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School doesn’t start back for another three weeks, the summer break is still going strong. Starting this week, Tanner has baseball practice every Tuesday and Thursday from 5:30-6:30. Lilly has swimming lessons first thing in the morning, on Mondays and Wednesdays until the summer ends. Honestly, I still don’t understand how you can teach a two year old to swim, especially since at twenty-six I’m still unfamiliar with the skill, but I distinctly remember my sister’s excitement about it when I talked to her on the phone.
And now she won’t be here to witness it.
Sighing, I push to my feet. I place the elephant on top of the microwave in the kitchen for now. The room still needs to be set up with utensils and appliances which I’m not likely to use, so when I work on that, I’ll move the elephant to a better spot.
“Oomph.” I barely catch myself as I trip over a rubber duck. “Shit.” I immediately regret the curse word, especially as Tanner looks over at me, his mouth forming a perfect little o.
Why does it feel like even the eight year old is watching me with judging eyes? As if even he knows enough about life to know that I’m highly underqualified to raise him and his sister.
“Sorry,” I mutter, picking up the duck and frowning.
As if on cue, Lilly starts to cry, her screams emanating through the house from her room.
I move through the hallway, trying not to focus on how bare the ivory walls are. The door to Lilly’s room is already open and when I walk into the lilac painted room, the screaming gets louder. Lilly’s mess of chocolate curls on her head is the only thing I can see as she tries to push the covers off of herself, only managing to tangle herself up more.
Looks like nap time is over.
I gently pull the covers away from her body, but it doesn’t stop the screaming, if anything it seems like it makes it worse.
I pick her up, trying to rock her as her tears soak through my t-shirt.
Fuck, does rocking still work at this age or does that only work on newborns?
Lilly continues to scream.
I check her pull up, thinking maybe it’s wet, but it’s as dry as my mom’s fried, blonde hair.
“Okay, let’s see if you’re hurt.” I scan her for any visible injuries but there aren’t any and she’s not running a fever. “Maybe you’re hungry.” I cringe as she starts to pound her little hands against my shoulder as I carry her to the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Tanner questions, his arms folded over his chest as he watches me try to calm his sister.
“I don’t know yet, Tan-”
“Aren’t grownups supposed to know everything?” he asks. I refrain from laughing.
If only he knew that grownups know about as much as kids.
Especially this one.
“I’m trying to figure it out now. Go sit on the couch and finish watching your show.” When he hesitates for a second, I do my best to recreate the warning look my grandma would give me when I was little to let me know to do what she says or face the consequences.
Which would usually be her yelling at me.
That’d be enough to make me cry and stop whatever I was doing. But only with grandma, everyone else would have to resort to spankings to get any type of reaction right out of me.
A devil child, my mom would call me, as if it wasn’t her fault I was so rebellious.
I open the fridge, grabbing a jar of applesauce and screwing the top off. I manage to pull a spoon from one of the packed boxes and attempt to feed it to Lilly.
It ends up spat back at me, the cold, gritty food, landing on the side of my face and shirt.
My mouth drops open in shock and for a moment I just stare at Lilly.
This didn’t happen at Grandma’s. She’d check and see if her pull up needed to be changed and if it wasn’t that, food would be the answer.
Lilly’s screams are strained now as her face reddens slightly and I start to panic.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
