Chapter 3

Dave usually passed on lighting fireworks during New Year's Eve. Victoria Day and Canada Day were no problem, and on Halloween it depended on the weather, but Dave didn't want to spend more time in the cold than strictly necessary. It was the main reason he had quit playing hockey after peewee league. Frank, however, wouldn't let the cold stop him, and moved about outside, lighting his fireworks in quick succession while Erica played the adoring sidekick and happily set up the new fireworks for him.

Traditionally, nearly half of emergency room fireworks injuries were to extremities and more than two-fifths were to the head. His mother took no chances and only allowed her children to light fireworks with punks on the end of a modified reacher. Additionally, they had to wear protective goggles over their eyes, and a second layer of protection in the form of a face shield that seemed more appropriate in a laboratory setting.

Uncle Bryan, who was the designated supervising adult, kept an eye on his daughter and nephew, and a fire extinguisher close by. He was the only sober adult so it made sense for him to be the supervising one. Aside from some extra colour on his cheeks, Alan seemed okay, but Michelle and Angelica were well into the first stage of intoxication and their fine motor skills were suffering accordingly. That was why Iris and Dahlia had taken charge of preparing and passing around the finger foods, and Iris was just coming out of the kitchen with a tray of crab cakes.

He couldn't keep his eyes off her as she seemingly glided over to him. Of course, he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her all evening. The figure-hugging, black dress with the plunging neckline she was wearing made it impossible. They had all been told to dress up for a family picture for Grandpa Mike, and everyone but Frank and Erica was already in black tie attire. But even in his formal wear, he felt more like a frog than a prince in her presence.

"Open wide," she playfully commanded, and Dave felt he had no choice but to comply. She fed him several crab cakes in this manner before moving off, leaving him to gaze at her perfect, hypnotically swaying behind.

Moments later, he nearly jumped when a strong had clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. It was a typical habit his father had, and it could be quite startling when it came unexpectedly.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

"What is?" Dave asked, trying to sound as confused as possible.

Alan's indulgent laughter signalled the total and utter failure of his attempted deception, but thankfully he didn't press the issue and went to sit with his tipsy wife and sister instead. Still, finding out that his father had easily detected his infatuation with his aunt had been upsetting, and he needed to retreat and mentally regroup. His emotions were all over the place. He needed to centre himself. But it was not to be.

"Dave, fetch Frank and Erica, will you? They need to change for the picture," his mother called.

Refusal was not an option, so Dave went outside.

"Time for the picture. Go change!" he barked as he forcibly took the ignition punk from his brother.

"What the hell crawled up your arsehole?" Frank shot back, but didn't try to reclaim the punk.

"Dave meant to say please, didn't you, Dave?"

He whipped around and saw Iris standing in the doorway, shivering slightly and rubbing her arms in an effort to stay warm. The anger and frustration drained out of him at the sight of her, and he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Frank. The noise is giving me a headache, so I'm a bit on edge," he lied, "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you," he added sincerely.

"Yeah, whatever," Frank grumbled, and headed inside with Erica close on his heels.

Dave followed them and tried to brush past Iris on his way inside, but she placed her arm against the wall to block his path.

"Do you mind?" he asked tersely, not meeting her gaze. "It's cold out here."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," she replied firmly.

Dave's throat tightened and his eyes began to burn. "Trust me, you don't want to know," he whispered hoarsely.

"You can tell me anything." She reached for his face with her free hand, but he knew her soft, warm touch would worsen her heartache, so he drew away.

"Don't ... please."

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He exhaled, hoping to relieve the pressure he was feeling inside. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself, and I can't tell you why."

"Yes you can," she said soothingly, "Whatever it is."

The warm, understanding sparkle in her eyes could have made someone confess to a hit and run, and Dave felt the dam of emotions inside him breach.

"You really want to know?"

Iris nodded.

"Okay," He took a deep breath and looked at the floor before plunging into his confession. "Ever since I came home and saw you in your underwear, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind, and I tried very hard because I knew it wasn't okay for me to feel that way about you.

"I dragged your life story out of you over the past few days, hoping to expose your vices, but I found that you assumed the responsibility of a grown woman and began running the household when you were only ten. I found out that all the dogs you've ever owned were older dogs with special needs or disfigurements that made other people not want to adopt them, and that you took care of them with no help from your dad. I learned that you're not sensitive to fads like most girls your age are, and that you don't care what your peers think of you because of it. I've learned that you volunteer for the underprivileged and spend time with elderly people who've been dumped at a home by their children who hardly ever visit them anymore.

"In short, I discovered you're just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, and what started as me simply having the hots for you became something more. I'm in love with you, okay? I know it's not allowed, but I can't help it, and it's tearing me up inside."

Dave heard her shift on the doormat and forced himself to look at her. Her eyes were wide with dismay, like she had been physically struck. Then she staggered back a few steps before turning away from him and rushing inside.

Her stricken expression made him feel like he had just been punched in the stomach, and his heart felt like a cold vice was tightening down on it. Rejection didn't get any plainer than that, and tears blurred his vision.

Dave decided he needed to start moving. He had already ruined Iris' New Year, and a brisk walk around the block would hopefully help him compose himself enough so he wouldn't ruin New Year for everyone else as well.

He was halfway across the street when he became aware of blazing lights in his peripheral vision. Then there was the sound of a car horn, followed by the sound of its tires futilely trying to find purchase on the icy street as the driver hit the breaks.

" ... looks like a grade five concussion. He should be okay."

"You know very well that some people never recover from concussions, Vijay," Dave heard another voice say. "He could have PCS for the rest of his life!"

"Come now, Alan. You're the one who keeps telling me to be optimistic."

Alan ... of course! Alan was his father.

Dave fought to pry his eyes open. He had a pounding headache. "Dad?"

"Son, you're awake!"

"Why are you all dressed up?" he asked, since his father was wearing formal clothes minus a smoking jacket.

"It's New Year's Night, Dave."

"It is?"

"Shall I leave the examination up to you, Dr Adams?" the other doctor asked.

"Yeah, I'll take it from here," Alan replied, accepting a clipboard from him. Then he turned to Dave. "Now, son, I have to do some tests. Nothing fancy ... you just have to answer some questions."

Dave frowned. "Okay."

"What's your name, and how old are you?"