The Mixtape

That only made me hold him more.

When we separated, he gave me his broken smile, and I gave him mine.

“Good night, Em. I hope you sleep well tonight.”

He turned on his heel and began to walk away as I slightly parted my lips and muttered, “Good night.”

I awakened as the sunlight beamed into my bedroom, shaking me from my night’s rest. As I opened my eyes, I remembered that I wasn’t in my bed, but the guest room at Oliver’s. I rolled over in the bed, expecting to see Reese still sleeping beside me. When she wasn’t there, I shot up from my bed as anxiety hit me quickly.

I rushed out of the bedroom, on a mission to find my daughter.

“Mr. Mith! We need more chocolate chips!” the familiar voice said, giving me a flash of comfort as I headed toward the kitchen. There, standing in front of me, were Oliver and Reese, covered in flour and hovering over a mixing bowl.

“Hi, Mama!” Reese exclaimed, waving my way as she popped chocolate chips into her mouth instead of the mixing bowl.

“Good morning.” I smiled, looking around at the spotless kitchen that I was supposed to be cleaning that morning. Well, almost spotless, except for the flour and cracked eggs from their morning cooking ventures. “What are you two up to?”

“Mr. Mith wanted to make you your favorite breakfast. So we’re making you chocolate chip pancakes!”

“Oh, how sweet.” I sniffed the air. “Is something burning, though?”

“Oh shit!” Oliver remarked, rushing over to the oven. He pulled it open as a cloud of smoke filled the space. He tossed on an oven mitt and pulled out the tray of bacon. Crispy, black, burned-to-a-crisp bacon.

“That’s a quarter for the jar!” Reese replied. “Eww, Mr. Mith, that stinks.”

He placed the pan on top of the stove and gave me a goofy grin. “Reese said you love bacon, but I doubt you’ll love this.”

I laughed and walked toward them. “Let me help you guys out.”

“No!” they said in unison, shaking their hands in my direction.

“Mama! We wanted to make it for you and bring it to you in bed. So go back to bed.”

“But—”

“Bed!” Oliver commanded, pointing toward the direction I’d come from.

“Okay, okay,” I said, tossing my hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not eating that bacon.”

He picked up a piece and bit into it to make a statement. The way his face cringed as he chewed it made me snicker. “I’ll make some new bacon.”

I headed back to the bedroom and waited for another twenty minutes or so for the breakfast to come. When it was ready, both chefs entered the room with a tray that had a vase with flowers, a cup of coffee, and a plate with the oddest-looking pancakes I’d ever seen in my life. A bottle of syrup sat next to a bowl of fresh fruit.

“Here you go, Mama.” Reese helped Oliver hold the tray, and then she placed it on my lap.

“Oh my! It looks amazing,” I said, beaming. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed.”

“I picked the flowers outside! And Mr. Mith made you better bacon.”

“I see that.” I picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. “Perfection. Perfectly crisp.”

Oliver patted himself on the back. “Third time’s a charm.”

“Third time?”

“We don’t need to go into details,” he joked.

“Mr. Mith, I’m gonna go eat my pancakes with your parents and tell them about how you burned the bacon,” Reese said, hurrying out of the room. That girl was always rushing off.

“Breakfast in bed? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You deserve so much more than that. But fair warning: if you find eggshells in the pancakes, that’s my fault.”

I laughed. “You should’ve just made me a grilled cheese.”

“Next time.”

He moved in closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Sleep helped. Thank you for listening last night. I didn’t know how much I just needed someone to listen to me.”

“I’m always here to listen to whatever you need to say.” He brushed his thumb against his nose, and I was getting to the point where I was learning when he had thoughts in his head that he wasn’t speaking out loud.

“What is it?”

“It’s not my business, but last night you mentioned that your sister had reached out to you, and you didn’t respond. After hearing what you told me, I’m sure it’s due to a lot of trauma. I can’t imagine what she’s been through, and it’s not my place to do that. But, I do know that if I had a chance to speak with my brother again, even if we were at odds, I’d take it. Life is short. Each day isn’t promised. So, if there is a chance to fix what’s broken, don’t pass it up.”

That sat heavy on my heart as the reality of it all set in. He was right. Each day wasn’t promised, and Sammie had been through a tragic situation. It wasn’t my place to judge her. It was my place to love her—even if it was from a distance.