Jeff Lindsay - Dexter is delicious

For a moment I rolled with that seductive tug, the intoxicating whirl of the dark tide as it flowed around me and pulled at my feet. But then I felt the weight of the game and the books I had bought, and it pulled me out of the rising surge of moonlight and back to the dry land of New Dexter. No more; I would not give in to that moon-voiced urge. With a few harsh words I pushed the Passenger back in its place, deep in cold storage. Go away, I told it, and with a reptilian sniff it coiled itself away. It had to understand that I was not that man anymore. I was Dex-Daddy, the man who comes home filled with longing for Lily Anne and all the clean and common comforts of domestic life. I was the breadwinner, the pathfinder for small feet, the shield against all harm. I was Dex-Daddy, the rock upon which Lily Anne's future would be built, and I had Head of the Class to prove it.

And as I slowed to a stop in front of my house and saw Brian's car already parked there, I realized that apparently I was also Dex-Dopey, because I had no idea what my brother was doing here again but I did not like it, whatever it was. He stood for all I had been and did not want to be anymore, and I did not want any of that anywhere near Lily Anne.

I got out of the car and circled slowly around Brian's little red car and I caught myself looking at it as if it were the real danger. That was stupid, of course. Brian's style did not run to car bombs, but to the quick slice with the sly knife, just like the old me. I was not like that anymore, no matter how much I felt it pulling at me as I approached the front door and heard squeals of childish glee from inside the house. Of all the mounting absurdities this was the worst; that I should feel resentment, suspicion, even so-very-human anger, because the kids were clearly having a good time without me.

And so it was a very confused Dex-Daddy who pushed open the front door to see his little family-plus-brother gathered in front of the television. Rita sat at one end of the couch holding Lily Anne, Brian sat at the other end, with Astor between them, all with large smiles stretched across their faces. Cody stood between them and the TV holding some kind of grayish plastic thing, which he was waving at the TV as he jumped up and down and the others cheered him on.

As I came in all eyes but Cody's swung to me and then back to the TV without any real recognition of what I was-all eyes but Brian's, which stayed fastened on me, his large and phony smile growing larger as he watched me trying, and failing, to figure out what was happening in the living room of my very own hearth and home.

And then a great burst of cheering from the crowd ended in a prolonged, "Aawwwwwww…" and a suddenly frowning Cody jerked himself away from the screen.

"Great try, Cody," Brian said without taking his eyes off me. "Really, really great."

"I got high score," Cody said, an astonishingly long speech for him.

"Yes, you did," Brian said. "Let's see if your sister can beat that."

"Course I can!" Astor shouted, leaping into the air and waving another of the plastic things. "You're toast, Cody!"

"Would somebody tell me what on earth is going on here?" I said, and even to me it sounded forlorn.

"Oh, Dexter," Rita said, looking at me as if I were something very common and she was seeing me ground into her carpet for the first time. "Brian is just-Your brother bought the children a Wii, and it's very-But he can't just," she went on, turning back away from me to look at the TV. "I mean, it's way too expensive, and-Can you ask him? Because-Oh! Good shot, Astor!" Rita actually bounced a little bit with excitement, causing Lily Anne's head to roll slightly, and it was clear that I could take off my clothes and set myself on fire and no one but Brian would even notice.

"It's really quite good for them," Brian said to me with his Cheshire Cat smile. "Very good exercise, and they develop their motor skills. And," he added with a shrug, "it's an awful lot of fun. You should try it, brother."

I looked at my brother with his huge, phony, mocking smile, and I heard the moon call from the street, promising clean and happy fulfillment, so I turned away from him and saw the children and Rita all wrapped in the joy of this wonderful new experience, and suddenly the box under my arm-Head of the Class, almost twenty dollars with tax-felt as heavy and useless as an old oil drum filled with fish heads. I let it drop to the floor, and into my head popped a brief cartoon picture of Dexter running from the room in tears to flop facedown on the bed and cry away his tattered heart.

And happily for the worldwide image of tough-but-caring fatherhood, the mental picture was so ridiculous that all I did was take a deep breath, say, "Oops," and bend to pick up the package.

There was no room for me on the couch, so I walked past the cozy group sitting there, watching them twist to see around me so they would not miss a single riveting second of Astor's epic television battle. I put my game on the floor and sat, uneasy in the easy chair. I could feel Brian's eyes on me but I did not look back; I simply concentrated on forming and maintaining a facade of polite excitement, and after a few seconds he looked away, back at the TV, and as far as the rest of the room was concerned, I had disappeared as completely as if I had never been.

I watched Cody and Astor take turns with their expensive new game system. Somehow, no matter how animated they got, I could not feel any real enthusiasm. They switched to a different game that involved killing things with a sword instead of a gun, and even the use of a blade sparked absolutely no fire in my breast. And of course, they were so thoroughly happy that only a true curmudgeon could possibly object-which merely meant that I could now add "curmudgeon" to my resume. Dexter Morgan, BS. Blood-spatter Analyst, Reformed Slasher; Currently employed as killjoy. I almost wished Debs could have been here-in the first place, because Brian would leave, but more important, so I could say, "See what you're missing? Kids, family-Ha!" And I would give a bitter chuckle that underlined the ultimate fickleness of all family.

Astor said, "Ooooooooohhh," in a very loud and high voice, and Cody jumped up to play. It was clear to me that it wouldn't matter what I did-they would never truly appreciate me or learn what I had to offer. They were far beyond fickle-they were insensible, like kittens, predatory little things, distracted by the first bit of string or shiny bauble that rolled across the floor, and nothing I could ever say or do could possibly make any kind of dent in their willful ignorance.

And then they grew up-into what? Into murderous dead-eyed pretenders like Brian and me, ready at the drop of a hat to stab each other in the back, literally or figuratively. Where was the point? Because they would clatter through childhood leaving a wake of random chaos and by the time they were old enough to understand what I had to say they would be too old to change. It was enough to make me renounce my new humanity and simply slip outside into the liquid moonlight and find somebody to take apart-no finesse, no careful selection, just sudden and cleansing savagery and release, exactly like Brian did it.

I looked at my brother where he sat-on my couch, with my wife, making my children happier than I seemed able to do. Is that what he wanted to do? Become me, but a better me than I had ever managed to be? Something rose up in me at the thought, something in between bile and anger, and I made up my mind that I would confront him tonight, demand to know what he thought he was doing, and make him stop. And if he would not listen to me-well, there was always Deborah.

So I sat grimly with a polite and completely fake half smile stitched onto my face for another half hour of dragons and magic fists and happy yelling. Even Lily Anne seemed content, which felt like an ultimate betrayal. She blinked and waved her fists in the air when Astor yelled and then snuggled back down onto Rita's chest, more enthusiasm than I had seen her show before for anything except feeding. And finally, when I didn't think I could maintain my artificial composure for even a second longer, I cleared my throat and said, "Hey, Rita? Did you have any plans for dinner?"