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“Did you call me just to ask what sound a goddamn unicorn makes?” Rhodes snapped. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Nope. It’s a serious question. You know about aliens—”
“I don’t know about aliens! I have theories,” he interjected. “There’s a difference.”
The distinction mattered to him enough that his irritation somehow doubled, which only made me laugh harder.
“What if unicorns are just aliens?”
“Fucking hell.”
“Oh, be nice, baby boy,” Mrs. Kennedy said.
The entire room changed at the sound of her voice.
“Hi, Mama K!” Wyatt and I greeted her instantly. Hearing her pop into conversations like this wasn’t unusual. I’d known her my whole life to the point that she’d practically adopted me as her third son, and the minute she met Wyatt, he became her fourth son. She’d fed us, yelled at us, cheered for us, and made sure none of us left her house hungry no matter how many times we insisted we’d already eaten.
“Hello, boys,” she replied. She sounded tired, more so than usual. Jude heard it too, and his smile vanished.
“I am nice,” Rhodes cut in. “They’re the ones asking what sound a fucking unicorn makes!”
“Well, I’d like to know,” she told him.
“Hey! Mama K for the win!” Wyatt exclaimed.
“You can’t be serious,” Rhodes continued as if he hadn’t heard us. “This is ridiculous.”
“And we’re stuck here for another three hours,” Mrs. Kennedy said.
Jude straightened, his frown deepening.
“Wait, are you at chemo now?” he demanded. Oh. Wyatt and I made ourselves busy. Neither of us looked directly at Jude. That was another unspoken rule we’d developed. When it came to his mom, Jude didn’t need us staring at him while he tried to keep everything together.
“We are,” she replied. “I got them to move my appointment up, so I could be at your first game.”
“Mom—”
“No buts, young man,” she interjected.
“I have her in the VIP area. She’ll be more comfortable that way,” Rhodes chimed in. That little notion made me smile. That was so painfully Rhodes. Of course he’d thought about where she’d sit. He probably researched the seats, bathrooms, stairs, temperature, accessibility, and whatever else could make the night easier before anyone else had considered it.
“Mom, you should stay at home tonight. You know how you feel after chemo,” Jude said. “Rhodes, what the hell are you doing letting her—”
“No one is letting me do a damn thing, Jude,” Mrs. Kennedy interrupted once more. “I haven’t missed a single game of yours or Rhodes’. Ever. And now both my boys are about to be in the same game together? You bet that hard-working butt of yours that I’m going to be there.”
There was no arguing with Mrs. Kennedy when she set her mind to something—a trait both her sons inherited. I knew that. Wyatt knew that. Both of her sons definitely knew that. And honestly, she had a point. This wasn’t just Jude’s first game of the season. It was also the first time both Kennedy brothers would be a part of the same game.
“Okay,” Jude relented. “Did you bring her blanket?”
“And her water bottle with a backup water bottle, her neck pillow, her headphones, and her slippers. And the doctor gave her Zofran already,” Rhodes informed him. “I’ve been around too, Jude. I can take care of her almost as well as you can.”
Jude went quiet. He’d struggled with Rhodes coming back. Taking care of Mrs. Kennedy had been his thing. He knew the appointments, the medications, what food she could tolerate, which blanket she liked when she was cold, and what kind of day usually followed chemo. Rhodes coming home meant Jude suddenly had to share a responsibility he’d built part of his identity around.
And Rhodes, to his credit, seemed to understand that. He never tried to bulldoze Jude out of the way or act like being older somehow made him more qualified. He let Jude correct him and let him be the expert when it came to their mom. Almost as well as you can. It wasn’t much, but judging by how Jude’s expression softened, it mattered.
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts,” Mrs. Kennedy cut him off. “Now, let your brother tell us about the sound unicorns make.”
