1: 1
My parents moved into a new place, and the front-gate security registered the faces of both dogs, but somehow left out mine, their own son.
I went downstairs to walk the dog and found I couldn't get back in.
I called my mother. Her voice was flat with impatience.
"Aren't the dogs with you? Both of them are in the system. Just pick one up and scan it open."
I hauled the fifty-pound golden retriever up into my arms, and sure enough, the gate opened.
I ranked below the dogs.
Once I was inside, the hurt got the better of me.
"Couldn't you register me too?"
My mother's face darkened. "There's only room for five faces. If you take one, what happens when Kerry Sullivan comes home?"
I'd almost forgotten. I had a wonderful little brother, all the way overseas.
"He hasn't been back in years…"
I settled for less. "Then just remove one of the dogs."
My father flared up at once. "Kerry bought those dogs. If he comes home and they can't get through the door, he'll be heartbroken."
"You ungrateful thing. We're already miserable not seeing Kerry, and here you are twisting the knife. Those dogs know how to make people happy. You don't."
He snatched the leash out of my hand and slammed the door, furious.
I stared at the little screen on the gate panel. It kept mechanically repeating three words: unrecognized stranger.
Fine, I thought. A home I can't get into isn't a home I need to enter.
1
The motion-sensor light in the stairwell had gone out long ago, and there was nothing left but the dark wrapped tight around me.
The family group chat, silent for so long, suddenly came alive.
My brother Kerry, still overseas, sent a message.
"Mom, I'm at the airport already. I'll be home tomorrow."
My mother answered instantly with a video of the new bedroom.
A wide, bright master bedroom, everything in it brand-new, high-end custom furniture throughout.
The oversized closet was packed with this season's newest clothes.
"Kerry's room is all ready, only the best of everything, just waiting for our precious boy to come home."
My father followed right behind.
A little space just for the family's two golden retrievers, right next to Kerry's bedroom.
Cushions, toys, and treats arranged in neat rows, cozy and picture-perfect.
"The dogs' room is right beside yours."
Watching all that warmth on the screen, something in my chest felt like a wet towel had been stuffed against it.
Back in the old place, I'd slept on a mat on the living room floor, night after night.
When we moved into the spacious new home, I thought I'd finally have a room of my own.
Instead they'd given each of the two dogs their own room, and put me on a mat in the storage closet.
No one remembered that I was a son of this family too.
The next second, Zoe Gilbert's familiar profile picture popped up.
"Welcome home, Kerry. I'll come to the airport with everyone to pick you up tomorrow."
I opened my chat with her.
Half an hour earlier, crouched in the doorway, I'd been so miserable.
"The new gate registered the dogs' faces but not mine. I'm locked out and can't get back in."
No reply.
I scrolled up. The whole thread was one solid column of green: me, talking to myself.
The last time she'd answered me was half a month ago.
The group chat was still buzzing away, and no one thought of me, forgotten out in the stairwell.
I knocked three times. Not one person answered.
"Tomorrow the whole family is going to the airport to welcome our precious Kerry home."
The light leaking out through the window went dark.
I curled up alone in front of the door, the stairwell black and dead silent.
The hurt rose in slow waves from somewhere deep down.
I opened Zoe's chat and typed, my fingers shaking.
"Zoe, could I stay at your place for the night?"
The same woman who'd answered my brother in the group chat within seconds ignored me again.
A dense, prickling ache spread across my chest.
I buried my face in my knees and pushed down the sting behind my eyes.
I counted the time, minute by minute, and finally made it to dawn.
Through the heavy door I could hear my mother clearly, humming a cheerful tune.
My father murmuring to the dogs.
"Your big brother comes home today. Aren't you happy?"
They finished getting ready, pulled the door open, and finally saw the state of me.
There was no guilt, no remorse like I'd imagined. Instead the blame came down on me all at once.
"Your brother's about to land, and you're crouched in the doorway in the same clothes? What kind of look is that?"
My father's face was livid.
"Did you do this on purpose? Trying to make sure your brother isn't welcomed home?"
"You cold-hearted thing. Selfish since you were little, always wanting everything for yourself, can't even stand your own brother!"
I'd crouched so long my hands and feet were numb and swollen.
I braced against the floor and tried for a long time before I could slowly get to my feet.
"You locked me out last night. There's no face for me on the gate. I couldn't get in."
My mother's eyes went still for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing them.
She turned her face away and waved a hand, impatient.
"Don't make excuses. Get in there and pack your things. Don't hold us up going to get your brother!"
No one cared how I'd spent the night.
I opened the email on my phone.
One message that I'd left sitting for a long time lay quietly in the inbox.
The three-year posting invitation from the Antarctic research expedition.
Harsh conditions, thousands of miles from home, three full years once you went.
Before, I'd clung to that thin scrap of family feeling, and I'd hesitated again and again.
Now I answered in earnest.
"I confirm my participation. I'll report on time."
From here on, I'd stop waiting for your love to arrive too.
