The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I wheeled the hand truck into the hallway, stacked high with three large totes. The air was thick with the smell of fresh paint mixed with bleach — a sharp reminder that this wasn’t our old home. It was something new, something we still had to make ours. I sighed as I tried to navigate the narrow space, the totes bulky and heavy, nearly impossible to handle alone.
“Easy now,” I muttered, tightening my grip when one of the totes wobbled. Before I could steady it, the top container tipped over, crashing to the polished marble floor. The lid flew off, scattering its contents everywhere. The echo of plastic hitting marble bounced down the empty corridor.
“Damn it.” I felt a sharp pull in my lower back as I knelt, and nausea churned in my gut — a mix of pain and exhaustion. Moving was supposed to be a fresh start, but today, it just felt like one weight after another piling on top of me.
I started gathering the scattered items — clothes, books, a few knickknacks. My hand brushed against something familiar, and I paused. It was a photograph, still safely behind its glass. I picked it up, and a lump caught in my throat.
It was from last year’s cheerleading competition. Brianna and Brooklyn, side by side in matching emerald and silver uniforms. Brianna had that confident smile of hers, her chestnut hair in a high ponytail. Brooklyn was next to her, smiling softly, auburn curls framing his face. They looked so happy. Inseparable.
I blinked back the sting of tears. That version of Brooklyn was gone, but he was still here — just different now. A few months after that picture was taken, he’d come out to us as transgender, embracing who he was. The cheer uniforms had been traded in for ripped jeans and graphic tees. His long curls were now cut shorter, into the messy, “effortlessly cool” mop he liked to call it.
“Need some help there, Dad?” Brianna’s voice broke through my thoughts, echoing softly down the hallway.
I looked up, quickly blinking away the moisture in my eyes. Brianna stood there, eyebrow raised, her gaze moving between me and the mess on the floor. She was wearing an oversized hoodie and leggings — classic Brianna. Practical, no fuss. There was a sharpness in her expression, like she could see right through me.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I sighed, trying for a smile as I held up the photo. “This one took a dive.”
Brianna stepped closer, taking the picture from my hand and studying it for a moment. A small smile touched her lips. “I remember this day,” she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Brooklyn had a meltdown about his hair, remember? Thought it looked ridiculous.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. You spent, what, half an hour convincing him he was perfect?”
Brianna shrugged, her smile fading a little. “Well, I guess he didn’t feel that way. Not really.”
There was a sadness in her voice, a longing for how things used to be. I reached over, my own voice a whisper. “He was perfect then. And so is Brooklyn. He’s just… different now.”
Brianna nodded, her gaze distant. She knelt down beside me, helping gather the rest of the scattered items. “I know. It’s just… it’s different for me too, you know? We still hang out, but I miss having a sister. Sometimes I wish…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“It’s okay to miss things,” I said gently. “I do too. But Brooklyn’s still here. Just… in a new way.”
Brianna sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. He’s still my sibling, even if he’s a nerd now.” She rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in it. “Last night he spent hours trying to explain quantum mechanics to me. Who does that? He’s like Luke and Alex from *Modern Family*, except he actually knows what he’s talking about.”
I laughed, a real one this time, imagining Brooklyn’s intense expression as he launched into one of his science rants. “That sounds about right. He’s got that clueless charm mixed with ‘way too smart for his own good.’”
“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” Brianna said, but her tone had softened. She picked up a book and gently placed it back in the tote. “But it’s also kinda… him. Nerdy, but mine.”
My chest tightened. For all the teasing, it was clear how much Brianna loved her sibling — how much she wanted to protect him, even if she didn’t always know how.
We worked in silence for a while, the sound of rustling fabric and the scrape of items against the marble floor filling the hallway. I stacked the last few books in the tote, wincing as I stood. My back had been protesting all day, but it wasn’t just the physical weight that was dragging me down. The emotional load felt even heavier, and I hadn’t figured out how to let it go.
Brianna glanced up, catching my grimace. Her eyes flickered with concern. “You sure you’re okay, Dad?”
“Yeah.” I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. The photograph was still on my mind — everything it represented, everything that had changed. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
She tilted her head, lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t look convinced. “Okay,” she said, doubt mixed with acceptance. With a sigh, she grabbed hold of the hand truck. “Why don’t you take a break? I got this. You’ve done enough for now.”
I hesitated, glancing at the totes and then back at her. Part of me wanted to insist, to prove I could still carry my share of the load. But another sharp jolt of pain shot up my spine, and I grimaced. “Alright,” I said, nodding. “Thanks.”
She gave me a small, reassuring smile before maneuvering the hand truck towards the door. I watched her for a moment — steady, reliable Brianna, always ready to pick up the pieces, even when it was hard. Pride swelled in my chest, mixed with a sense of loss for the simplicity we’d left behind.
As Brianna pushed the hand truck into the condo, I lingered in the hallway, my eyes drifting back to the photograph. I picked it up, tracing my fingers over the glass. That version of Brooklyn might be gone, but he was still here — in his smile, in the way he protected his sister, just like he always had. Different, yes, but still ours.
It wasn’t about losing him, I realized. It was about learning to love who he’d become while still holding onto everything he’d been.
I took a deep breath, carefully wrapping the photograph in one of Brianna’s old sweaters before tucking it back into the tote. I looked up as Brianna’s voice echoed from upstairs, calling for Brooklyn — something about making sure he hadn’t taken the best room. Her voice faded as she disappeared, leaving me alone in the hallway.
With a groan, I lifted the container back onto the hand truck, muscles straining as I did. My back throbbed — a sharp reminder of my limits — but I pushed through and wheeled the last of the totes into the condo.
Inside, the place felt foreign. Sleek marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of the Miami skyline that stretched out endlessly. It was a stark contrast to our old home in Indiana, with its warm, cluttered rooms and familiar creaks. This place felt cold, impersonal, like it was waiting for us to breathe life into it.
I parked the hand truck near the living room and leaned against a stack of boxes, trying to ease the tension in my back. Every throb echoed the uncertainty that had been building since we decided to move. Rebecca had been offered her dream job, and there was no question that we’d follow where she needed to be. I was proud of her — I still am — but it felt like everything was shifting, like we were all on unsteady ground.
My job was stable, remote work that let me support the family. This move wasn’t about me. It was for Rebecca, for Brianna and Brooklyn’s future. It was about giving them the opportunities I never had.
I straightened, breathing out slowly as I took in the chaos around me. Brooklyn was probably upstairs, unpacking, trying to make the space his own. He had his new interests — gaming, sketching superheroes — his way of adapting, of figuring himself out. Brianna had her sports and plans for the future.
They were both growing, changing, and I needed to find my way through those changes too.
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