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He plugs in the blow dryer and goes to town on my hair. He even goes as far as to slather me with sweet-scented cream. I wonder how he knows how to do all of this, but my thoughts disappear with the fog. He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out of it. When he returns, he has the t-shirt he was wearing and another pair of sweatpants. He slides the t-shirt over my head, and I inhale. I inhale like he’s not standing in front of me. Because it smells like him, and I can’t wait to have his scent all over my body again.
“What are you going to wear?” I barely get the words out when he picks me up.
He carries me toward the bedroom and shuts and locks the door behind him. I really don’t care if he does or he doesn’t. Even if Sonny comes home “early,” he goes straight to his matchbox of a room and never turns around after that. He’s glued to the TV. Reruns of Gun Smoke, The Honeymooners, and M*A*S*H are always on repeat.
Lilo toes the shirt I was wearing earlier. “This,” he says.
He sidesteps it, though, and sets me on the bed. I wonder if he’s going to leave. Maybe I don’t hide the disappointment on my face because he tilts my chin up with a finger, kisses me softly, and tells me to push over. I get comfortable. He lowers the towel and slips in beside me.
I want his skin close to mine again. I undress but leave his shirt at the bottom of the bed. I’ll wear it when I get up to fix us breakfast.
He sighs when my body settles next to his, facing him. He kisses my forehead and then wraps his arms around me. My eyes are on his until I fall asleep.
I’m dead to the world after that. I’m not sure how long I’m out for, but, almost unbelievably, I’m up first. Wearing his shirt and the sweatpants, I kiss his lips and tiptoe to the bathroom. Light is barely touching the sky outside. I do my business and prepare to start breakfast.
The phone rings. It’s Molly saying that Minnie is crying to come home. I leave everything on the counter and run down the street to grab her. She hooks onto me like an octopus, her eyes red, her cheeks stained with tears, her nose runny.
Molly ticks her mouth. “You’ve become more than a sister to her,” she says. Her voice is sad, and so are her eyes.
She feels bad for the both of us.
It’s fine, though. I love Minnie, and she’ll always have me. Just like Ava will, too. I’m a little slow to return home. I’m sore—from head to toes. It feels like I’m having period cramps. But Minnie is smiling now and wanting to get down. She’s pointing at birds and wanting to talk about them. Halfway there, though, she wants me to pick her up again. She’s on my hip, and I’m favoring that side because the child is getting heavy.
The TV is on blast when I walk inside. I stop halfway to the kitchen. Lilo is dressed, but this time he’s wearing Sonny’s old shirt instead of his own. He’s sitting at the counter. Glass catches the light and sparkles on the floor across from him. It looks like what used to be a beer bottle. The yeasty smell floats in the air. There’s an empty box of the brand Sonny drinks on the counter. It’s right next to the things I left out.
Sonny is in his chair, his back toward us, watching Gun Smoke.
“What the fuck happened?” I say silently to Lilo, hoping he can read my lips.
He shrugs, like nothing happened. Bullshit. The evidence is all over the floor. Did Sonny try to hit him and miss? Or did Lilo dodge in time? But it’s hard for me to concentrate on that when Lilo is looking at me the way he is.
It’s like he sees something he likes. But more. Much more. It’s almost like he’s seen his future, and he wants it now.
“Minnie,” he says, nodding toward her.
“Yeah. Minnie.”
“Hi, Minnie,” he says to her.
She tries to stick her head in my neck but can’t. She puts her two fingers in her mouth and stares at him.
“You hungry?” he asks.
She nods.
“You want to sit next to me while Lucila makes breakfast?”
She looks at me and I smile. She looks at him and narrows her eyes. Mostly everyone calls me Luci. But when Hoffa comes sniffing around him again, she becomes interested. She moves her body in a way that tells me she wants to sit in the chair next to him.
I set her down. Once he starts talking to her about Hoffa, she’s a goner. I move in a daze to the stove, getting everything ready for breakfast.
“Sonny,” Lilo says, grabbing a piece of paper from a stack on the counter, along with a box of crayons, and setting them in front of Minnie. “You want breakfast?”
He grunts in response. I drop the spatula. I usually make whatever, and he usually comes and gets it whenever he wants to. Usually after we’ve cleared out. I turn and stare at Lilo, but he’s busy helping Minnie draw Hoffa.
The TV turns low, and Sonny rises from his chair. He doesn’t stretch like he usually does. He seems stiff. He’s tall and muscular, though he’s getting a paunch belly. He runs a hand through his hair. It’s slicked back at the top, but the bottom is all perfectly round curls.
He turns and comes into the kitchen.
