Coming Home

Nolan closed the front door behind him and tossed his keys into the little green candy dish along with a quarter and a few dimes. He leaned his back against the door and took just a moment to let the events of the day melt off him. He inhaled the sweet-spicy smell of a butter curry and smiled. Along with the clinking of plates and the rap of a wooden spoon on the rim of a deep pan Nolan also heard the animated high-pitched chatter of his youngest daughter and the indulgent, deep-throated laughter of his wife.

He loved coming home. Quietly he placed his lap-top bag next to the hall closet and shrugged off his coat. His daughter was chirping some repetitive tune she’d learned in kindergarten and his wife hummed along an octave lower. Hanging his coat on the wall rack he leaned over to peer into the living room where the jaunty theme music of a video game was punctuated by explosive sound effects and the cartoon screeching of wheels. He saw his son’s head leaning to one side as the boy’s video game car swerved off the track. The rapid mashing of buttons accompanied a bouncing urgency and Nolan grinned.

He didn’t distract the boy.

He moved soundlessly toward the kitchen and stood just on the other side of the swinging door to listen.

The little girl piped happily: “And d’you know what else?”

“What else?” He heard his wife respond, and the refrigerator door squeak open. He had to oil that hinge. He could hear her sliding jars around.

“There’s also a bad wolf in the three little pigs.” Nolan’s smile stretched so wide he thought his face might split. He loved it when she sounded so professorial.

“Is that so?” Her mother responded, slightly distracted. “Did I already take out the chutney?”

“Yes!” The little girl said impatiently. “So he’s in Little Red Riding Hood, AND the three little pigs!” She announced conclusively.

“And Peter and the wolf.” Added his wife.

Nolan chuckled softly.

His daughter sounded alarmed. “Is that the same wolf?” Nolan had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing at her heightened pitch.

“I’d imagine so, wouldn’t you?” He heard the metallic snap and swish of the lid coming off the chutney. “Hand me that spoon?” A pause. “Thank you baby.” He listened as she spooned chutney into a serving bowl and started to salivate. He was hungrier than he’d thought. The turmeric and coriander pulled at his tastebuds.

“The wolf is everywhere.” The tremor in the little girl’s voice caught his breath in his throat.

“But he is not hiding in your closet! He lives only in stories.” Asserted her mother firmly.

“How do you know?” Nolan could imagine her hands on her hips.

Nolan took it as his cue and burst into the kitchen with a ferocious growl that caused the little ragamuffin to shriek and his wife to gasp. He grabbed up the shrieking girl and spun her around, tickling her mercilessly until she was a squirming, giggling mess. He kissed her on the cheek and hugged her close.

When she’d caught her breath she reprimanded her father sternly. “You scared me!”

He flashed her a grin. “I know.” He pretended to drop her and she gasped and clutched at his shoulders and then giggled. It was a game they’d played since she’d been a tiny baby. He chuckled and plopped her onto the kitchen counter.

His wife tsked. The children weren’t allowed on the countertops. He smiled a charming smile at his wife and she smiled back against her will.

“She’ll have nightmares for a month!” Zahra Delaney scolded her husband. But she was still grinning. “I almost spilled.”

He looked apologetic and leaned over to kiss her cheek. He whispered in her ear “You look gorgeous Zee.” Zahra sucked her teeth.

“Flatterer.”

He laughed deep in his throat and turned back to the little girl on the counter. “You won’t have nightmares, will you?”

His daughter shook her head, smiling.

“Of course not, because my Lola is the bravest girl I know!” He lifted her under her arms and she squealed jubilantly, stretching her arms out wide and pretending to fly.

“Not in my kitchen!” His wife cautioned loudly.

Deciding she was probably right and looking to avoid a stray foot kicking over the tandoor Nolan play-dropped Lola once more, to her shrieking delight, before setting her safely to the floor. She ‘awwww’ed but he ruffled her raven hair and she skipped back over to the kitchen table where she’d been coloring in an activity book.

“Smells wonderful” he said smoothly, moving to stand behind her as she stirred the curried vegetables on the stove. He slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. He kissed her shoulder and she sighed.

“Its almost ready” she purred. “Will you get the kids and have them help you set the table?” Zahra had a deep, throaty voice that reminded Nolan of a jungle cat.

He nipped her earlobe and she chuckled. He eased her away from the stove for a moment to gaze at her. “I don’t want it to bubble over—“ She said, distractedly glancing at the stovetop, but she allowed him to hold her, let the wooden spoon rest on the edge of the pan. “Hello.” She said with a small smile.

He looked into her deep, dark eyes and breathed in the scent of her. Light Lavender and earthy plumeria and just a hint of fresh, clean tea-tree oil in her thick, dark hair. And cinnamon. Always cinnamon. She was more gorgeous today than the day he’d married her. He kissed her wide, full mouth and felt her smile beneath his lips. She indulged his whim generously, returning the kiss fully.

“You keep kissing me like that and I’ll burn the naan.” She whispered against his lips.

“Well we can’t have that” he murmured, reluctant to let her go.

“No.” Her eyes were languid and he felt warm. Slowly he pulled out of the embrace with a look that promised they’d resume their activities later, when the kids had gone to bed.

“Lola, will you help me set the table?” He asked, his voice back to normal, a pleasant smile back on his face. His wife chuckled and bent to pull the Naan from the oven. He appreciated the roundness of her full ass for a longing moment before mentally shaking himself and mobilizing to his chore. It took all his self control not to reach over and caress the perfect curve of her backside. Four children had done nothing but increase Zahra’s curvy appeal.

“Ok!” Lola piped, and snapped her coloring book closed. She rushed to slip her crayons back into their box and he strode out of the kitchen toward the living room.

“Ajay?” A victory trumpet sounded and his seven-year-old jumped in celebration.

“I beat my time!” he exclaimed, pointing at the screen where cartoon characters were throwing confetti and applauding and one was holding a large golden trophy.

“Nice work!” Nolan enthused. “Good time to save and come help me set the table.”

Ajay only looked slightly disappointed. “Ok.” He turned back toward the screen and pressed a few buttons, pulling up a bright menu screen. “Hi dad.” He added absently.

“Hi buddy.” Nolan said, chuckling, as he headed for the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs he called: “Keer? Time for dinner.” And didn’t wait for a response. He headed back into the kitchen where Lola was dutifully setting out forks and spoons. She wasn’t allowed to carry the knives yet. Nolan looked toward the dishes his wife was plating, family style, and decided knives weren’t necessary anyway. He pulled dinner plates out of the cabinet and set them on the counter for Ajay, who walked in a little bleary eyed. “Here’re the plates.” Ajay grabbed the stack carefully and made his way slowly to the table, bent slightly backward with the weight. Next Nolan pulled down five glasses.

Hi wife made a little “ahem” noise and raised an eyebrow. He put one glass back and retrieved a durable pink plastic cup for Lola.

Keer entered the kitchen, a somber expression on her face. “Hi Dad.” She said as she crossed toward the glasses, taking two and crossing to set them on the table.

It was a well rehearsed routine and everyone knew their part. “Hi love!” Nolan responded jovially. “What’s up?” He wondered why any eleven-year-old should look so serious.

“Nothing.” She answered evasively. He groaned inwardly. He wasn’t ready for her to be a teenager. Not yet.

She crossed back to retrieve two more glasses but before she could do so he swept her into a crushing hug until she giggled. “Lemme go!!” She squeezed out at last but he only laughed and held fast.

“I didn’t hear the magic word!” He declared loudly. Ajay and Lola stopped what they were doing to watch, open mouthed and giggling.

“Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase!” She shrieked, turning a brilliant shade of red and laughing hysterically.

He relented and set her feet back to the floor. “Da-ad.” She reprimanded him, trying to restore some of her eleven-year-old dignity as she reached for the glasses.

He looked over her head at his wife who was smiling but shaking her head. “Come get the rice.” She commanded and he obeyed.

He carried the full plate of basmati to the table and went back for the platter of piping hot naan. Zahra carried over the curry and the tandoor and began to dole out portions to all the plates.

“Move Lola!” Ajay whined. The youngest two were clustered around the refrigerator.

“No!” She replied firmly.

“Drinks aren’t your job!” He said bossily. “Go get the napkins!”

“You get the napkins!” Lola pouted and doggedly refused to be pushed out of the way.

“Guys?” Nolan spoke the word in a gentle but warning tone.

“You’re too little.” Ajay insisted, ingnoring his father's warning and crossing his arms decisively infront of his puffed-out chest.

“Am not!” Lola’s hands went to her hips and she thrust out her chin defiantly.

“Lola, please get the napkins.” Crooned their mother calmly.

Lola pursed her lips and furrowed her brow so angrily Nolan had to bite his lips to keep from laughing at her.

“Why?!” She demanded, clearly furious at the injustice.

“Lola Jane Delaney.” Said Nolan calmly. “Your mother asked you to do something.” He fixed her with an expectant expression, his brows raised, his eyes all-business.

She pouted.

She shot her brother a rather nasty glare but removed herself from her stronghold in front of the fridge and stomped toward the napkins.

Nolan groaned softly when he heard the squeak of the fridge door hinges. He needed to oil that.

“Thank you.” Nolan said sweetly when Lola stalked over and began to disseminate the small paper squares. He met his wife’s eyes and saw she was trying not to smile as well.

Ajay walked carefully toward the table with an almost full gallon of milk and handed it to Nolan who set about pouring.

“Oh I forgot the Chutney.” Sighed his wife just as she’d settled into her seat. Nolan made a small gesture to Keer who hopped up out of her seat and grabbed the small copper dish and miniature spoon from the counter.

Nolan lifted tiny Lola into her booster seat, kissed the crown of Ajay’s head and sat down himself.

Zahra bent her head and opened her palms and spoke low and clear a Hindi grace. The children joined her and Nolan enjoyed the chorus of soft, murmuring words. He knew roughly what the words meant, having asked his wife, early in their courtship, to translate, but more than the literal meaning he enjoyed the sentiment. When the brief prayer was concluded his wife added an almost whispered epilogue, only a few words, and Nolan knew what that meant too.

He glanced at the empty chair and, though he was not a religious man, he added his own small, silent prayer. When he looked up his wife met his eyes and he gave her a ghost of a smile.

“This looks delicious!” He said with more energy than he felt, and encouraged the kids to chime in. Zee smiled widely and accepted the compliments. Neither looked again at the conspicuously empty place around the table.

Nolan inquired how school had gone that day, Zee asked about business at the shop. Keer announced the date of her band concert to which Lola added her desire to learn to play the harmonica. Ajay wanted to know if his friends could sleep over on Friday night, a decision his parents told him rested on his ability to get his chores done and keep his room clean.

The food was good and warm and filling and he insisted on cleaning up the kitchen while Zahra helped the kids with their homework in the den.

From where he stood rinsing dishes at the sink and filling Tupperware with leftovers he could hear Lola singing that sweet little nonsense song again, mixing in some A-B-C’s and Sesame Street, and Ajay trying to shout out answers to his addition and subtraction flash cards with record speed and Keer was doing her best to play “Hot Cross Buns” on her clarinet—it was nearly unrecognizable through the squeaks and flats. Nolan hoped that one wouldn’t be in the recital.

He closed his eyes for a long few minutes and let the very hot water wash over his hands. He concentrated on breathing deeply and exhaling fully. It had been more than three years since their family had been left incomplete. He swallowed and pushed air out through his lips. He missed his son every single day.