“One is a half-brother, and I haven’t seen him in a while,” I explain. “In any case…” Regroup, Octavia. “What I meant is that Evan has people who care for him. He’s going to be okay. And so will you.”
I get up, and she comes forward hesitantly, putting her arms around my waist. “I like you.”
“I like you, too. I wish…”
I wish she and Evan would come to St. Louis with us. I wish I could save Ross, erase that bad dream that’s been haunting me, save the whole world.
Is it the hormones? Is it the feeling I may have the chance to make a difference?
Or am I just the queen of wishful thinking?
* * *
Lunch is a quiet affair. Evan seems a thousand miles away, head bent over his plate, awkwardly leaning over the table with his broken arm in the way. Melissa seems to be far away too, and Matt looks pissed. I wonder what he and Evan talked about, and how I would love to kiss that frown between his brows and hold him.
“Have you got any doctor appointments?” he asks, putting his fork down. “Any other errands for us to do?”
Evan glances up, looking startled. “Yeah, I got an appointment today. But I’ll call a cab, if you can just look after Melissa for me.”
“I’ll drive you.” Matt shoots me a questioning look. “If Octavia doesn’t mind staying home.”
“That’s fine,” I say, and I’m rewarded with a softening of Matt’s expression, and a quick smile from Melissa.
Why fight it? I’m tired. And this little girl tugs at my heartstrings. Besides, I’m here to help in any way I can, and that surely includes babysitting and watching cartoons with her, with my legs up and lots of pillows, right?
My phone rings and a glance at the screen tells me it’s Gigi. I get up to take the call, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. I stop at the window facing the street. “Yeah?”
“How’s my favorite sister doing?”
“I’m your only sister,” I remind her.
“True, that. Still.” I hear laughter in her voice. “How’s our hometown?”
“Looks the same.”
“Does it feel the same, though?”
I twitch the curtain aside. Two kids on bicycles are racing down the empty street. “No,” I admit. “I feel like a stranger here.”
She’s silent for a beat. “That only means you moved on. You’re not the kid who grew up there anymore. Your life is here, with us.”
“Yeah.” She’s right.
How many siblings do you have?
“And you? Feeling okay?” she asks.
These questions always catch me off guard. It takes me a few seconds every time to remember they mean the baby. I settle a hand over the swell of my belly. “I’m fine. You? We haven’t talked lately
. How’s classes? And work?”
“Oh fine. You know. Same old.”
Gigi is studying to become a social worker and waiting tables at a little diner downtown. But sometimes she thinks she wants to be a manicurist in a hair salon, or else a stylist in Hollywood. In short, Gigi doesn’t know what she wants any more than Merc does, only she doesn’t stress about it.
Or maybe she wants to be all these things, and more, and has embraced that desire.
“Plans for tonight? Going out with Sydney and your harem?”