Page 33 of Bobby

“Yes, it is. We’re going to get spoiled if we accept this.”

I bite my tongue and turn away from Ivy as she talks with all the seriousness of a seven-year-old. I agree with her, but it just sounds funny coming from her, and I refuse for my girls to think I’d ever laugh at them.

Not to their face, at least.

“Oh.” I might not see Lily, but I can hear her thinking. “You’re right, Mommy. This is too much. You can tell Mr. Bobby he can take this back.”

I turn back around and grab the stuffed dinosaur that somehow ended up in their room. Out of the billion toys they’re unpacking from the massive number of deliveries we’ve had over the last four hours, she’s graciously picked the one thing that would be too much. The dragons, unicorns, dolls, books, and even games must be considered essential now that she has them in her room. Doesn’t matter that in our own home, all of her toys, and her sister’s, fit in one box. Now it’s tripled in size for both of them.

With one last look at the sea of toys, I take the blue dinosaur and walk out of the room. I just can’t. My girls don’t seem to mind the entire department store that threw up in their room that they’re “redecorating,” but I do.

I look down at the stuffed animal and don’t even see how this is my life now. So much has happened. Too much. I’m going from one extreme to the next, all in one breath with my head underwater. And somehow Bobby seems to be the crux in all of it. I should probably be concerned, but instead I’m grateful.

For years, every problem has been mine to solve. Every bill, every emergency, every setback. Now someone keeps stepping in before I can even figure out what to do next. Maybe that should bother me. But… it doesn’t.

I’m overwhelmed to the point that laughing is the only way to keep me from crying.

I didn’t sleep well last night, which isn’t helping the matter. Not because the bed wasn’t comfortable, or the clothing wasn’t soft. It was the softest clothing I’ve ever felt, and I swear the bed was made of clouds as I sank into it. But how could I sleep when our entire world has gone up in flames? Literally.

Every time I tried to tell myself that it will be okay, that we can rebuild and buy again, a memory pops up of what I lost. Of the keepsake handprint ornaments they made when they were babies. Or pictures of me and my parents before they died. Small things that fit in shoeboxes, that we’d kept with us for this long only to be turned to ash.

“They didn’t like the dinosaur?” Marco asks from his spot on the couch.

He’s been with us all day, “looking over the deliveries,” he says. Him still being here makes me almost sick to my stomach, thinking about how much more is coming. Seems like an awful lot for us. First came breakfast, then a full load of groceries for two weeks. Clothing came next, including new school uniforms for the girls that Bobby somehow got in a day’s notice when it took them almost a month when I ordered them before the school semester started. With the last load, we got household items like toys and just some homier items to liven up the place a bit. It barely resembles the sterile apartment it was the day before.

“Guess not.” I plop down on the other end of the couch in mental exhaustion.

“If you saved the receipt, you can return it.” Nothing came with a tag, but I know everything is new. It feels and smells new.

I toss it beside him on the couch as the doorbell rings.

“What now?” I mutter and hear a soft chuckle from Marco. He didn’t laugh or smile much when I met him a week ago, but he does now. Just a little to let me know he’s getting used to us.

With another groan about another delivery and not about how my knees do that cracking thing when I stand, I get up and shuffle over to the door.

I still can’t believe this all happened in a week. It’s as if my entire life has turned upside down.

Scratch that. It isn’t like it has. It did.

“Yes?” I open the door and see a man standing with a clipboard and blue overalls with some furniture company logo on it. Behind him, holding the elevator, is one of the security guards who’s accompanied all the other delivery personnel up here today.

“We have the princess bunk bed set to deliver?” He phrases it as a question, as if he’s unsure if he rang the right apartment number, judging by his expression. Which I’m sure is not a pleasant one based on how I’m feeling.

“Seriously?” I ask, my voice flat with zero emotion behind it. Kind of like him, as he gives me a blank stare back until he looks down at the form.

“Deluxe princess bunk beds with the added vanity and two-desk layout for a Willow Frazzer. Are you her?”

Are you kidding me? The girls already have a bed to share, and the room comes with a desk as it is. Why do they need more?

“Yes,” Marco cuts in before I can refuse the delivery. He comes up behind me and opens the door wider. “That’s her. I’ll sign for it.” He grabs the clipboard, and the guy looks at us strangely before nodding.

“I got my guys unloading it downstairs now. We should have it up and start setting it up soon enough.” He grabs the clipboard that Marco signed and goes back to the elevator across the hall.

The door shuts, thanks to Marco, and I look at him with a shake of my head. I’m done. So done.

“Marco,” I growl, and his lip twitches, which just irritates me even more.

“He’s in his home office. Go on up. I’ll watch over things here.”