Jeff Lindsay - Dexter is delicious

"What?" she said, without looking at me, still totally engrossed in the game. "Did you have a-Oh, Cody! I'm sorry, Dexter, what did you say?"

"I said," I said in overdistinct syllables, "Did You Have Any Plans for Dinner?"

"Yes, of course," she said, still without looking away from the TV. "I just have to-Oh!" she said with real alarm, and this time it was not from something in the game but because she glanced up and saw the clock. "Oh, my God, it's after eight! I didn't even-Astor, set the table! Oh, my God, and it's a school night!"

I watched with mild satisfaction as Rita leaped up off the couch at last and, thrusting Lily Anne at me, ran into the kitchen still talking. "For the love of-Oh, I know it's burned, what was I-Cody, get the silverware out! I've never been such a-Astor, don't forget to set a place for Uncle Brian!" And then a nonstop clatter for several minutes as she opened the oven, slammed pots and pans around, and set normal life back on the tracks.

Cody and Astor glanced at each other, clearly reluctant to leave their new TV world even to eat, and then, still wordless, they looked in unison at Uncle Brian. "Well, come on," he said with his awful fake cheeriness, "you have to do what your mother says."

"I wanna play some more," Cody said, which was several more syllables than I had heard him say together in a very long time.

"Of course you do," Brian said. "But right now you can't." He gave them his big smile, and I could see that he was trying very hard to look sympathetic, but it was truly not all that convincing, nowhere near as good as I did it. But Cody and Astor apparently accepted it at face value; they just looked at each other, nodded, and trundled off to the kitchen to help get ready for dinner.

Brian watched them go and then turned to look at me, his eyebrows raised in artificially polite anticipation. Naturally enough, he could not hope to anticipate any of the things I wanted to say to him, but as I took a deep breath to start, it occurred to me that I really couldn't, either. I felt that I had to accuse him of something-but of what? Buying an expensive toy when I had bought one so much cheaper? Of taking the kids for Chinese food and probably something slightly more sinister? Of trying to be me when I was too busy to play the part? I suppose the old, dead-inside Dexter would simply say, "Whatever you're doing, stop." But the new me simply could not wrap his tongue around all the many complicated things-feelings-that swirled through me. And to make matters even worse, as I sat there with my brain idling and my mouth open, Lily Anne made a burbling noise and my shirt was suddenly covered with a sour milk pudding of baby blarp.

"Oh, my," Brian said with a sympathy that was every bit as real as all his other emotions.

I got to my feet and went down the hall, holding Lily Anne at a kind of port-arms position. In the bedroom there was a changing table that had a stack of towels for the purpose stored on a shelf underneath. I grabbed two of them-one to mop up the mess, and the second to place under the baby to preserve whatever might remain of my shirt.

I went back to the easy chair and sat, draping the second towel over my shoulder and arranging Lily Anne facedown on top of it, gently patting her on the back. Brian looked at me again, and I opened my mouth to speak.

"Dinner," Rita said, roaring into the room with a platter held between two large oven mitts. "I'm afraid it's not-I mean, it isn't actually burned, but I didn't-It's just a little too dry and, Astor, get the rice into the blue bowl. Sit down, Cody."

Dinner was a cheerful affair, at least as far as the video warriors were concerned. Rita kept apologizing for the Orange Juice Chicken-which indeed, she really should have. It was one of her signature dishes, and she had let it overcook to the point of dryness. But Cody and Astor found it very funny that she was embarrassed, and began to play her with just a touch of cruelty. "It's dry," Cody said after Rita's third apology. "Not like usual." And he smirked at Brian.

"Yes, I know, but-I really am sorry, Brian," Rita said.

"Oh, it's delicious; think nothing of it, dear lady," Brian said.

"Think nothing at all, dear Mom," Astor echoed loftily, and she and Brian laughed. And so it went until dinner was over and the kids jumped up to clear the table, goaded on by the promise of fifteen more minutes of Wii before bed. Rita took Lily Anne down the hall for a diaper change, and for just a moment, Brian and I faced each other across the table. This was the moment to speak, to bring things out in the open between us, and I leaned forward to seize it.

"Brian," I said.

"Yes?" he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Why have you come back?" I said, trying very hard not to sound like I was accusing him of something.

He gave me a look of cartoon astonishment. "Why, to be with my family, of course," he said. "Why else?"

"I don't know why else," I said, irritated even more. "But there must be something."

He shook his head. "Why would you think that, brother?" he said.

"Because I know you," I said.

"Not really," he told me, locking his eyes onto mine. "You only know one small part of me. And I thought-Oh, damn," he said, as the tinny notes of "Ride of the Valkyries" swelled up from somewhere in his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the screen, and said, "Oh, my. I'm afraid I have to eat and run. As much as I've enjoyed talking with you. I'd better make my apologies to your lady wife." And he got quickly to his feet and swept into the kitchen, where I could hear him flinging his flowery compliments and apologies.

The entire family followed him to the front door, but I managed to cut them off by stepping outside with Brian and firmly closing the door between them and my brother and me. "Brian," I said, "we need to talk a little more."

He paused and turned to face me. "Yes, brother, let's," he said. "A good old-fashioned chin-wag. Catch up with each other and all that. Tell me, how are you coming along with finding that missing girl?"

I shook my head. "That's not what I mean," I said, determined to see this through to the end and drag things into the light. But once again his phone began its frantic Wagnerian chorus and he glanced at it and shut it off.

"Another time, Dexter," he said. "I really do have to go now." And before I could protest, he patted me awkwardly on the shoulder and then hurried away to his car.

I watched him drive away, and my only consolation was that the shoulder he had patted was still slightly damp from Lily Anne's blarp.

I stood and watched the taillights of brian's car until they were gone in the distance. But my unhappiness did not leave with my brother. It swirled around me and rose higher as the moonlight poured in and mixed with the irritation and once more the serpent voice began to wheedle and coax and make its sly suggestions. Come with us, it whispered in honeyed tones of pure and perfect reason. Come away into the night; come and play and you will feel much better…

And I pushed it away, standing firm on the shores of my new land, human fatherhood-but the moonlight flowed back and tugged harder and I closed my eyes for just a moment to shut it out. I thought of Lily Anne. I thought of Cody and Astor, and the fawning pleasure they showed with Brian, and another small rivulet of irritation surged up. I pushed it down, and thought of Deborah and her deep unhappiness. She had been so pleased with catching Victor Chapin, and so miserable when she'd had to let him go. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted the kids to be happy, too-and the wicked little voice trickled back in and said, I know how to make them happy, and you, too.

For just a moment I listened, and everything clicked together with perfect sharpness and clarity and I saw myself slipping away into the night with my duct tape and a knife And I pushed back one more time, hard, and the picture shattered. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The moon was still there, beaming at me expectantly, but I shook my head firmly. I would be strong, and I would prevail. I turned away from the night with brittle resolve and marched briskly back into the house.