Refusing to Sink

“Good morning, Jordan.”

It was six a.m. on a quiet, cloudy October day, and the last thing Jordan Kauffman wanted to do was wake up and go to school. He had enjoyed the last few months off, enjoyed sleeping in every day and then waking to help life run as smoothly as possible. And honestly, although he would never admit it, Jordan was scared to go back. It had been so long. Not only had he stayed away for the three months of summer, but also an extra two--a time in which he had spent struggling to piece together the jagged remains of he and his family’s life.

Jordan forced a smile as he trudged down the staircase of his family’s new home, his bare size 11s making thudding noises on the wood. A plain white T-shirt hung loosely off of the boy’s broad shoulders, a complete contrast to the tanned skin of his arms. To the average eye, Jordan looked to be just another handsome teenage kid. Yet to his family, he was nothing but a spitting image of his father, such a painful resemblance, that his sister, one of the few members of his once-happy family that he had left, could barely stand to look at him for too long without the memories taking over. Jordan struggled to keep up the waist of his baggy sweatpants, which kept sagging and showing the band of his American Eagle boxers. But he just wasn’t in the mood to hear his four year old niece sing the “I see London, I see France” song for the third morning in a row. Instead, he held up his pants, nodding a scruffy, brunette head at his elder sister, Taelor, who was in the kitchen, carefully placing Pillsbury biscuits in a greasy pan, as he made his way toward the refrigerator.

“’Morning, Tae,” he sighed, bending down to see the contents of the fridge as he swung the door open and the bright light flooded his features.

His hand still throbbed from hitting the face of his blaring alarm clock, and he stared at the swollen red welt on his knuckles, still angry and frustrated that he had been woken from such an amazing dream. It was always the good dreams, the ones that made him smile so hard that he cried, that were interrupted; dreams in which he was young again, enjoying his childhood years with his family. They were the dreams in which his parents were still a part of his life, Danny was healthy, and Taelor was happy; the dreams that he so dreadfully wished were reality. He shook his head, hoping to shake away his thoughts as well, and reached back into the refrigerator.

“Ready for you first day?” Taelor looked up from the biscuits with a sly smile, winking at Jordan as he rummaged throughout the shelves, pushing items to the back and moving others toward the front, amiably searching for something in particular. Jordan grunted, setting a jar of sandwich pickles on the kitchen floor to make room for his large hands inside the small compartments.

He looked up for a moment, rolling his hazel eyes at Taelor, before bending down once more. Those eyes were one of the few differences between the two siblings. While Jordan had inherited the hazel irises, a color that shifted from green, to blue, to brown depending on the weather or the color of shirt that he was wearing, Taelor was blessed with two sparkling blues, an exact replica of the eyes that had belonged to their mother, and an identical set as to the ones of the sleeping child in the room behind her.

Taelor laughed, pushing a strand of dark hair behind one of her ears. She glanced into the living room, smiling when she noticed that Ava and Daniel were still asleep on the couch, where she had kindly moved them after waking them up from their night’s sleep with the running water of her shower a few hours before. Taelor focused her attention back on the makeshift breakfast that she was preparing. She loved to cook, as it was one of the few things that she could do and actually do well. She had tried knitting once, a few months before Ava was born in attempt to make her a little newborn-sized hat, yet had given up after ripping out her fifth knot. She had tried gardening, too, but her strange fear of worms had immediately shooed her away from the hobby when she sighted one crawling amongst the sprout of a tomato plant. It was cooking that she had finally turned to, finding recipes online or in her mother’s old cookbooks, and it was what she had resorted to ever since. Sighing, Taelor placed the remainder of the packaged biscuits into the pan and tossed the unraveled roll into the trash can.

“Haven’t taken a trip to the grocery store yet, I see,” Jordan observed, placing his hands on his knees. He was still gazing into the refrigerator, as if he hadn’t already scanned across every item there was to possibly find. He sighed heavily, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Taelor placed the pan of biscuits in the oven. “I don’t even know if this town has a grocery store, Jordan.” She walked around the kitchen, standing at her brother’s side. She placed a hand on his back, feeling the ridges of his spine beneath her palm, and laughed lightly. “Do you honestly think I would be making gravy out of a package if I had had the chance to buy the ingredients to make it homemade?”

Jordan looked up at her in surprise, his thick eyebrows creasing together. “You’re making package gravy?” he asked, shocked. Ever since Taelor had discovered her passion for cooking those few years ago, all she had ever cooked were homemade items; homemade bread, homemade sauces, and especially homemade gravy. Jordan loved his sister’s food, but loved her even more. Taelor was Jordan’s rock. She was the stability that he had so helplessly been searching for last year, when his world was falling apart, and she was the one who had been there by his side through every step of the way, bracing his constant fall. Right now though, he already had his sister. Instead, he was searching for the milk.

Taelor laughed again, retreating back to the covered bowl on the counter, containing the mixture for the God-awful packaged gravy. As if reading his mind, some sort of telekinesis that the siblings shared, she picked up the whisk and said, “If you’re looking for milk, I’m using the last of it for this shit.” She dipped the whisk into the mixture, cringing as it seeped through the metal tongs and back into the bowl.

Jordan groaned, slamming the refrigerator door so hard that the cabinets rattled. “Damn,” he mumbled, still holding up his sweatpants as he slumped into one of the chairs surrounding the small kitchen table. It was barely half the size of the dining room table they had back home, but it had came free with the house, so they kept it without complaint. His fingers began tracing the intricate golden patterns inscribed into the wood of the table’s edge. He silently cursed himself for still referring to the old house as “home”. This is home now, he reminded himself. It’s time for us to start over fresh.

“Mommy, what does ‘damn’ mean?” The voice was so soft and innocent saying such a word that Jordan immediately started into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He turned with a grin to find his four year old niece, Ava, rubbing the crust out of her sleepy eyes, the naïve question still lingering on her small, thin lips.

Taelor shot a look at Jordan, quickly walking over and bringing Ava up into her arms. That was another reason that Jordan adored his sister so much. She was such a good mother, a trait that she had, again, most definitely inherited from their own. Even before Ava’s birth, Taelor had loved children. She had that kindness about her that kids clung to, and she enjoyed every minute of the affection. Watching Taelor and Ava together, in Jordan’s eyes at least, was pure magic; a mother-daughter bond that seemed absolutely impossible to come between. “It’s what beavers live in, hunny,” Taelor said softly, and she reached up to push the dark hair out of her daughter’s eyes. She kissed her gently on the forehead, causing the little girl to smile in delight. Her tiny arms wrapped around Taelor’s neck, Ava’s beautiful little face nuzzled against her collarbone.

Taelor cooed in Ava’s ears, patting her back as she rocked her gently in her arms. “Do you like beavers, JoJo?” Ava yawned lightly, her eyes set on Jordan, who had rested his elbows on the tabletop and set his head in his hands.

Jordan looked up, startled by the mention of his nickname. He took in Ava’s fragile features for a few silent moments, noticing the similarities between she and her mother. The way the little girl pushed her long hair behind her ears; just like Taelor had minutes before. The dimples that formed in her cheeks when she smiled; two little indentions that matched Taelor’s perfectly. It was so strange, knowing that Taelor had became a mother so early, yet caught on so fast; as if she had been parenting for years. Jordan was, although he was embarrassed to admit it, jealous that Ava had the opportunity to grow up as the daughter of his sister. He grinned at his niece, his heart warming at the excitement on her face when he answered. “Of course, Avie. But I don’t like beavers near as much as I like you.”

Ava giggled, a noise so light and serene that it could have been used as a sound effect in a Hallmark card. Suddenly, her small arms were opened wide, and she was practically begging for Jordan’s embrace. Taelor gave the little girl another soft kiss on the cheek before handing her over to Jordan, who gently placed Ava on his lap and began bouncing her on his knee.

“So, speaking of groceries.” Taelor turned her attention back to the gravy on the counter, frowning as she began mixing again.

Jordan raised an eyebrow, smiling lightly as Ava began tugging on the drawstrings of his sweatpants, twisting them together and failing to make a bow. “We were talking about beavers, Tae,” he said with a laugh, “not groceries.”

Taelor shrugged off the comment and the hilarious truth with a strange flick of her hand, looking exasperated as she continued stirring the gravy with no great results. “Whatever,” she said, frustrated, and she slammed the whisk down on the counter, splattering the gray mixture across both the kitchen cabinets and her face. “Will you please just try and find a supermarket on your way to school, then pick me up some things on your way home?” She swiftly retreated to the knick-knack drawer by the stove, her face still polka-dotted with gravy. Her hands moved a mile a minute as she found a notepad and pen, and began scribbling down her grocery necessities.
“You do understand that I legally am not supposed to drive, nor do I have a vehicle even if I could, right?” Jordan scratched at the scruff on his chin. He would definitely have to shave that before he left if he planned on making a good first impression.

Taelor sat the pen down, examining her list before she handed it over to her brother. “Yes. I understand that,” she said. “But this town isn’t that big, I’m sure it wouldn’t be far from the school.” She paused, wiping at invisible crumbs on the counter before she looked up and met Jordan’s eyes. “Or,” she began again, her voice careful, “maybe you could get a ride from someone…”

Jordan rolled his eyes at her words, bending down and letting Ava stand. “For the last time, Taelor,” he said with frustration, “I’m not going back to make friends. I’m going back to graduate and get the hell out of there as fast as I possibly can.”

Taelor’s eyes were steady on her brother’s, soft and solemn as she did her best to try and get through to him, but she knew that it was no use. Jordan was stubborn. He did what he wanted, and nothing but. Yet Taelor was still desperate for him to change his mind; at least about some aspects of his fresh arrival to high school.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice barely even a whisper. She slowly nodded in agreement with Jordan’s words, although her heart said otherwise.

“Tae-Tae?”

At once, all three people standing in the kitchen directed their eyes to the living room doorway, where Danny’s tired voice had come from.

“We’re coming, bud,” Jordan called back to his little brother, the youngest of the three, as he got to his feet. He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. Mornings were always the hardest for him. Not only did he despise having to get out from beneath his sheets, but he dreaded having to witness Danny suffer.

Taelor broke the short silence that followed. She forced a smile at her daughter, the pain evident in her eyes. Taelor gently brushed the hair out of Ava’s wide eyes and planted a kiss on her forehead before pushing her toward the living room. “Go help JoJo wake Danny up, Ava, and then you can come help Mommy finish breakfast.”

Ava grinned, shouting an excited “okay!” as she reached up for Jordan’s hand. She was the only one who was too young and far too innocent to truly understand why everyone around her was always so sad. Despite the realization, Jordan grabbed her hand, his mind many places as he followed his niece in the opposite direction to retrieve Danny’s wheelchair.