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“Probably,” I confirm. “They’re not as well behaved and mild mannered as I was at their age,” I quip, holding back my smile.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You would have been jumping your bike off the front steps and riding with no hands in the street.”
That makes me laugh, mostly because I had done both on numerous occasions.
“Their bags are packed and book bags ready. Do you want me to come over in the morning and get them for school?” she asks, collecting her purse and apron.
“Nope. I can take them before I head to the shop.”
Her matching brown eyes are tired, showing just enough of the exhaustion I’m sure she feels. Long hours and raising twin boys alone, unfortunately, makes Mom look older than her forty-four years. I’m sure she survives on less sleep than I do, and even less food. She’d lost too much weight while we were in Westville, dealing with the aftermath of the boys’ father leaving. Now that we’ve all started new, she’s put a few pounds back on and eats a decent meal on nights she works at the café. The boys will always have enough to eat and will never know the lengths Mom goes, to keep them warm and healthy. I, on the other hand, have been old enough to see it for years.
And it fucking kills me.
“Well, their book bags are by the door with their overnight bags. They did their homework when they got home from school, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Okay,” I tell her, gathering up their bags and heading out the front door.
The boys are already in my car, Jeff pretending to drive, while Jack hangs out the passenger window, Dukes of Hazzard style. They talk to each other on the Ninja Turtle walkie-talkies I got them for Christmas last year. Well, Santa gave them. It’s one of the handful of gifts that I threw under the tree on Christmas morning so that the boys wouldn’t feel the disappointment of not having much to open on the one holiday that’s supposed to bring unlimited joy and happiness to a child’s life.
Shaking my head, I turn around and give Mom a big hug. “Make sure you eat a big meal on break and catch up on some sleep,” I tell her in my best son-knows-best voice.
“I will,” she replies with a smile and tears in her eyes. Reaching forward, she runs her hand along my jaw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I choke on the ball of emotion that lodged itself in the middle of my throat. She’s said this before – hell, tons of times – and every time it gets the same result. “You’d be just fine without me. You’re the strongest woman I know,” I tell her kissing her forehead.
“Don’t let them watch The Hangover again. Last time I had to explain what a hooker was,” she chastises with a raised eyebrow.
“Fine,” I reply with a hearty laugh. “Buckle up, knuckleheads. We’ve got a full night of shenanigans and debauchery to partake in,” I say just loud enough so Mom can hear.
“Yay!” they both holler in unison, diving into the back seat and sitting in their booster seats. They hate them, but I won’t let them ride in the old truck without them.
“Let’s go!” Jeff yells, pointing down the road.
“To de-batteryyyyyyyy,” Jack adds, big, dirty smiles swept across both of their faces.
