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He laughs, and the sound warms me. It reminds me of when I was ten years old, and I asked him to get me a calculator for Christmas so that I could add up the profit I was making by selling apples from our orchard upstate to local moms to make apple pie. It was one of the few times I ever heard my dad laugh and look at me with appreciation. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I miss his laughter. How I yearn for it. How much I want laughter in my life. How it makes me feel light. Like last night had been until I saw Zara’s phone. She made me feel like I was floating. Being with her felt easy, like I was at home. Which is a stupid thought because I don’t even know the woman. And never will. I have to get her out of my mind.
13
Zara
Dear Sandra,
You ever heard that saying, don’t shit where you eat? What does it really mean? Do people ever really shit where they eat? I think not.
If they do, they are stupid.
That is all for now,
Miss you!
Zara
“Batman, Batman,” my nephew, Luke, screams as he runs back and forth between the living room and the kitchen with a toy car in his hand. Charlotte chases behind him, singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and I hope that’s not her way of telling me she’s expecting Christmas presents anytime soon. I look at the laptop screen and refresh to see if any new positions have shown up for me to apply to in the last thirty seconds.
“I’m hungry.” Luke stops in front of me and drops the car on my foot. His hazel eyes look at me with a sad expression as he pouts. “And so is she.” He points at Charlotte, who has also stopped and is now twirling around in her pink ballet outfit, stained with red ink. I hold in a sigh.
“What would you like to eat?” I place the laptop onto the couch and ruffle the top of his dark, curly hair. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“Ham and cheese on a baguette,” he answers, and I stifle a laugh. He’s definitely Elise’s son.
“We don’t have any baguettes, Luke.” I shake my head as I head to the kitchen and open the fridge. “Let’s see, we have?—”
“Chicken curry and roti then.” He follows behind me, and I press my lips together. If he’s this bossy at six, I can only imagine what he’ll be like at sixteen. He’s my nephew, and I love him, but his manners are not always the best. Always demanding this and that.
“We don’t have any.” I shake my head.
“Grandma would have some.” He stomps as he compares me to my mother. My mother cooked pots full of food every week. Mainly dishes that reminded her of the home she grew up in, in Guyana. “Curry or cookup rice, please.”
“Luke, we don’t have cookup rice, curry, chow mein, pepperpot, or…” I stop as I realize he’s not paying attention to me. I look back into the fridge. “We have cheese and cucumbers. I can make you cheese and cucumber sandwiches.”
“I want a cheese sandwich.” Charlotte smiles at me, her big green eyes glowing in her pretty face. Her long dark hair is up in a ponytail, and I can’t help but think that Elise has made some good-looking children. Sometimes, I wonder if my own children will be as attractive. However, I have to find a husband first.
“Great. And you, Luke?”
“I want a Lunchables.” He juts his little chin out, and I press my lips together. He’s only six, but I swear he’s been put on earth to test my last nerves.
“We don’t buy Lunchables.” I shake my head. “You can have a PB and J or cheese sandwich.”
“PB and J.” He shrugs.
“Please,” I remind him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, running back into the living room. “Batman, Batman,” he screams, and I wonder if I close my eyes and tap my heels together three times if I can be transported back to last night. The beginning of the night, though. Not the end. The part where Zeus rescued me from the loser gym guy and then took me outside. I blush as I think of the cab ride and how the taxi driver had gotten a glimpse of my scandalous night.
“Can I have orange juice, Aunty Zara?” Charlotte asks, and I try to clear my thoughts before I give her my attention. I need to get my mind out of the gutter. I can’t just stand here reminiscing about my hot night of debauchery.
“Yes, you may.” I grab the carton of orange juice and two plastic mugs from the cupboard, as I already know that Luke will also want some. I pour the orange juice and then hand her the mug before putting the carton back into the fridge.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, and I beam at her before quickly making two sandwiches, handing them to them, and heading back to my seat on the couch.
I grab my laptop and stare at the screen for a couple of moments. I don't have the energy to look for a job, but I know that doesn't matter right now. I know that what I need more than anything is a paycheck. I need to make money. And fast. I refresh the screen and then pause when I hear a rapping on the door, and I freeze for a second. I have no idea who could be here.
"Who is it, Aunty Zara?" Luke says as he comes running up to me. "Shall I go and check?"
