TWENTY-THREE
Colby
“Aunt Colby, you did your hair!” Ben announced after jujitsu when I was running around the kitchen in a vain attempt to cook my very first pot of chili while Viera colored.
I’d wanted to surprise Rip with something that was gluten-free and actually tasted good.
And you’d think I’d wrestled Godzilla given how much I’d ended up sweating trying to get the house and kitchen cleaned up while at the same time making sure Viera didn’t eat the glitter glue she was using in her latest masterpiece or more of the cat’s food. Long story short, she’d been curious about the cat food, put some in her mouth, and then cried because she couldn’t get it out.
She and Stu weren’t exactly on friendly terms.
Stu chose that moment to walk by Viera’s chair and meow.
Viera hissed.
Stu ran.
The world was backward.
Then again, so was our house, so, really, it made sense.
“Viera, don’t hiss at Stu, it makes him sad,” I singsonged as I dropped the last can of chilis into the giant pot and stirred. “Hmm, not bad.”
“That smells yummy!” Viera announced, choosing to ignore the hissing comment.
“Thank you!” I did a little dance in place while I continued stirring. Sure, the house didn’t look sparkling, but the dishes were put away and the living room was in some semblance of order. I was learning that the best time for me to get things done was during and after afternoon nap. Once Viera was awake and had a snack, she liked to watch Bluey, which left me time to put the house back together. Today I’d even given myself some extra time to change before dinner. I’d put on different leggings, washed my face, put on some lip gloss, and combed my hair.
Things were looking up!
All moms should be sainted, I mean really.
Suddenly tears sprang to my eyes. I was living Monica’s life, and while I was making it work, part of me felt—guilty.
I was cooking dinner in the kitchen she should have been cooking dinner in. I was waiting for the guy I’d always loved to walk through that door with a smile or possible scowl on his face.
I was getting ready in her bathroom because it had the best lighting.
I was kissing her children and tucking them into bed.
A tear slid down before I could wipe it away.
“I’m trying, Monica… I am…” More tears joined the first as I whispered into the stupid chili. “I’m so sorry.”
I suddenly felt tiny arms wrap around my waist from behind. I turned around and looked down as Viera looked up at me, her curly hair shoved out of her face with a red headband that she’d refused to take off for ten days and counting. “I love you, Aunt Colby.”
I sniffled. “I love you too, squirt.”
“I no squirt! I big!”
“So big,” I agreed. “You’re right.” I bopped her nose. “Can you show me your pretty picture?”
“Yay!” She sprinted back toward the counter and after two minutes finally managed to climb Everest aka her chair and sit comfortably. “Look! It’s you, Aunt Colby.” My eyes were x’s, and I wondered if that meant I was actually dead. “And Uncle Rip.” He looked worse, with teeth that were pointed and painted red. But we were holding hands—I mean, if you can call two lines crossing holding hands. “And Ben.” He looked halfway normal, though he was missing an eye. “And Stu!” The cat was on its back with its legs in the air. No guess there; she’d killed the cat. “And Mommy and Daddy!” She pointed to two suns in the sky with eyes and what looked like wings. “My family,” she announced proudly. “It pretty?”
My emotions were all over the place as I took the drawing from her chubby little hands. “It’s the prettiest picture I’ve ever seen. We should put it on the fridge next to the others!”
“Yes!” She took ten more years to climb down from her chair, and then we were in front of the fridge arranging the alphabet magnets to hold the picture. It was perfect.
It was my family.