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“Mom, you did tell the others to be on their best behavior, right?”
She grins, leaving no doubt that the mischievousness of the Jenkins siblings is not solely from our dad as many assume. Mom’s is just more subtle.
“Damon and Darcy are picking her up.” Oh crap. “Their flight gets in shortly before hers, so it’s the most convenient.”
“Those two will scar her for life with their bickering.”
“They’re a delight,” she reminds me, patting my cheek. “As are all my children.”
Being the oldest at thirty-five, I take that as a compliment since I helped take care of the rest when dad and mom were working. After me is Catherine at thirty, followed by Damon and Darcy, twenty-seven and twenty-five respectively. Mary is eighteen and a senior in high school. The twins, Vincent and Violet, are sixteen and sophomores.
I was never upset that a lot of my childhood involved babysitting my siblings. Quite the opposite. I was happy to help my parents and take pride in the accomplishments my brothers and sisters have and will achieve.
Seeing as how I plan to retire from the military when I’ve got my twenty in, I may not have children of my own. I’ll leave that decision up to fate, though I do take the precautions to ensure the odds go my way. They’re foolproof, actually.
I don’t date.
I don’t do one night stands.
I don’t have friends with benefits.
What I do have are a right and left hand that get the job done just fine when I feel a need.
They’ve served me well for years, so I don’t see a need to break up with either anytime soon.
I don’t negate Mom’s claim, knowing she doesn’t believe any of us are perfect.
What I do say is, “I’ll make sure we have aspirin for the headache they’ll give her.” Mom swats at my arm, though I move to avoid it. You’d think my evasive techniques would’ve been learned during basic. They were already ingrained in me from being a Jenkins.
With six younger siblings, they came in handy.
Continues to do so on missions.
It’s saved my butt and those of my teammates, Boone, Kirk Michaels, Thomas Andrew, Matthew Sawyer, and Devin Jones, a few times.
An hour later, the place is spotless, a task that didn’t take long as mom is somewhat of a neat freak now that we’re all grown or close to it. It still looks like a home, of course. Belongings here and there, but there is order to the chaos. Side dishes are made, the main course is cooking, and I’ve finally talked my mom into relaxing while we wait for Aubrey to arrive.
In the meantime, I take a shower, dress in presentable clothes as opposed to the sweats I’d been wearing to clean. I’m fixing a snack when the front door rattles, my theory being that dad has never repaired it in order to keep track of our comings and goings throughout the years.
“Your favorite offspring is home!” Damon hollers in greeting. As he does every time he walks in.
“Thank you for announcing my presence,” Darcy interjects. “And they say good help is hard to find,” she mutters. “Clearly they need to up their criteria.”
Damon, seeming shocked she circumvented his claim, is not to be outdone. “I want a raise then.”
“Talk to HR. She’ll be back from vacation on February 29th.”
“That’s next year.”
A giggle hits my ear, one I’ve never heard before in my life. But I want to again and again and again. “She could’ve said the 30th.”
“Et tu, Aubrey?” This time, the laughter isn’t as free. It’s sad. What’s that about?
“Us women have to stick together,” Darcy defends her new pal.
“We do?” It’s a question, but she quickly corrects it with a firmer, “We do.”
“Atta girl,” Darcy whispers. I slowly shift closer, needing to see this Aubrey.
