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It was the finality in her voice when she shouted for him to get his things and leave that hammered home the knowledge that life as he knew it would never again be the same. Andrew looked to his older brothers for guidance, for reassurance, but for once, Johnathan's expression was closed off as he stared into the distance, his fingers tight and white knuckled around his basketball. Scott's thoughts obviously were somewhere else as well, the only indication that he might have had an inkling of what was going down in the way his mouth had pinched in the corners. No one dared breathe loudly, each of them sitting there in silence in J's room and trying not to move. Perhaps if they were extra good their father wouldn't really leave them, their mother wouldn't really make him move out.
When Frank Sullivan stopped and looked in on his sons, his suitcase at his feet, each of them returned his solemn look, too scared to say a word at first. It was the sadness in his father's eyes that devastated Andrew the most. At five, he was still allowed to be a baby and the tears ran unchecked over his cheeks as he hurled himself toward the tall man in the door. Trying to imagine a life without him there in their house was a concept too frightening to comprehend. "Don't go, Daddy, please!" He clutched at his trousered leg, chubby arms wrapped in a death grip that took both Johnathan and Scott to break. They each clung to a hand and regarded their father with silent, accusatory, pained expressions.
"I'll see you this weekend," he rumbled hoarsely before grimacing at the snotty face print Andrew had left behind on his leg. "That's enough of the crying, young man. It's time to grow up, Andrew. Men don't cry. Now stop it." His voice struck like a whip, his eyes lost whatever emotion they'd revealed a moment before. He held the youngest boy's gaze until his whimpers faded to the occasional hitched breath. Frank nodded at the three and took up his bag, then turned without a backwards look and walked out the door.
The tinkling sound of glass on tile told him that his charmed existence had finally ended. He'd managed to keep the little bundle of fur hidden and a secret from everyone for two days but there was no one else home with him save Simba, the kitten he'd rescued from the dumpster behind the science building after school on Monday. It had taken all of his allowance money to pay for a litter box and everything else needed to maintain a small cat, and she (Or was it a he?) had seemed content to sun itself on the patch of light on his bed while he was at school. He found the scene of the crime in the kitchen where the small fishbowl with Scott's beta had shattered. The fish was nowhere to be seen at first, and then Simba came trotting back into the room, tail held proudly erect and the reddish-purple tail of his brother's pet sticking out its mouth. He groaned and shook his head as he squatted beside the purring feline and scratched between its ears; he was tapped out on money and couldn't afford to get a look-alike fish for his brother. The sound of the door opening brought his head up sharply and he met the rightly accusatory look from his mother and older sibling with a gulp. "Hi."
Johnathan had often picked up the slack where Frank left off, being the one to encourage his younger brothers, to support their interests and to ease the hurts as best he could when their father had been sharper with his comments and criticisms than he likely realized. When his oldest brother first brought Celeste around, Andrew had immediately taken to her. She wasn't the typical girl of Johnathan's teenaged years. She was pretty -- but not in a glamorous way -- and she was smart, but she was also fun. He supposed having three brothers of her own had helped in that regard but he liked her all the same until J started to spend all of his free time with her instead of him.... First, it had been Christmas, and then it was Scott's graduation. They were planning to move in together when she relocated to L.A. that fall and Andrew knew he had to say something, to let J know how hurt he was that the man he'd always looked up to had fallen out of his life. He didn't know how, though, and it scared him even thinking about it, so he was sullen and uncooperative by turns. When he accidentally entered the wrong tent their first night camping and Johnathan confronted him about his behavior Andrew's fear hit a fever pitch; it was now or never.
She was his best friend and soul mate, the part of him he'd never known was missing until he'd had to get by without her there in his life. He was torn between rage and pity when he learned what her family had put her through during her trip home for her sisters' graduation, and then fear when he realized that she was dead serious about making a decision. Andrew felt his entire existence come to a screeching halt. He couldn't stop her much as he wanted to; he couldn't make the choice for her. In those moments while they waited for her family to gather around the phone for her announcement, the self-righteous anger and concern faded to be replaced by stark terror that he wasn't good enough, that the woman he loved more than life itself would bow to her family's wishes and leave him behind with nothing more than a shattered heart.
She'd lost the freedom and ease of her pre-pregnancy mobility early on, unable to get places on her own since she hadn't fit behind the steering wheel of the car after her sixth month. She'd pressed onward determinedly as only Maile could, but by the end of her seventh month, she couldn't remain at work any longer, either. With her belly as large as it was, she was unable to reach her keyboard, which rather put a crimp in how she got things done. She needed to depend on others to do things she normally could and to take her places. Her stomach grew with each passing day, their twin sons obviously as rambunctious as their mother was if the way they seemed to be constantly moving within her was any indication. Andrew knew Maile was uncomfortable, but she never complained and if anyone had a right to, it was she. There was a peace to his wife that he'd never seen in her before and he knew it was directly connected to the two lives they'd created.
Most mornings she would wake up, stretch and then she'd roll onto her other side to face him. Her sunny smile would stretch from ear to ear as she'd grab his hand and put it over her distended belly so he could feel their sons' antics. Something was different today. Maile was still on her side, tension in every line of her back and breathing heavily. The fog of sleep evaporated and he leapt out of bed, circling to the side so he could look at her face. She was pouring sweat, her skin grey. "Kananinohea, what's wrong?" She looked at him through pain-filled eyes. "It's time, Andrew."
Andrew hadn't counted on the fear that accompanied her announcement. The next hours were a blur, the scariest moments of his life. He drew on her serenity even in the face of what had to be debilitating pain, taking in her calm and trying to make it his own. It didn't stop his subconscious from imagining worst-case scenarios, however. He wasn't sure he'd be able to face the future without her if anything should go wrong and he struggled against the horror he felt at trying to imagine a life without his wife by his side. His terror lay just under the surface and he couldn't let it go, not even when he'd heard two lusty wails as first one baby and then the next was born. It wasn't until she'd looked up at him through tears of happiness as she held their twins to her heart some time later and whispered, "Thank you for my babies," that he was able to let go of the fear of losing her, and then it was replaced with a new one: fatherhood.