Let's Be Frank by Brea Brown Read Free Book Online

about me, alright? I’m fine. Do I wish you hadn’t made Nick ask me to be his best man?” She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off, laughing. “Trust me, I know that was your doing. I’m sure he has six or seven golfing buddies he’d rather have asked.”
    “He only has one brother.”
    “And I bet he’s thankful for that most days.”
    “You joke, but he loves you. This has been stressful for him. You know, he almost broke up with Heidi before it got too serious, because he was so worried about you. I convinced him you’d be fine, that you only wanted him—and Heidi—to be happy.” She hugs my arm. “Don’t prove me wrong.”
    Pulling my third beer from the ice, I say, “I am fine,” punctuating my statement with the hiss and pop of the can’s pull tab. “I’d be better if they’d refrain from playing tonsil hockey in front of everyone, but… I guess you can’t have everything.”
    She laughs. “Gosh, that went on forever! I almost reminded them their parents were in the room, but I didn’t want to sound like a fuddy-duddy.”
    “Speaking of parents, plural, where’s Dad?” I ask, hoping to permanently change the subject.
    “Oh, he’s around somewhere. Watching the game, most likely.”
    I’m not all that concerned or interested in his whereabouts for his sake. I’m more curious as it relates to me. I’d prefer not to be cornered for a man-to-man today. I know he’s only trying to help, but sometimes his heavy-handed pep talks do the opposite of what he’s intending, and they depress the crap out of me.
    With a parting pat on my bicep, Mom says, “Slow down on those beers, huh? Load up a plate and go watch the game.” She moves off, flagging down Heidi’s mom to compliment her on the food and the decorations.
    I look down into the nearly empty can in my grip and sigh. She’s right; nothing good will come from getting drunk at this thing. At the very least, I’ll have to get someone to drive me home. But I’ll need to keep drinking to watch the game. It’s a real conundrum.
    Not hungry—at all—I decide to seek out some different company, some people with whom I’m more comfortable. Since I’ll be forever relegated to the kids’ table at these joint family things, I might as well get chummy with my peers.
    *****
    When I round the bottom of the basement stairs, I see ten kids, aged nine and younger, clustered around a board game on the floor. It almost physically hurts to look at some of them, especially Heidi’s sister Sonya’s three blond boys, because they look so similar to the mental image I once had of the kids in my fantasy life with Heidi.
    Most of her nieces and nephews were babies when she and I broke up, so they don’t remember me, but the oldest ones do. I stitched Kingsley’s eyebrow when he split it open on the corner of a coffee table one Christmas. He’s the first one to acknowledge my presence now.
    “Hey, Uncle Nate!” The nine-year-old, unaware the title he’s given me no longer fits, scrambles to his feet and points to the board on the floor. “We’re gonna talk to dead people with the Ouija Board.”
    His announcement shakes loose my irrational and self-indulgent melancholy, and I have to stifle a laugh. “Cool. Mind if I play?”
    Seven-year-old Remus scoots so I can squeeze between him and his four-year-old brother, Percy. I place my hand on the pointer, or planchette, and wiggle my eyebrows across the board at Hermione. The eight-year-old giggles.
    “We’re gonna ask to talk to our Grandma June. She died,” Hermione informs me.
    “I heard about that,” I say seriously, “and it made me sad. I liked Grandma June.”
    June, who’s been dead for a couple of years now, was Heidi’s grandma and the kids’ great-grandmother. She and I kept in touch after the break-up, and she once confided in me that she thought I was probably better off without Heidi.
    Oh, Grandma June… I wish you were here today.
    In addition to Greta’s gang,