Country songs playing on the radio, Dad Joe's old pickup truck, the sunset over the wheat fields behind the farm, drinking around a campfire.
Daniel is back in Silky Oak to celebrate his sister's wedding. There, he left a life he misses more than...
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<<You're an idiot.>>
That was the good morning I gave my brother when I stepped out onto the patio and found the box of snacks I had just spent half an hour searching for, with sleepy eyes and a grumbling stomach. The box was carelessly thrown on the table, and most importantly, empty.
<<I know, my friends told me last night,>> River replied, turning to look at me with his mouth still full of my favorite snacks.
<<That's not the issue anymore,>> I said, moving toward him threateningly until I grabbed his face with both hands, preventing him from chewing. <<I'd like to make you spit it out.>>
<<What did I do?>> he asked, or at least that's what it seemed he tried to ask. The words came out more like <<Wha fi fai I do?>> due to the food stuffed in his mouth.
<<You ate all my snacks,>> I explained, letting him go just before he choked. River's dramatic fake coughing attracted the attention of Josie, our mother, who peeked out onto the patio to make sure both her children were alive and well.Meanwhile, I kept staring at my brother, shaking my head, wondering when he would finally grow up enough to fight his battles without running to Mommy. Physically, River didn't even look his age. Tall and lanky, with a tuft of brown hair always covering his face and softening his sharp features, he had the air of a refined boy who had just graduated from a private college. However, River had never been to college—he could barely, in my opinion, write his name without messing it up—and he had a knack for getting in trouble, which clashed with his good-boy appearance. Despite all this, he was the household's favorite, more than I had ever been.
<<Car tried to kill me,>> he said, gulping down half the glass of milk in front of him.
<<Car, that's no way to behave,>> Mom scolded, stepping out of the kitchen and taking a seat next to her beloved River. Luckily, reinforcements arrived soon after.
<<What's going on here?>> asked George, our father, approaching the table with the usual sound of his mud-covered boots clomping on the patio's wooden floor.
Mom seemed to have a minor heart attack just hearing that sound but pursed her lips to stop herself from saying anything. Convincing Dad not to walk around the house in those boots was a battle lost before it even began
.<<Your son stole my snacks,>> I explained, throwing myself onto the chair next to the one Dad was about to sit in. I felt like an idiot, too, right after saying that. But the truth is that River and I enjoyed teasing each other like we did when we were kids. It was one of those things I hoped would never change. River and I didn't have much to share, we didn't often open up to each other—in fact, it had never happened—but we knew we had our bickering to keep us bonded.
<<Your daughter tried to strangle me,>> the boy across the table retorted, pointing a finger at me that was still smeared with the chocolate from my snack.
