Good Enough (Making Dysfunction Function)
#9 of Good Enough Side Stories
Good Enough--Side Story--Making Dysfunction Function
Fourteen-year-old Damien walked into the school with his head down, as was his usual habit. Without a doubt, he was feeling smaller than usual, hearing the whispers that surrounded him as he trailed past the other students.
"That's the new Blackwell cub." "He's Nate Blackwell's baby brother." "He looks like them." "Think he'll be an athlete or a brainiac?"
Don't they know I'm not him or her?_Damien wondered sadly. _I just want to be me.
_ _Somewhere in the back of his mind, was proud of his siblings--one was the best athlete the school had ever known and the other was a genius with a perfect GPA. How could one not be so proud of the two of them? And yet... He spared a few glances around him; his siblings' popularity was certainly something to loathe. He couldn't help but be both annoyed at the attention and jealous of them. The year was almost half over and the attention still hadn't abated yet.
As he neared his locker, he glanced around at the decorated hallway, strung with multicolored lights and emerald-colored banners with red, painted lettering: HAPPY HOLIDAYS! and HAVE A SAFE HOLIDAY! Certainly, the school was decorated for the holidays and it did raise his spirits marginally, but the feeling quickly died away when he heard someone speak beside him.
"Excuse me," a female malamute murmured. Damien turned to look at her; she looked shy and uncomfortable. "Aren't you Nathan Blackwell's brother?"
Of course, Damien thought derisively. That's the only reason she'd talk to me.
"Yes."
"Do you think you could--?"
"No," Damien replied quickly.
"But I didn't even--"
"Do you want a date or an autograph?" Damien questioned, slamming the locker closed. She looked surprised at his deduction, but she quickly regained her composure. "Look, why don't you just go talk to him? I don't want to ask him out for you."
She frowned. "I thought you'd be nice like him."
"I'm not him."
"No," she remarked. "You're a jerk."
"Hey now," a smooth, confident voice interrupted behind Damien. Damien jumped in surprise as a strong arm rested on his shoulder. "That's my baby brother you're talking about."
Of course, he's always where there's a pretty lady, Damien mused. And the malamute had fallen silent. And of course she's practically ready to strip for you.
"H-hi, Nate," she managed to say, her voice a pitch higher than before.
"Hey, cutie," he answered. "Why you talking about my baby brother like that?"
"I'm sorry," she fumbled. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me to the winter dance... You know it's a Sadie Hawkins dance and I was hoping you'd be my date."
Nathan chortled. "Well, damn... You're really pretty, but I already got a date. I'm sorry." She looked down sadly. "Hey, don't look so down. You know, there's this handsome little guy." He shook Damien roughly. "Why not ask him? I'm sure he'd love to have a beautiful girl like you on his arm."
No, I wouldn't. I don't even know her and she doesn't look interested.
But she spoke anyway, trying to hide her displeasure at the suggestion. "Well, do you want to go?" she asked Damien.
Damien rolled his eyes, shaking off Nathan's arm. "What's my name?" he asked her. She bit back her answer. "Then no." He gauged her reaction. No, she didn't seem bothered at all by his rejection, and instead focused her attention back on Nathan.
"Well, I guess I'll see you later? Maybe I can ask you to the senior prom?"
"Keep the option open, babe, and save me a dance," Nathan said, flashing her a grin. She giggled awkwardly as she walked away, waving. When she was out of earshot, Nathan gripped Damien's tail roughly. Damien let out a yip, the sound resonating in the hallway, thought it was rapidly drowned out by the conversation around them. "What the fuck was that? When a pretty young thing like that asks you out, you don't say no. You say yes and pray to God you get lucky."
Damien scoffed. "I'm not interested in someone that shallow."
"Shallow or not, it's about time you started dating."
"Not interested," Damien repeated in the most biting tone he could manage.
"Well, even still, you're planning on going to the dance, right?" Nathan asked. "So, why not use what I can offer you to snag the prettiest fox in the school." He pointed over his shoulder and Damien looked. Cornelia McDonald was walking down the hallway, turning heads as she sashayed her way through the crowd. Her fur was silky and magnificent, her hair long and elegant and her clothes were the epitome of fashion and style. The males wanted her. The females wanted to be her. And Damien found himself unimpressed.
She's pretty, but she probably isn't my type either. I could probably stand in a puddle of her and not get wet...
_ _ She walked up to Nathan and smiled at him. "Hey," she said in her alluring accent. "I heard you were looking for a date, Mr. Blackwell."
"In fact," Nathan said, pulling Damien between them, "I was just trying to help my little bro find someone."
With immediate dislike, Damien saw that she was taller than him, just an inch or two shy of his brother's height. We'd look terrible together. Everyone would think we look weird.
"He's adorable," she said, leaning down slightly to look Damien in the eye. "I like the color of his eyes. Such a beautiful blue. Would you like to be my date to the dance, little one?"
Little one? She's just as bad as Nate.
"No," Damien said darkly, pushing away from Nathan. And he stomped off, eager to get away and completely oblivious to the angry look on Nathan's face and the hurt look on Cornelia's. He didn't care to look back.
Do we need to have this conversation? I already know what you're going to say...
Damien remained seated as he was instructed, his test still on his desk. Another D+. Mr. Ross had already dismissed the rest of the class. Mr. Ross closed the door and walked over to Damien, arms crossed as he looked down at his student. Damien glared up at Mr. Ross, ready for whatever the teacher was about to say. He kept his paws low, resting on his legs and clenched into tight, tense fists.
"Well," Mr. Ross began, "I expected better from you."
"It's not an F," Damien said. "What's the problem?"
"You're really nothing like your sister; she would've gotten a perfect score," Mr. Ross said. No, I'm not. I'm not Amy. I'm Damien. Someone completely different. "Well, David, soon you need to get serious about your schoolwork. You're in high school now and the semester's almost over. I advise you to take the final as seriously as you can."
Do you think I'm not trying? I know I'm not as smart as Amy. Why do I have to be?
_ _ "My name is Damien." Do you not even know that much?
"Beg pardon?" Mr. Ross remarked.
"My name is Damien, not David."
"Right, that's what I said," Mr. Ross answered dismissively. "Here's the situation as it stands. You're right on the edge of failing the class. I suggest you study as hard as you can. I'm sure Amy can help you."
"Yeah," Damien remarked, no longer listening. He hurriedly stashed his test paper in his backpack and stood.
"Excuse me, we're not done talking here," Mr. Ross said.
You might not be done talking, but I'm done listening.
"I'd really like to get some lunch," Damien said, standing up. "I promise I'll try harder."
"... If you need some help or anything, you know you can ask me for help."
Ask you? No, I can't. You can't even remember my name. But then again, who would ever bother to remember me?
By dinnertime, Damien had managed to keep himself calm and smiling. He had come home first, with Nathan and Amy staying after for their extracurriculars and, after spending an hour practicing on piano, Damien felt relaxed and calm once more. By dinner at eight o'clock, Damien had joined his family at the table, smiling kindly at his mother and father.
The first few minutes of the meal passed calmly and normally. Their mother asked them how school went (and, as usual, Damien lied through is teeth), their father asked talked about his day and Nathan asked for his usual second plate before anyone else finished their first. Damien had been picking at his vegetables with his fork when Amy cleared her throat noisily.
"I think this needs to be seen, Dad," she stated. She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slid it over. Marcus unfolded it and Selene leaned over, looking over the paper with a narrowing gaze. Her eyes flitted between the paper to Damien and at once, he felt a sense of foreboding. Damien stood hurriedly and started to make his way out of the room, but Marcus snapped his fingers calmly. Reflexively, Damien stopped, just inches away from leaving.
"Sit," Marcus ordered.
Damien sat.
"You two, out," Marcus ordered.
Amy left with her plate and Nathan followed, looking sad.
"Marcus, algebra is tough subject for some people," Selene stated.
However, Marcus ignored her. "How could you fail this test? You've been saying that you've been doing so well in your classes. Have you been lying to us the whole time?"
Damien looked down, feeling absolutely humiliated. He longed to disappear, to walk out with his siblings. No, not with Amy. How'd she get that paper? Why would she give it to--?
"Well?" Marcus prompted.
"I'm not good at math," Damien answered meekly. I never have been and I'll never be. Why is this surprising to you?
"Speak up and look at me, boy," Marcus ordered. Damien looked up but found any confidence in him withering under Marcus's cold glare. "Are you failing this class?"
"No..."
"Speak up. I won't tell you again."
"I'm not failing the class," Damien managed weakly. His voice somehow sounded even smaller than before. "I'm doing my best."
"Looks like your best is complete mediocrity," Marcus stated. "I expect better from you." He set the test down and Damien glanced over at it. Why didn't he throw it away when he had the chance? Or burn it? Or something?
Why me? Why are you always doing this to me? Nate failed math in his freshman year...
"That's enough, Marcus," Selene stated. "Let's give him a chance to explain."
"What's there to explain? His failing his classes, lying about it and probably hiding more failures in his room," Marcus explained.
Is that all I am to you? A failure?
"I expect this to not happen again, understood?" Marcus said. "I want to see every piece of paper you get. Every grade, all your homework, all your tests, everything. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Out. I better not hear another sound from you tonight," Marcus said. "You better be in your room studying. Don't let me catch you doing anything else, understood? Anything else and I'll cancel your Christmas. No presents, no visitors, no nothing. Do I make myself clear?"
"Marcus!" Selene gasped.
"Yes, sir."
"Go."
Amy approached him the next morning at his locker, tapping his shoulder kindly. "Damien, can we--?"
"No."
"But I--"
He slammed his locker closed. "What? You what? Wanted to get me in trouble? Wanted to make Dad mad at me?" You're already his favorite. Isn't that enough for you? "Please, just leave me alone."
"Damien, why won't you let me help you?"
"How'd you even get that paper?" Damien raged. "What gives you the right to go through my stuff?"
"I didn't," she answered, remaining calm. As usual, her voice took on a cold monotone when she was angered and something about it cowed Damien's own anger. "Ross gave me a copy to give to Dad. And you need help if you really struggling this much."
"I don't need your help," Damien answered, "I just need--"
"Oh, bullshit." Damien turned; Nathan had joined them. "Your grades are suckish and your social life's nonexistent. Little bro, you need all the help you can get. So, Amy is going to help you with your grades and I'll help you find a date."
Damien huffed. "You two aren't listening to me!" Damien whined. "I don't want a date and I don't need help. What I need is for people to let me do things my way!"
"Your way is failing," Nathan answered nonchalantly. "So, we're stepping in."
"I don't want or need your help! I want you two to leave me alone!"
Does it matter what I want? They'll never listen anyway. No one ever listens...
Marcus brought the Christmas tree home early Saturday morning, carrying it in with help from Nathan. They set it in the living room where Selene and Amy were unpacking the ornaments and untangling the lights, making sure that they were ready to decorate the tree when it arrived. After setting the tree in the stand, Marcus stepped back, smiling as he looked over it.
"Just a bit of trimming," he mused. He glanced around the room. "Where's Damien?"
"Upstairs," Selene answered. "He might still be sleeping."
"Still? That lazy cub needs to wake up. Nathan, go get him," Marcus said.
"Maybe we should leave him alone," Amy suggested. "He's been a bit on edge lately. Maybe we should just let him--"
"No, it's family tradition to decorate the tree together," Marcus said. "Go get him."
Two minutes later, Damien found himself being carried down the stairs over Nathan's shoulder, tossed haphazardly onto the couch.
"Ow!" Damien snapped.
"Oh, shut up," Nathan remarked. "I've hit you harder than that."
"Nathan, be nice to your brother," Selene remarked.
Decorating the tree was, admittedly, something Damien had looked forward to. He smiled widely as he helped his father and brother trim the tree, enjoying the sound of his mother humming Christmas carols, the cocoa his sister made. And, with the tree trimmed and ready to be decorated, he was the first to hang an ornament. Within twenty minutes, the tree was decorated beautifully and alight with those multicolored strands. He soon seated himself on the couch between his siblings, sipping the cocoa happily.
"You know, this is the only time of year when we're not at each other's throats," Amy said offhandedly.
"Decorating the tree?" Damien wondered. It's true; it's the only time we're actually a family.
"Yeah..." She took a sip. "It's actually pretty sad, now that I think about it. I mean, even on Christmas, we're arguing about who carves the turkey, who opens the first present, who does this and who does that and..." She trailed off. "It's just weird to me."
"Not really," Nathan answered, propping his feet on the coffee table. "We're a dysfunctional family. It happens."
"Why, though?" she wondered. "Why is it so hard for us to get along?"
Because we don't like each other, Damien reasoned. I don't hate you, but it's rare that I like you. I love you dearly, but... The tree isn't finished...
"What?" Nathan said.
"The tree's not done," Damien realized. "We forgot the star."
The star lay on the table, just inches away from where Nathan had his feet propped up. They each eyed it and Damien could already see the beginnings of an argument forming. Who would get the place the star on top? He exchanged looks with his siblings and let out a heavy sigh. I wouldn't win the argument anyway.
"I need to go finish my homework."
And he stood and walked away, returning to his bedroom. He wasn't sure how long he was in his roommate alone when Amy had knocked on the door. She let herself in without waiting for any kind of acknowledgement, looking at him nervously.
"Are you okay?" she wondered.
"Fine," Damien answered in a clipped tone. "Just fine."
"We still haven't finished the tree," she explained. "Don't you want to help?"
"You don't need my help," Damien answered. "Nate's tall enough to reach the top."
"That's not the point," she snapped and Damien could hear the faintest hint of anger in her voice. "What's your deal? Why are you acting like this?"
"Like what?" he questioned. Like I always do? Why are you just now noticing?
"Like a petty cub throwing a tantrum," she snarled. "I'm trying to be nice and you're just being mad at me! If this is about the test, I've been trying apologize for days and you're just ignoring me!"
"I'm not ignoring you," Damien replied. "I'm just tired of arguing with you and Nate. Let's just try to not argue for one Christmas."
"We weren't arguing!"
"No, but we were about to," Damien said, "because we each want to put the star on top. I honestly don't care about the damn star. I just want to finish my homework."
"Damien--"
"Please, just let me finish my homework."
"No, I--"
"Just go," Damien insisted.
The tree's light was still powerful and beautiful, but without the star, the tree looked and felt cold and incomplete. As Damien walked downstairs shortly after sunset, he paused to step into the living room, to look up at the tree. The star remained where it was on the table, not forgotten, though set aside. His mother was wrapping presents humming absently to herself. She spared him a look when he stepped in.
"You know, you're not supposed to peak at your gifts," she answered.
He nodded. "I don't mind. What'd you get me?"
"That's a rude thing to ask," she noted. "But, anyway, I've already wrapped your gifts. Mind putting them under the tree for me?"
Damien nodded and began to set the wrapped presents under the tree. As he did so, he found his attention constantly drifting to the top of the tree, which looked uncomfortably dark against the (ugly) brown curtains covering the window. He sighed as he placed the last one.
"So, mind telling me what's bothering you?" she asked.
"Nothing. Just tired," Damien lied.
She looked down at the table. "Amy told me that you have been arguing even more with her and Nathan. Would you care to explain why?"
Why is she always in my business? Why can't she just leave me alone?
"It's nothing, Mom," Damien repeated. "I think I'm going to--"
"Damien, please, just talk to me," Selene insisted. "You know I can keep a secret."
Damien considered refusing, but he joined her on the couch, taking a deep breath before explaining. From Nathan's incessant attempts to find him a girlfriend to his frustrations with Amy and ending on his father's impossibly high standards. And she listened carefully, completely quiet as she heard each word. As he spoke, he felt more like a cub than he had in a long time, but there was something uplifting about being able to vent, about speaking so openly.
"Damien," she said when he finished, "I think you're misunderstanding everyone. We care about you, more than you know, and we only want what's best for you." Damien was unable to suppress a snort of indignation. "I know it may not seem like it, but your brother and sister love you so much. Nate has told me several times how proud he is of you. He wants to help you be more outgoing. And Amy knows how smart you are; she wants you to help you be all you can be."
"And Dad?"
"I admit, I don't always agree with his standards. Sometimes they're just too high, but he loves you so much," Selene assured him. "It may not always seem like it, but he does."
"Then why can't he show it? Why does he always have to say that I'm failing at something?" Damien asked, his voice starting to crack. Why am I always failing? Why can't I ever succeed? Doesn't he get that I can't take this pressure?
She pulled him closer. "I'll let you in a secret; he thinks you're incredible."
"Really?"
"He's always impressed with how intelligent you are. He loves listening to you practice on the piano. He loves to hear of when you succeed, when you laugh, when you're happy. He loves you so much. I think he just has problems showing it. Often, he doesn't even know how to be a proper father. Remember, he didn't have a father."
Damien looked down; he had forgotten. It had been so easy to forget that Marcus had never known his father, dead shortly before his birth. And knowing his grandmother, it wasn't so hard to see how Marcus had become so strict, so demanding.
"Can I ask you something?" Damien questioned.
"Of course."
"What does Dad want for Christmas?"
The question hung oddly in the air. "That's a very good question. He never really says that he wants this or that. I honestly have to guess half the time at what he wants. But I suppose if you really want to give him something..." She leaned down and whispered to him.
He smiled. "Yeah, I can do that."
But I can't do it alone.
"Can we hurry this up? It's cold as fuck out here!" Nathan hissed irritable, shivering as they stood in the garage. Amy had had the forethought to grab a jacket, something that had eluded Damien and Nathan completely. "Why can't we do this in the house?!"
"Because Dad's in there and I don't want him to hear it," Damien remarked through chattering teeth. "Look, let's make this quick. I want to do something really nice for Dad. But I need help. First, we need to pick up some stuff from the grocery store. Make his favorite dinner. Then, we'll have him put the star on top and give him his real gift early."
"And what's his real gift?" Amy questioned.
"Us," he said.
"The fuck does that mean?!" Nathan griped.
"Look, tomorrow, he'll be out all day with his army buddies," Damien said, "and Mom'll drive us around and help us get everything set together. But we need to have everything set for when he gets home. Please, I need your help to make this work."
"Why should we help you?" Amy asked. "After you've been yelling at us all week long?"
Because this isn't about us anymore. It's about Dad. Can't you understand that much? Can't we just pull it together for this one moment?
"Please," Damien begged.
"I can give you an answer in five short words," Nathan said.
Damien rolled his eyes and said, "What's in it for me?" at the same time that Nathan said, "This is not my problem."
But Nathan's eyes went wide and he smiled that same dark grin he had when he was feeling mischievous. Mentally, Damien kicked himself, wishing he had kept his mouth closed. "Oh, you're right. I can totally turn this on you. What's in it for me?"
"You know what, forget it," Damien sighed. I was stupid to think I could count on you two... but maybe I deserve this after how I've been treating you the past few days. "Never mind."
"We'll help you," Amy said. Damien's eyes went wide and his tail started to wag. "But on one condition."
Damien's eyes flattened against his head. Of course; there's always some kind of twist...
Marcus came home around six in the evening, humming absently to himself as he walked inside. At once, he was aware that something was amiss. That scent; his wife had made meatloaf. And the house was amazingly quiet. Quiet, in the Blackwell house? Something was wrong.
"Hello?"
"Dining room!" called a chorus of four voices, followed by a series of snickers and giggles. Oh no. What were those kids up to? And did they convince Selene to join in on their madness?
He walked to the dining room, immediately off-put by the darkness. He flicked a switch and was amazed to see his family sitting there, smiling at him happily. The meal was placed nicely in the center of the table, but what caught his attention was not his family's creepy smiles or even the beautiful food prepared for them. It was the framed photograph, propped up on the table within plain sight, a photo unlike any he had seen in a long time.
It was his cubs, smiling and looking happy, dressed handsomely in suits (and Amy in her beautiful, azure dress). He grinned widely as he picked up the picture, his heart warming. When was the last time that the three of them had been willing to take a photo like this?
And what's that? He looked down to see something else. It was an envelope of was a series of photographs (his sons, his daughter, his wife) and a simple card. He picked up the card and opened it, reading the inside and smiling at the three signatures inside.
"We know it's early," Amy said, "but we figured you'd like this. And there's one more thing we have for you, but we'll need your help."
"My help?" Marcus wondered.
Damien stood, star in his paws, smiling. "We thought you should put the star on top of the tree. We'd just argue if we tried to figure out who would do it ourselves."
For the first time in a long time, Marcus was at a loss for words as he took the star from his son, almost as though he was afraid the star would shatter the moment he touched it. Damien smiled at him, and grabbed his arm, starting to pull him back towards the living room. At once, Amy and Nathan were helping him, pushing their father until they were right in front of the tree.
Marcus grinned as he reached up, carefully securing the glistening star on top, stepping back to admire the tree. Damien smiled widely, tail wagging rapidly. It looks finished now... Like it's really done.
"So, what brought this on? It's not like you three to not be arguing," Marcus noted. But he was smiling. It was a lighthearted remark, free of his usual detached tone.
"It was the midget's idea," Nathan said, patting Damien's head. "Ought to thank him."
"I couldn't have done it without their help," Damien replied hurriedly. Don't thank me. I have to do their chores for the next month, those greedy assholes.
"Thank you, all three of you," Marcus said. "I love that picture."
"Dad," Damien started. Marcus looked at him and Damien couldn't help but feel small again. "I'm sorry about failing that test. I'm doing my best but I don't know why it's so difficult for me. I promise I'll do better. Next time, I'll get a perfect score."
"It's not about being perfect," Marcus said simply. "Damien, I just want you to try your absolute best. I want you to succeed at your pace. And no matter what happens, I'll still be proud of you."
"But I--"
Marcus patted his son's head. "I don't expect perfection from any of you. I expect you to do your best. If you can promise me that, I'll be happy."
"Aww, that's sweet, but dinner's going to get cold," Selene interrupted.
Damien smiled, his stomach rumbling slightly. Yeah, as long as I do my best... Is my best ever enough? He paused for a second to look at the star once more. Maybe...
"Amy, Nate," Damien murmured, entering the room where his siblings were in the beginning stages of debating over the television. They paused and looked over at him. He considered backing out of the room right now but he took a deep breath and spoke quickly. "Thanks and I'm sorry."
"Say again?" Nathan asked.
"Thanks for helping me today," Damien said. "Couldn't have gotten those pictures without your help."
"Meh, you could've photoshopped some old ones," Nathan answered. "Although, wouldn't have looked nearly as good. Let's do a newer movie," he added to Amy.
"Nah, Dad's favorite is that one old, crappy one," Amy said. "Let's do that one. See if we can get him to watch it with us."
"But that one doesn't even have color!"
"Does it matter? If Dad likes it--"
"Yes, it matters. We live in the twenty-first century, not the 1940s," Nathan griped.
"And guys," Damien interjected, "I'm sorry for how I yelled at you all week." Once more, their argument ceased and their gaze focused once more on him. "I know I've been... difficult the last few days, but--"
"You're always difficult," Nathan snorted. "You're the only pup I know who'll turn down a date with Cornelia McDonald."
"You turned down Cornelia McDonald?" Amy remarked in amazement. "Congrats, baby bro. You managed to avoid drowning in the shallow end of the gene pool."
"She may be shallow, but she's sexy," Nathan murmured wistfully.
"And dumb."
"With a wonderful accent."
"And a gold tooth."
"She doesn't have a gold tooth!" Nathan snapped.
"So her teeth are just naturally yellow?" Amy giggled. "So she's just dirty."
Damien chuckled. And just like that, back to normalcy.
"I thought you guys were putting a movie in," Selene said, entering the living room with a bowl of popcorn. Behind her, Marcus carried a tray of hot chocolate, setting it down on the coffee table. "Did you change your mind?"
"No, we can't decide on one," Nathan answered. "She wants to watch that old timey stuff."
"And he wants to watch some crappy action flick," Amy countered. "I figured we could watch something nice and wholesome."
"Like_Frankenstein_? Or another one of those 'classics'?"
"What's wrong with the classics?"
"They don't have color!"
"That's enough," Marcus interrupted. "Damien, you choose one. If they keep this up, they'll be at this all night."
Damien nodded, smiling despite his siblings' protests. We make dysfunction function...
"Damien," Amy said lowly, easing his door open slowly. Damien, who had been drifting off to sleep steadily, opened his eyes, surprised to see his sister entering his room. "You awake?"
"Just barely."
"Well, just wanted to let you know that you don't have to do my chores," Amy remarked. She tousled his hair. "And I'm proud of you. That was a really great idea you had for Dad. And Nate and I picked you up something when we were at the store." She set a wrapped box on his bedside table. "Good night. Love you."
"Love you two, Amy."
She kissed his forehead and walked out. Damien sat upright and picked up the box, unwrapping it carefully. He held it up to the moonlight, filtering in through the window--it was a silver wristwatch. And on the back, an engraving. He had to squint to see it clearly in the dim light, but the words were there, unmistakable and heartwarming.
Merry Christmas to Our Baby Bro
Love, Nate and Amy
We Love You
Damien smiled. I love you too. Both of you.
_ More than you'll ever know..._