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“Donnie's home! WOOO!!!"

The four Eriksson sibling rocked home in celebration of their brother's full recovery. Two days since he started showing signs of movement he was finally discharged from hospital with a clean bill of health, his only lasting impressions being mostly-faded bruises and the memory of the traumatic assault. Those were things he could handle better than brain damage.

They burst through the door excited and ecstatic. The hallway to their duplex was narrow, much like the building itself — squashed up against their neighbours with scarce space on the opposite side to have anything more than a driveway. The four of them were enough to completely crowd the place. Past the hallway lay the kitchen, to the right they had their front room, and the stairs to everyone's bedrooms sat on their left.

Inside, their parents were in the kitchen. Tony had been preoccupied with work after Donnie's awakening, but today he'd hung around the house waiting to greet his son. Uma, even though she'd remained by his side each day, needed a morning to herself. Michael, Cynthia, and Jacob had been the ones to pick him up using Michael's beater. As the four of them collided in the hall, the patter of paws on the hard floor reach their ears, followed shortly after by a bark.

“WOOF!"

“Axel!"

The family dog ran from the back of the house to the group, tail wagging, panting happily, unable to comprehend their cause for joy but delighted to take part in it nonetheless. Axel ran under and through the assorted pairs of legs, his tail whacking them as he moved by. The mutt found his mark in Donnie, and leaped, throwing his forelegs onto the young man's chest.

“What's that? You wanna hug?" Donald Eriksson asked the excitable canine. He was home. It had taken him a couple of days, but he was home at last. Well...until the move tomorrow.

“Hug? Count me in!" Cynthia interjected, throwing herself over Donnie and Axel.

“Ack! Not what I meant."

“Sorry guys, gotta run to my room," Jacob said, hurrying up the stairs. He was keen to start packing.

Axel had removed himself from the suffocating cuddle and returned to circling the three humans, his collar jingling as he went.

“I missed you," Cynthia said softly.

“We all did," Michael added.

“Hey, where was all this in the car?" Donnie asked, recalling a quiet journey home.

“I...dunno. Don't think it really hit us yet. Cynthia and I were on autopilot through most of the day," Mikey surmised, “it's great to have you back. And we're celebrating now, huh? Though I think Jacob might revert to his usual self..."

“Oh? What was he like?"

“Well, he got less...assholey (if that's a word)."

Cynthia nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he did his usual 'dudebro' stuff but it was less frequent."

“In that case I should get knocked unconscious more often!"

His sister frowned. “Don't joke Donnie!" She stepped past them. “Now you two play nice," she cooed, “I need to go to the bathroom."

“Fine. See ya sis," Donnie waved her off. Cynthia disappeared up the stairs, leaving him and Michael together.

“How are you?"

“Good."

“No really, how are you?"

“I'm fine Mikey."

“Seriously? You got mugged! You could've suffered brain damage! Don't you feel anything?"

Donnie averted his gaze, reaching a hand behind his back. “When you put it like that, I guess I felt some bad stuff."

“Don't bottle it up dude. You're too gentle to get angry 'bout it, but that's not the only thing you can feel." Michael — now fully taking on his brotherly responsibilities — put an arm on Donnie's shoulder. “By the way, did the police ever show up to talk to you when you were awake?"

“They did. I only told them what I saw."

“And did you recognise who it was? Could you tell what those punks looked like?"

“Naw. They were dressed in rough clothes an' hoodies. Couldn't work out anything about them, 'cept they were criminals."

“Well, yeah. Beating up a guy for money is a crime—"

“No I mean I knew they were already knee-deep in some kinda crime. They gave me that vibe, y'know?"

“Uh, well it's over now. Just gotta move on."

“Believe me Mikey, I am capable of doing that. Geez, you're starting to sound like Jacob."

Michael stopped in his tracks. “Whoa-whoa-whoah! Stop right there. I do not want to sound like Jacob, even if's being protective of you."

“Just back up a little, yeah? I'm seventeen, not a Let's go back to being brothers, not in the way Jacob wants me to be. Y'know...a protege." Jacob was the kind of person who wanted to mould Donnie in his image, under the guise of toughening him up, but that only worked when people want to change. Otherwise, it becomes annoying.

Michael chuckled. “Dude wants someone to cruise around town with and act tough. I hope where we're going doesn't have a gym, because then he'll never stop!"

Donnie joined his brother in a bout of cordial laughter. Axel had calmed down and sat eagerly at their feet, head bobbing between brothers when one spoke, as if the dog was trying to follow the conversation.

“C'mon, lets go and see mom and dad." Michael led his brother through, bringing him into the kitchen where Uma and Tony stood. Donnie had seen them once or twice since waking up, but now it felt like a proper reunion.

“We're glad to have you back son," Tony said. Uma didn't say anything, but the big smile on her face spoke volumes.

“So Michael, all ready?" Uma finally asked.

“I'll do it later mom," he rolled his eyes, “can't I spend time with Donnie?"

“You can spend quality time with each other when everything's packed and put away!"

Michael groaned.

“Packed?" Donnie asked.

“Well you are a bit outta the loop sweetie..." Uma approached him. “The move is tomorrow!"

“Wow, tomorrow?"

“Ain't that great!"

“Y'know what mom, it is!" Donnie liked this news. It would help him forget the recent past when he dwelled and walked in fresh surroundings.

* * *

“Did you not think to tell me?"

“Were you here?"

Tony went silent, shrinking under the disapproving gaze from Uma. The kids were far enough away to not hear their argument — one that was long overdue.

“I-I had work."

“Ah yes, 'work'..."

“I don't mean that," he said, looking at her with mournful eyes.

Uma turned away from him, arms crossed with her back to Tony's sullen form. “You had to ruin it, didn't you. Why couldn't you say no? What was it that made you fall for her?" Why can't you be a normal, decent husband?

Like you used to.

“I don't wanna say it."

“Tony, we've been avoiding the subject for too long. Spit it out!"

“Alright! I caved, okay! I wasn't strong and I did something I regret—"

She glared over her shoulder at him. “Oh right...you regret it. Not sure I believe you."

“Uma, honey," Tony shuffled towards her, his hands tentatively extended, awaiting a chance to lay themselves on her shoulders and soften her angry stance, “I was in a bad place. I had lots weighing me down. Work was getting out-of-control and I couldn't handle the stress. I just though..."

He hesitated. “No! I can't say it..." His voice wavered.

“Say what?"

“Please don't make me say it." Tony had now reached her, holding her with a careful tenderness.

“No," she barked, “I'm not letting you hide from this anymore!"

Tony pulled her close. “She..."

“She what?"

He gulped and spoke in a low tone: “she...she wore her hair the way you used to..."

“Oh my God!" Uma broke his embrace and spun around. “That's what got you started!? I knew you had a type when it came to looks but I'd never guess it was all down to fucking hair!"

“That's what went through my head when I felt it first," he shrugged. “I'm an asshole because of it. A prick. You're right. I wanted something superficial."

Uma moved over to the kitchen counter. She placed her hands on the counter-top, a sharp slap resonating through the room when she applied them onto the surface with force. She took a quick intake of breath and tried to let a small part of her rage fizzle out. His fucking secretary...because of her hair!? Fucking blonde whore!

“I hope she didn't remind you of my personality," she sniped. Tony failed to give her a response, his head pointed down, bearing a stoic expression.

“You are not in a position to complain about moving now," she added.

“I don't want to argue that point," he said, “if it suits us...if it suits the family...go ahead. I won't say nothing."

Uma continued to stare, looking daggers at her husband as his piece-of-shit decisions brought the world crashing down around her. She would deal with her feelings later. She had a technique. For now, she thought it best to let him stew in his own juices, rotting from the core...once she'd sufficiently sapped his spirit she'd visit her full rage upon him. It would have to be another time.

She leaned over the counter, prompting him to approach. Whispering angrily, she told him: “the only reason I'm not serving you with divorce papers right this moment is I think you're a reckless dumb idiot who thinks with his dick more than what's best for his family, 'cause his marriage was feelin' like a drag and it got stale. But don't let yourself think you're off the hook Tony, after I sort out the mess that is our move we will be separating. And the only reason I'm letting you tag along to this new house instead of kicking your ass to the curb is if you swear to me, on whatever you think is holy, to drop that brain-dead bitch from your personal list of 'people I can fuck', or so help me I'll find her and...and..."

Uma's hushed tirade began to falter. Emotions were welling up inside her, and her attempts to quash them only made them stronger. A loud blubber escaped her — she leaned heavily on the counter-top, her arms weak under the strain of her sense of betrayal.

Tony jumped into action, circling 'round the kitchen installation and comforting her. “Yes...it's horrible...shhh...it's okay, please don't cry..."

Uma looked up. Through tear-blurred eyes she saw Tony's own mixed feelings. Beneath an exterior that just wanted to avoid the issue altogether, a heart-rending blend of hopelessness and loss swirled. At least, that's what she saw in him. Whether that was the extent of it was left to her imagination, and she had no reason to open up their wounds further.

“We had something wonderful. I can't just let that go without a fight, can I?"

“No, you're right. We can't. Even if it doesn't work, if we don't try..."

“Remember, that woman...Brittany...that's her name yeah? She stays out of the picture. Regardless of whether we patch things up or not."

“I swear. I haven't laid a finger on her since you found us, and I won't be again," he said, his teeth grit.

“Step one of many. I don't wanna see our marriage go up in smoke just yet."

“Me too," he lied through his teeth.

“Here," Uma changed the subject, opening her laptop on the dining table, “let me show you where we're heading." Truthfully, the new place wasn't bad. Money from selling their current house fetched a tidy homestead in the small town of Carlyle. Uma scrolled through the information on the realtor's site, pointing out titbits to her husband.

“...you see?"

“How far is it to drive into the city...compared to here I mean?"

“Hmm? Ah, you're wondering about work. When you look at a map you'll find the distance is roughly the same, so you can still commute."

“That's good," Tony mumbled, “but, what will we do when we...finally go through with it?"

Uma paused. She looked like she was about to speak but kept losing her voice.

He continued: “I don't earn enough to support that kinda separation. Not properly."

“Tony, just...just leave it be for now. I'm not touching that load of shit until we're settled in." Uma had a few ideas for work — none of them particularly well-developed. She forced her husband to drop his inquiry, preferring instead to describe more of their new home.

They studied the site for a couple of minutes.

“Mom!" came Cynthia's cry from upstairs, “where did dad put Axel's leash?"

“Our room, on the bedside table on your mother's side," Tony answered in lieu of Uma.

“Don't forget to tell your brothers to keep packing," Uma shouted, “tomorrows a big day!"

Thundering footsteps echoed through the ceiling indicating a flurry of activity as the Eriksson siblings started preparations for the move. “They're all go today," Tony whistled. Uma smiled, he was right on that account. They did get their brother back, after all.

“We can play things business as usual for a little while," Uma said to her husband, “but don't give me another reason to get pissed, yeah?"

“Yeah. Cross my heart," Tony acted out his blessing, his index finger tracing two lines over his left chest.

Uma and Tony agreed to pause their bickering for the time being. Tony was surprised she was so willing to make a temporary reconciliation, but he wasn't privy to the truth of what Uma had committed in his absence. He kept his mouth shut, and nodded at all the right times; soon he'd exited the kitchen, an extension to their collapsing marriage secured.

“It'll be good for us. For the kids," Uma reminded herself, her meek words filling the empty space of the room.

* * *

That night, Uma sat alone in her bedroom, sinking into the mattress. Tony was away, running final errands, visiting the stores in the neighbourhood one last time. Expectations were high. The children were excited to finally leave. Uma would be glad to have a different atmosphere for her day-to-day life. Well...she should be glad, but things were never simple when you juggled crises...

Tony would be out, on his ass, soon. She wasn't settling on a time yet, but once the family were established in Carlyle she felt she could make that call. The kids would understand, when she explained their troubles in a sanitary fashion. And they could keep it civil.

Him being gone was one of two problems. The other was a trickier knot to undo. She made Jacob swear to never again try his luck with her, the night Donnie began to wake. Dredging the depths of her emotions that one time was already an unforgivable event in her eyes — a sin, though she cared not for religiosity. Could she maintain that distance?

Uma cried. But she was not without help. Kianna's gift lay in her open palm. She watched the silver pendant glimmer in the low light, its surface blemished by sharp lines running through it. Take those bad feelings and shove 'em inside, she repeated, forming a basic mantra. Shove 'em all inside.

Several times previously she wondered if she was becoming dependent on this coping strategy. Making it an obsession, a pattern she'd fallen into replicating over and over. But it felt...nice. Kianna's words were true, every day she poured her feelings into it Uma's soul grew lighter. It was having a psychological effect. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck that she bumped into that odd woman...

She still hadn't noticed the cracks on its marred body deepening.