’s big speech about the Tackle Burger he nearly died trying to eat in front of me.
How I felt when the moody principal kept saying just half of my last name.
Omitting the Strong.
And the shame I felt for not correcting him.
It sounded so wrong without the Strong part.
It was a Friday morning, just before the weekend, just shy of two years ago, that Tanner and I were in a cold, cluttered agency office. I had no faith whatsoever in the caseworker we sat across from, but despite how rigid she seemed before, her voice warmed when she said, “Joshua is a wonderful, incredible boy. So bright and curious. It’s no mystery you two keep gravitating toward him.”
I remember Tanner’s arm was around my back so tightly. We had already faced disappointment and rejections before. It was the thing we both wanted most: a family. We’d dreamt of it. Discussed it to death. We were ready. Our hearts wanted so desperately to welcome a child into our expansive family of Strongs and Tuckers, a child to call ours, to share our love with, and maybe to someday burden with our wishes and dreams for their success—y’know, like a proper set of helicopter parents do.
Then the caseworker said: “Joshua has an older brother. Four years older. Marcus. The two have never been apart.” She adjusted her glasses, noting the surprise on our faces. “I know this may not have been what you were expecting to hear, but I assure you that Marcus is protective over his little brother. Smart, too, the both of them, cut from the same cloth. I think you’ll be mighty surprised.” She adjusted her glasses again, then winked at us. “They’re kind of a package deal.”
Tanner turned to me, stunned. I looked back at him, rendered just as speechless. “Love … makes room, or something. Right?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Then we met Marcus. Practically the spitting image of Joshua, only his eyes were sharper and less quick to trust what they saw. I should’ve known from that first day that Marcus was going to be the type everyone underestimates his whole life. He’ll solve world hunger. Or walk the surface of another planet. For a moment after the initial meet, we didn’t know what to say. Even Joshua, who we had spoken to before, seemed to close up with his older brother by him. Then a bird flew by like a gift from the avian gods and sent a rocket of poop hurtling toward Tanner, landing right on his shoe. All of us looked down at it, stunned speechless, until Tanner gave us a shrug and said, “Honestly, it’s an improvement.”
Then Marcus smirked, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
Joshua followed suit with a laugh, as if his brother’s smirk was some kind of unspoken permission to trust us.
And not a week later, the four of us shared our first day out at a mall in Fairview of all places, sitting in the food court with an assortment of random orders all around us, including tater tots, burgers, plate of orange chicken on a pile of mushy lo mein, half a turkey sub, and four different cups of fizzy drinks. And right in the middle of our very disorganized lunch, as Tanner grew flustered dishing out napkins, sauces, and plastic utensils, he said to me, “I guess our kids are gonna have to get used to the chaos soon, huh?”
The innocent question brought us all to a halt. Joshua stopped mid-sip. Marcus lowered his burger. Even Tanner turned into a statue, eyes wide.
Then he glanced at Marcus. “Uh … too soon? To … call you our kids? Did I just make everything super weird?”