Chapter Three
Micah
FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER, LITTLE SUNSHINE’S Daycare has been as much a fixture in our family as any person. I went there. Bailey went there. My mom worked there for a long time, and then I bought it for her, so now she owns it.
I’ve watched this place transform and adapt over the years. It’s grown with the times and with the leadership, but one thing that’s always been the same is the dedication to the kids there. My mom has boxes and boxes of every piece of artwork ever given to her.
Right now, I’m helping her gather a few of those boxes to take home from the closet in her office. A couple of the kids are aging out of the center, as it serves children only up to ten years old, so my mom wants to make them something using their own art.
She tried to convince me not to come, but being around family is what I need right now.
“How was the service, Mi?” she asks once we’re settled in the car.
“It was … a lot.” I sigh. My head is still spinning from Tanya’s letter and everything thrown at Dani and me. “Can I ask you a question about Chi Chi?”
Chi Chi was my aunt Monica. I have no idea where I got that name from.
I started calling her that when I was little and it just stuck.
Mom was distraught when she lost her only sister.
We all were, but the mere mention of her name visibly pierced a hole in my mom’s heart for a long time after.
I was a teenage ball of rage when she died, but my mom was a mass of pure despair.
Now, she says it brings her peace to talk about Chi Chi, but I like to test the waters first.
The orbs of her eyes well with tears. “Of course you can.”
I’ve been thinking about her a lot more since Tanya’s passing. Tanya and Chi Chi would’ve liked each other; they were cut from the same cloth. I have no doubt that they’ve become the best of friends in the afterlife.
“Was there anything you learned about her after she died that surprised you?”
“Hmm, I learned she had terrible taste in dresses.”
“Dresses?” I need to make sure I heard her right, because I think I saw Chi Chi in a dress only once in my life.
“Yep. When I finally found the will to clean out her house, she had a stash of dresses in the back of her closet. I don’t know what she had them for, but every single one of them was hideous.
One of them was literally the color of vomit.
Do you remember when we had pot roast for Easter one year and you threw it up?
You were so disgusted that you could see pieces of beef and carrots in the toilet that you refused to eat anything beef-related for months? It looked like that.”
“That’s … descriptive.” I shiver as she snickers. “And she had never mentioned them to you before?”
“Nope. Why do you ask?”
I tell her about Tanya’s will and the scavenger hunt Dani and I will need to embark on.
“Are you worried about what you’re gonna find out about her?”
“No. Well, yes.” Having to plan the gala and auction is daunting, but I’m confident we can put something together that will make Tanya proud.
Her letter made it sound like what we would learn on this scavenger hunt would tear our worlds apart, and that has me a bit on edge.
Finding out about her cancer when it was already too late was shocking enough.
“Well, let me ask you this. Is there anything you could learn about Tanya that would make you love her less?”
“No.” That’s never been a question.
“Then, you just have to take each discovery as it comes. Most people take their secrets with them to the grave. She’s trusting you to care for them the way you cared for her. Take solace in that.”
I nod along with her. I pull into my parents’ driveway, throwing the car in park before turning to face her. “Thanks, Mom.”
She pats my cheek. “Anytime, Mi. And for the record, when I die I want a parade.”
A shocked laugh escapes me. “Are we talking Macy’s level or the fairgrounds?”
She purses her lips and tilts her head. “Macy’s, of course.” Without another word, she slips out of the car and up to the front door.
Shaking my head, I grab the boxes from the back before heading inside, where I follow the sound of raised voices down the hallway and stumble upon one hell of a scene.
My cousins, Paris and Penelope, are in the living room. Penelope has Paris pinned to the ground with her leg in the air, while Bailey slams her palm on the ground.
Right before her palm hits the carpet a third time, Paris kicks her leg up and swings her body to the side.
“Bullshit!” Penelope screams out.
My dad’s eyes go wide as he looks on from the couch.
Paris sticks her tongue out and her middle finger up. “Told you you couldn’t pin me, bitch.”
“I did pin you, dumb hoe. You just got away,” Penelope chastises.
The shouts from all three ladies increase until Mom shows them she can shout the loudest. “Why are y’all always tearing my house up?!” she demands. “Old as you are,” she mumbles under her breath.
Paris moves to stand, but Penelope swipes Paris’s legs from under her and pushes her shoulder before jumping up.
Dad snorts as he gets up from the couch and wraps me up in a hug and then kisses Mom.
“Gigi, you know I can’t let her show me up,” Penelope says, donning an innocent voice.
They’re only a year apart, and while they’re the very best of friends, they always find something to compete over. Chi Chi always said they got that from their dad, because it definitely didn’t come from her.
Mom turns her nose up and smacks both Penelope and Paris on the butts as she walks past them. Bailey slips her hand in Mom’s and trails behind her to the kitchen.
“What up, Mikey?” Paris greets me.
“Hey, Pee Pee Girls.”
Paris’s nostrils flare and Penelope’s lips turn to a sneer at the childhood nickname they’ve always hated. It’s not my fault their mother gave them both P names. It was too easy.
“And to think, we came over to check on your ass,” Penelope jeers.
I pull her into a bear hug, smacking a kiss on her forehead that she wipes off. “Oh, I thought you came over to fight for your championship.”
She presses her index and middle fingers against my forehead. “My championship ain’t ever been in danger.”
Paris snaps her neck in Penelope’s direction, lips primed to fire back an insult, but the scent of Mom’s leftover homemade cinnamon rolls fill the air. Her nose practically lifts her off the ground.
She rushes over for a quick hug before turning to the kitchen. “Gigi, my neck hurts from that beating I took, I think some dessert would help heal me,” she calls out as she goes.
“This bitch,” Penelope mutters to herself.
“You know she don’t care about shit once she smells my mom’s cooking.”
“True. How are you holding up?” she asks, looping her arm around my waist.
“Uh, you know, I’ve been better, but I’ll be okay.” Tanya said not to feel sad for her, because she was ready to go. But she didn’t say not to be sad for myself, so I’m going to sit in this feeling for a little while longer.
“I know you will.”
We walk into the kitchen to find Paris dancing around in circles with a cinnamon roll in her hands while Bailey records her and Mom does her best to ignore them both.
As Penelope runs into the fold, I feel confident that family is exactly what I needed today.
My thoughts keep drifting to Dani, wondering how she’s holding up. Is she letting anyone be there for her?
I pull out my phone and send her a text. The only reason I have her new number is because Amerie insisted her wedding party have each other’s contact information.
Before her number changed, the proof of our connection was easy to find. It shone through every text, voice note, and emoji. Now, as I start a brand-new text chain with her, the empty screen serves as a stark reminder of how far we’ve fallen.
Me: Hey I know yesterday was a lot. I’m sure I’m not high on your list of confidants but I’m here if you need to talk
The “Delivered” status beneath my text is the only acknowledgment I receive.
Hours later, I’m in the kitchen making popcorn for everyone while Mom and Bailey make an executive decision on what movie we’ll be watching.
The Pee Pee Girls stroll into the kitchen, arm in arm, only separating to stand on either side of me.
Paris locks her arms with me while Penelope rests her head on my chest. The way they move through the world is not like Bailey and me.
They function on a different wavelength, more like twins than anything.
In the thirty years they’ve been in this world together, they’ve never even lived apart, so they are very much an extension of each other.
“What do you two want?” I ask, eyeing them both.
They look between themselves, telepathically communicating who’s going to start. Paris wins. Or loses, depending on how you look at it.
“Well, we were just talking to Bails about OP’s Family Day at the gallery this weekend.”
“Okay?” I ask, uncertain. Spring Hill has hosted the kids of Our Place many times before. They don’t usually have to butter me up for something beforehand.
“And it got us wondering,” Penelope takes over. “If you had reconsidered our offer?”
I remove myself from the cocoon they tried to build around me. “I already gave you my answer.” Reconsideration was never on the table.
About a year ago, they asked me to come on as a sort-of partner at Our Place. My parents are on the board, but they wanted me to have a bigger role. I flat-out refused.
Chi Chi was my best friend and Our Place meant the world to her, but I don’t deserve to have a hand in that. I haven’t earned my place in her legacy.
I thought I had shut this conversation down the first time they broached it. I didn’t think I’d have to endure the look in their eyes when I shattered their perception of me again.
“We know, we just thought—”
I cut Paris off, not wanting to hear it. “No. The answer is still no.” I hold my fist up to my chest, rubbing small circles there until the ache starts to subside.
“Could you tell us why?” Penelope asks.
The ping of the microwave saves me from having to answer them or myself. I grab the popcorn and pour it into the waiting bowl. “That’s something I’ll have to deal with one day.” Probably the day I meet Chi Chi again. “But you don’t. Leave it alone, okay?”
Unwilling to watch the disappointment flood their faces, I turn my back on them.
Later, when I’ve made it home and fallen into my bed, a text chimes on my phone.
Without even looking, I can feel that it’s her.