the rest of the night, which is hard to do now that she’s staying in our basement for the week. I know I’m supposed to be supportive and helpful, so I work overtime to do little chores around the house and keep Britney and Brenton occupied, which keeps me from crossing Cherie’s path too often.
As one day passes into the next, however, she begins to surface more. I run into her the next evening after Shiva when I go scrounging for leftovers. She’s in the kitchen, sitting in silence with Danika at our dining table.
I feel compelled to ask, “How are you? Do you need anything?”
Danika gives me the stink eye, as if to say,
“Back off, kissing up to her is my job.”
I try to pretend she’s not the world’s biggest bitch.
Cherie whispers, “No, thank you, Jack,” and a sad smile follows. I like when she says my name, and I’d give anything to take the hurt out of her voice when she says it.
On Wednesday morning, Mom comes in my room and closes the door like she’s about to tell me a secret.
“Jack, honey?”
I don’t open my eyes, but I turn over when she sits down and shakes me gently.
“What, Mom?” I look at the clock. 8:00 AM. This clock had better be three hours slow.
“Honey, wake up a second; I need a favor from you,” she says. Whenever she starts off like that, I know it’s not just a favor. When Mom wants something simple, she just tells me to do it.
“I need a favor from you”
is code for a whole day of babysitting or a list of chores.
I still refuse to open my eyes. “What?”
“We have to take Danika to the airport and meet Jim’s parents at the lawyer’s office.”
I groan. I already know where this is going.
Mom rattles on. “Chloe and Claudia are going to the mall with some friends, and I’m sending Brenton to Raine Johnson’s house for a sleepover. I don’t want him to have to sit through another Shiva – ”
“Mom, what’s the favor?” I just want her to stop talking; she’s giving me a headache.
She hesitates. “Well, I need you to keep an eye on Britney, and I was hoping you’d help me with Cherie.”
I lift my head. “Cherie?”
Mom leans in to confide, “She’s not eating. I’m a little worried. Danika said something about her being a vegan, so I don’t know. Maybe we don’t have anything here for her to eat. Would you take her to the store for some groceries?” She sees my eyes roll back into my head, and she hurries to say, “I’ll leave some cash for you to get a few things you like, too.”
I’m about to protest, but then I think better of it. I weigh the con of being alone with a teary – eyed Cherie with the pro of a chance to eat frozen foods and not get a lecture about preservatives. Mom’s good. She knows my weak spots.
Maybe Cherie won’t be so bad. We’ll be out in public. She’ll be too proud to cry or anything. She might be nasty to someone, but that’s okay, as long as it’s not me. I can deal a little better with Mean Cherie than Sad Cherie.
“Okay,” I concede. She tousles my hair, and I jerk my head away. She laughs and bends to give me a kiss. Her strong, going-to-something-important perfume envelopes me.
“Thank you, sweetie. I knew I could count on you,” she whispers. “I told her you’d be ready in an hour, so try to get up soon, okay?”
“What?!”
But she’s out of the room and the door is closing behind her, and I have no choice other than to get out of bed.
I should have known that gathering Britney and setting up her car seat would be easier than rounding up Miss Belle, who is thirty minutes late for our supermarket appointment. I use the first ten minutes to really clean up the inside of my car, kind of spruce it up a little extra for the occasion. Then I have to play a spelling game with Britney for the next twenty minutes to avoid honking the horn.
“Spell…snow.”
“S. N. O.”
“W. Snow has a w at the end. It’s a tricky word.” I sigh and throw my head back against the
As one day passes into the next, however, she begins to surface more. I run into her the next evening after Shiva when I go scrounging for leftovers. She’s in the kitchen, sitting in silence with Danika at our dining table.
I feel compelled to ask, “How are you? Do you need anything?”
Danika gives me the stink eye, as if to say,
“Back off, kissing up to her is my job.”
I try to pretend she’s not the world’s biggest bitch.
Cherie whispers, “No, thank you, Jack,” and a sad smile follows. I like when she says my name, and I’d give anything to take the hurt out of her voice when she says it.
On Wednesday morning, Mom comes in my room and closes the door like she’s about to tell me a secret.
“Jack, honey?”
I don’t open my eyes, but I turn over when she sits down and shakes me gently.
“What, Mom?” I look at the clock. 8:00 AM. This clock had better be three hours slow.
“Honey, wake up a second; I need a favor from you,” she says. Whenever she starts off like that, I know it’s not just a favor. When Mom wants something simple, she just tells me to do it.
“I need a favor from you”
is code for a whole day of babysitting or a list of chores.
I still refuse to open my eyes. “What?”
“We have to take Danika to the airport and meet Jim’s parents at the lawyer’s office.”
I groan. I already know where this is going.
Mom rattles on. “Chloe and Claudia are going to the mall with some friends, and I’m sending Brenton to Raine Johnson’s house for a sleepover. I don’t want him to have to sit through another Shiva – ”
“Mom, what’s the favor?” I just want her to stop talking; she’s giving me a headache.
She hesitates. “Well, I need you to keep an eye on Britney, and I was hoping you’d help me with Cherie.”
I lift my head. “Cherie?”
Mom leans in to confide, “She’s not eating. I’m a little worried. Danika said something about her being a vegan, so I don’t know. Maybe we don’t have anything here for her to eat. Would you take her to the store for some groceries?” She sees my eyes roll back into my head, and she hurries to say, “I’ll leave some cash for you to get a few things you like, too.”
I’m about to protest, but then I think better of it. I weigh the con of being alone with a teary – eyed Cherie with the pro of a chance to eat frozen foods and not get a lecture about preservatives. Mom’s good. She knows my weak spots.
Maybe Cherie won’t be so bad. We’ll be out in public. She’ll be too proud to cry or anything. She might be nasty to someone, but that’s okay, as long as it’s not me. I can deal a little better with Mean Cherie than Sad Cherie.
“Okay,” I concede. She tousles my hair, and I jerk my head away. She laughs and bends to give me a kiss. Her strong, going-to-something-important perfume envelopes me.
“Thank you, sweetie. I knew I could count on you,” she whispers. “I told her you’d be ready in an hour, so try to get up soon, okay?”
“What?!”
But she’s out of the room and the door is closing behind her, and I have no choice other than to get out of bed.
I should have known that gathering Britney and setting up her car seat would be easier than rounding up Miss Belle, who is thirty minutes late for our supermarket appointment. I use the first ten minutes to really clean up the inside of my car, kind of spruce it up a little extra for the occasion. Then I have to play a spelling game with Britney for the next twenty minutes to avoid honking the horn.
“Spell…snow.”
“S. N. O.”
“W. Snow has a w at the end. It’s a tricky word.” I sigh and throw my head back against the
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