Twenty-Five

 

The Breakfast Club

 

Ari floated contentedly in the cocoon that dangled midway between sleep and wakefulness in her New Jersey bed, swaying to the tune of a silent lullaby until the scent of buttery pancakes seeped into her chrysalis.  The rich, decadent fragrance tapped her consciousness, cut by sharp citrus and lifted by the aroma of coffee strong enough to peel paint.   Muffled by sleep and covers, a child’s laughter lilted and melded with rumbling adult voices and clattering dishes like a foggy memory.

 

She shifted under the covers without opening her eyes, letting the sounds swirl around her cozily wrapped body like a whispering – or maybe shouting- breeze. 

 

A thud.  Someone yelling about spoons.   

 

She smiled into the pillow. Her dreams didn’t usually come with a sound design this detailed.

 

Then came a jab in her side, piercing her little cocoon.  Knuckle, elbow, knee… whatever it was, it wasn’t accidental.

 

“Hey!” she groaned, half-laughing, not even bothering to lift her head. She wasn’t ready to be a butterfly just yet.  Caterpillar life was still too comfy.

 

Jon’s voice came from above her, rough with sleep but smug. “You gonna sleep through a full-scale breakfast riot?”

 

Okay.  Maybe she could be a slow butterfly.  She cracked one eye open to find him standing on her side of the bed, already dressed. 

 

“Thought I was dreaming,” she said, rolling onto her back with a dramatic sigh.

 

“Nightmare or fantasy?”

 

She stretched, bones cracking, hair a mess. “Too early to tell.”

 

Jon smirked. “Well, the dog’s licking syrup off the floor while chasing Bella.  Lily and Rocco are tossing your Fruit Loops, and my mother is threatening Matt and me for egging it all on. 

 

That pulled a laugh out of her – quiet, tired, genuine.

 

Downstairs, laughter erupted again, louder this time.

 

They were definitely home.

 

They’d landed late last night after the Raleigh show, dropped the bags in the hallway, and fallen into bed. The older kids had come the house the day before with Carol and John, while Matt and Desiree looked after Lily.  And now…

 

Her mother-in-law was downstairs in the kitchen like a short order cook, as the rest of the house had started without her.

 

Jon bent to kiss her. “Now get that ass moving, Sleeping Beauty. I’m going to need more coffee before Dot gets here.”

 

Ari groaned and threw an arm over her face. But a moment later she tossed back the covers and sat up pulling her hair into a messy bun. She grabbed the first piece of clothing she could find, shoved her arms through the sleeves, and padded toward the door after him, chasing the smell of pancakes and the sound of her life in motion.

 

A pale gray light seep through the windows, soft and heavy as if the sky were holding its breath. The air had that sharp metallic scent–snow was coming.

 

The kitchen pulsed with warmth and motion, a stark contrast to the cold pressing in beyond the glass. Ari stepped into the swirl of clinking dishes, overlapping voices, and the smell of bacon that wasn’t there before.

 

“Aunt Ari! Rocco threw a pancake at my head.” Bella yelled, already sticky and outraged.

 

From his highchair, Rocco giggled and smacked his tray with both hands. “Uh-oh!” he chirped.

 

Carol, flipping something at the stove, did even turn around. “He missed, didn’t he?”

 

Ari grinned, crossing to the island. Cereal boxes lay open like forgotten books, a small splash of milk pooling beside one. A half-eaten stack of pancakes sagged on the platter, leftovers from the kids too impatient to wait for round two.

 

“Is that juice freshly squeezed?” she asked, reaching for a glass.

 

“Of course,” Carol replied, handing one over.

 

“Thanks,” Ari said with a smile.

 

Meaty snuffling noises drew her eyes downward. Meatball, the ever hunger mutt, was already deep into crumb patrol, tail wagging harder than his nose could keep up. Ari smirked. He knew breakfast with this crowd was goldmine.

 

Her gaze landed on the dueling highchairs, where Lily and Rocco were in full chaos mode. Giggling between mouthfuls of banana mush, stolen Fruit loops, socked feet kicking wildly.

 

“You two are a mess,” she said, crouching down to wipe their sticky fingers, unsuccessfully.

 

Their wide eyes followed her every movement, utterly delighted. She ruffled their hair and gave up, laughing as Lily shrieked and flung another handful of cereal onto the floor.

 

In the breakfast nook, the older kids bantered like it was their job—teasing, snorting, barely breathing between insults and laughter. It had a rhythm Ari recognized. A scene she used to watch unfold in Max’s house.

 

Now, somehow, it was hers.

 

She soaked up every moment they had with the older kids. Soon, the house would be quiet again. Too quiet. Dorothea would be arriving any minute to whisk them off for the rest of spring break–sailing the Caribbean with their other cousins on a yacht. 

 

Courtesy of Jon. 

 

Or, more accurately, courtesy of Dorothea insisting Jon pay up for ‘derailing’ her vacation plans with his need of having them with us in Canada for a few shows.

 

Not that Jon would ever object. He’d do anything for his kids.

 

But still.

 

The sudden chime of the doorbell cut through the chatter, and Ari glanced toward the front of the house, already knowing who it was.  A breath of silence passed through the kitchen, just enough to shift the energy.

 

Romeo’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with excitement. Before anyone could stop him, he was out of his chair, socks sliding on the tile floor as he bolted for the door. 

 

Ari winced. “How does he do that without falling?”

 

Jon didn’t even look up. “Years of practice.”

 

“Mom!” Romeo’s voice echoed back towards them, followed by the unmistakable creak and whoosh of the front door flinging open.

 

Footsteps echoed in the foyer, heels sharp and precise against the tile. A moment later, Dot appeared in the doorway, backlit by the overcast morning. She was casually dressed in all black, pressed and pristine.  Oversized sunglasses rested on her nose, and not a single hair was out of place, despite the wind outside.

 

She paused just shy of stepping in. Her gaze wept over the chaos: pancakes sagging on platters, two shrieking toddlers in highchairs, and laughter coming from the breakfast nook.

 

That familiar tight smile formed slowly, like she was building it piece by piece. Then, in one smooth motion, she slid her sunglasses off.

 

“Well,” she said. “Isn’t this cozy.”

 

“You’re early,” Jon said, rising from his chair and setting his mug down with a soft clink.

 

Dorothea glanced at the kitchen clock, then her watch, as if double-checking which one was lying. “We’re on a tight schedule. I figured I’d beat the weather.”

 

Her eyes drifted back across the room again, taking it all in before landing on Ari.

 

“Ari,’ she said, clipped and cool.

 

Ari straightened, both hands resting lightly on the back of Lily’s highchair. Her smile quiet. Polite. Carefully unreadable.

 

“Morning, Dorothea.”

 

Behind them, Meatball let out a single bark.

 

“Dot’s mouth twitched. “Still letting the dog in the kitchen, I see.”

 

Ari didn’t blink. “Still finding things to complain about, I see.”

 

“Some things never change,” Dot muttered with a dry exhale.

Ari didn’t bother to smile just crossed her arms casually over her chest. “Lucky for us.”

 

Carol stepped in smoothly, a dish towel still slung over her shoulder.

 

“All right,” she said in that no-nonsense tone that made everyone sit up a little straighter, “kids, time to wash up and make sure your bags are packed.

 

Chairs scraped. Feet shuffled. The kitchen shifted into motion. Even the adults started scurrying to clean up.

 

Carol turned towards her once daughter in law, offering a small, practiced smile. 

“Dot, would you like coffee while you wait.”

 

Dot gave a clipped shake of her head. “I’ll be in the car.”

 

Without another word, she turned and disappeared down the hall, heels clinking sharp again the time.

 

As her heels faded down the hall, the kitchen’s warmth seemed to deepen, as if the house was reclaiming its own rhythm.  Ari took a slow breath, grounding her back to this moment, to the messy, chaotic joy of family. 

 

Jon leaned against the counter, watching the little kids with tired eyes that still sparkled in the morning light. He caught Ari’s glance and raised his mug in a small, silent toast. She returned the smile, her fingers brushing briefly against his arm. In that moment, no words were needed. 

                                                                   

The older kids reappeared from the hall, backpacks slung over their shoulders, faces bright with anticipation and a trace of bittersweet goodbyes. Stephanie spotted Ari lingering neat the highchairs and veered toward her, Jesse and Jake trailing behind like back up dancers. 

 

“We forgot something,” she announced.

 

Aril blinked. “Phones? Chargers? Nintendo DS?”

“Nope. Baby names.” Steph gave her a cheeky grin. “Critical business before we depart.”

 

“Oh no,” Ari said, already laughing.

 

Jesse flopped onto one of the counter stools. “It’s important, Ari. You can’t let a baby enter the world without a solid name strategy.”

 

Jake had already wedged himself beside Lily’s highchair again, who was picking up Fruit Loops.

“We made a list,” Jake said. “And don’t worry. I crossed off Diesel.”

 

Ari smirked. “Thank God!”

 

“But I left on Optimus. Just in case,” he added quickly.

 

Romeo reappeared, dramatically skidding to a stop beside them. “Tell her the good one.”

 

Steph opened the Notes app on her phone. “Okay. Official list, so far.”

 

Ari rested both hands on her bump and gave an exaggerated sigh. “This poor child. Alright. Hit me.”

 

“First up, Maverick,” Jesse said grinning.

 

“Thought I kiboshed that one already.” Ari said instantly.

 

Steph didn’t miss a bet. “Fine. We move to the nature-vibes section. River, Indigo, Sage…”

 

“Do I look like a hippie?” Ari teased.

 

Jon passed by with a fresh mug of coffee. “Indigo’s not bad. Could call them Iggy.”

 

“Iggy Pop or Iggy Azalea? Jesse asked.

 

Ari groaned. “Next.”

 

“Alright, next up: retro-cool names,” Steph said. “Lenny, Junie, Teddy, Cleo.”

 

Romeo bounced on his toes. “What about Cosmo?”

 

Steph game him a look. “We said no space name after the Thanos incident.”

“Cosmo’s cool!” Romeo argued. “He could be a superhero.”

Jake leaned in and whispered to the bump, “Don’t worry. You won’t be Cosmo.”

 

“Oorrrr,” Romeo said proudly, “Princess lasagna.”

 

Jesse sighed. “He watched Garfield last night.”

 

Ari crouched and pulled him into a quick hug, laughing. “Thanks buddy, but I’m gonna have to veto those as well.”

 

“Still think Diesel has potential.” Jon called from the doorway.

 

Ari turn and pointed. “Get out.”

 

The kids cracked up, laughter echoing through the kitchen. Ari stood still for a moment, soaking it in, their voices, their jokes, and their absolute refusal to take anything seriously for longer than ten seconds.

 

The moment stretched, warm and golden, before shifting as it always did.

 

Jake crouched beside Lily’s, his voice soft but steady.  “Bye, Stinkerbell. I’ll see ya soon.”

 

Lily enthusiastically clutched her big brother’s face with both hands, while Romeo bounded over to Meatball, kneeling to ruffle his dog’s ears. “I’ll miss you, buddy.”

 

Jesse and Stephanine followed suit their goodbyes sprinkled with laugher and quick hugs, gratitude spilling from every word.

 

Ari felt a pang in her chest, a mixture of pride and the ache of letting go, even just for a little while. 

 

Jon’s voice cut through the moment gently, “Let’s not keep your mother waiting.” 

 

With a final round of hugs, promises to call, and waves, the older kids headed out — the house quieter now, but still full of love.