I took a sip of coffee, buying myself a second.Talking about Novalea made her feel closer.That was good and terrible because if she felt closer, then the danger did too.
“Our dad died first,” I said, my voice softer now.“Cancer.It was ugly and slow and one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening, but nobody says it out loud until they absolutely have to.”
Wheels’ expression didn’t change, but his eyes stayed on me.
“He was sick for almost two years.Mom did everything she could.I was in college.Novalea was still in high school.”I stared at the alley wall across from me.“I came home every weekend.Sometimes during the week too.I told myself I was helping Mom, but mostly I think I just needed to see him.To make sure he was still there.”
Wheels reached across the small space between us and rested his hand on my knee.
Just there.Steady.
I covered his hand with mine.“He died in March,” I said.“It rained that whole week.I remember being so mad about it.Like the weather had no right to be dramatic when we were already dealing with enough.”
“Sounds fair.”
“It was not rational.”
“Grief isn’t.”
I looked at him.His voice was quiet, matter-of-fact.Not pitying.
That made it easier to keep going.
“Mom held it together for Novalea and me after that.Or at least, I thought she did.She went back to work.Paid bills.Made sure Novalea got to school.Asked me about college like she still cared about my stupid classes.”I swallowed.“Three years later, she had a heart attack.No warning.No slow goodbye.Just...gone.”
Wheels’ thumb brushed once against my knee.
I looked down at his hand.“After that, it was me and Novalea.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-four.”
I let out a small laugh and keep talking.“Novalea was twenty and old enough that technically she didn’t need raising.Young enough that she absolutely did.”
Wheels nodded slowly.
“I sort of stepped into it without deciding to,” I said.“Bills.Insurance.Paperwork.Funeral stuff.House stuff.Reminding her to eat.Making sure she finished school.Making sure she didn’t fall apart.Or maybe making sure I didn’t.”I looked toward the end of the alley.“She hated it.”
“You taking care of her?”
“Me acting like I had to.”I smiled, but it hurt a little.“Novalea is soft in some ways, but she’s not weak.She tells me that all the time.She says, ‘Goldie, you don’t have to parent me.I already had parents.’”
Wheels’ mouth twitched.“She sounds mouthy.”
“She is.”I looked back at him.“You’d like her.”
“Probably.”
“She teaches fifth grade now.”
His eyebrows lifted.“Yeah?”
I nodded, and this time my smile came easier.“She loves it.Always loved kids.Even when we were younger, she was the one babysitting, helping cousins with homework, volunteering at summer programs.I used to tease her that she had the patience of a saint.”
“Does she?”
“With kids, yes.”I lifted one shoulder.“With me, no.”
