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“In Depends pants?” Zeke asks around a stifled laugh. I try to remember what I’m wearing, praying it doesn’t look like I’m wearing a diaper.
“What’s that?” Ivan echoes.
“You know. Awesome. Beyoncé wears them. She sings about ‘in Depends pants ladies’.”Independent Ladies. This girl is so much cooler at four than I’ll ever be.
“You sure she’s not dead?” Ivan asks.
“Or enchanted?” Rachel asks.
“Pretty sure,” Zeke says.
“You could always try kissing her,” Rachel says, her voice softer and almost conspiratorial. “You know, just to be sure.”
My heart hammers in my chest and I realize I want him to play along. I want him to cross the room and sweep the hair off my forehead and kiss me softly, and then I wake up and Rachel and Ivan keep believing I’m a princess.
“I’m not exactly a prince.” Zeke’s voice is soft and there’s a note of something sad.
I let out a little sigh, unable to hold it back. As if on cue, Zeke shushes his niece and nephew and the door shuts.
I open my eyes. The light isn’t as violent as I feared, but my head is definitely pounding. I flip over onto my stomach and bury my face into the pillow. The sheets smell like Zeke, and I’m inundated with the memory of him tucking me in, rubbing my back until I fell asleep. The last clear memory I have is Caro and Aly making Zeke swear he’d get me home safely and both of them winking at him. And there was a Navy uniform hat. No clue what that was about.
There’s a subtle rustling on the bed and I wonder if one of the kids snuck back in. I look over my shoulder at the door. It’s slightly ajar, but it’s quiet in the apartment. I turn the other direction, just as a large wet nose smashes into my eye.
I shriek and push away from whatever just made out with my eyeball. But I’m too close to the edge of the bed and I tumble backward, falling onto the floor. I land hard on my tailbone, knocking into the nightstand. The lamp falls and, thankfully, lands on the shade, as three sets of footsteps rumble toward me.
“She got her kiss!” Rachel squeals.
“That’s not a prince!” Ivan says but starts laughing too.
“He’s so handsome, though.” Rachel giggles.
I look up at the bed and see a large, round snout and two brown eyes looking down at me. Dale the pig snorts, and when I look back at the door, Zeke looks like he’s about to burst into hysterics.
I push myself up to sitting and wince at the ache in my tailbone. Zeke tugs me to my feet, steadying me by the elbow.
“She’s not a zombie,” Ivan says, sounding a little disappointed.
I look down and realize I’m wearing one of Zeke’s Washington State T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. I have a vague memory of telling him to turn around while I got changed, so at least I don’t have to be embarrassed about that.
“Was that something you were worried about?” I ask him.
He shrugs one shoulder.
“I told him you were a princess,” Rachel says, pushing her way through and then cradling the pig in her arms. It’s almost as big as she is. He licks her cheek as if she’s a lollipop.
“I think I’d rather be Beyoncé,” I say, feeling a blush creep in now that we’re all awake.
“No one, and I mean no one, can be Beyoncé except Beyoncé,” Rachel says, and then turns out of the room with her handsome pig, Ivan following her.
“Put Dale in his crate, Rae Rae,” Zeke calls after them.
“Best name for a pig ever,” I say.
“Truer words were never said,” Zeke says.
From the main room I hear Rachel singing.
“The farmer and the Dale, the farmer and the Dale, high ho and berry o’s, the farmer and the Dale.’”
