35 #2
“Luna Aldridge!” A girl who shared the same blue eyes as Kieran, paired with short, curly brunette hair, gasped.
It was immediately obvious that she was Mila.
She also happened to have a toddler in her arms, making gurgling noises.
Then two identical twins with matching long brunette hair, who looked to be nine or ten, ran in behind her.
“Here we go,” Kieran sighed.
“You’re the tennis player!” one of the twins inhaled.
“Oh my God, you’re Luna Aldridge,” Mila repeated.
“She heard you the first time when you blew out our eardrums, Mila,” he pointed out. “Give me Drusilla.”
Kieran took the young girl out of his sister’s arms and bounced her. “Hi, Dru Dru.” His nose scrunched, and he nuzzled his face in her neck. She giggled.
More footsteps came, and suddenly, there was a girl with cotton candy blue hair beside Mila, looking at me with eyes as alert as an owl’s. “Holy shit, you’re Luna Aldridge.”
Kieran stepped in between all of us, bouncing Drusilla.
“Luna, this is my sister Mila.” He pointed to Mila, whose mouth was still open.
I took a few steps forward to shake her hand, seeing as she was in no condition to do anything more.
“This is my sister’s girlfriend, Anica.” He gestured to the girl with the blue hair.
I shook her hand as well, feeling like a US ambassador.
“And these are the neighbor’s twins, Isabella and Isla, and their baby sister Drusilla.
Rosco is somewhere,” he said, looking around the room.
“Rosco, no!” Isabella—or Isla—screamed. A dog—Rosco—ran into the room with bread in his mouth.
“You left food on the table,” Kieran guessed, looking at his sister.
“No, I left Franny in charge of that,” Mila argued.
“And where is Franny?” he asked.
“Obviously not with the food,” she grumbled.
“Just take the dog outside. Anica, can you make sure Franny is actually in the house? Girls, help Anica. While you look, I’ll make you a new sandwich, Isla.
Luna, you can follow me. Mila and Anica, stop staring at her like that,” he ordered, taking my hand and guiding me to the kitchen with his only free arm.
The kitchen was made of sunset-colored floor tiles, a long countertop, and a circular kitchen table that faced the ocean.
Before I could glance at the view any longer, Kieran began opening cabinets.
“Why don’t you let me help?” I commented.
“Because I’ve dragged you all the way out here. I’m not making you babysit on top of that.” He spoke without turning, opening another cabinet with Drusilla in his arms, grabbing a plate.
When he reached for silverware, I stopped the motion, putting my hand over his. Finally, he looked at me.
“What type of sandwich?” I asked.
“You’re stubborn.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘helpful.’ Now sit down.”
He grumbled but sat. “Peanut butter and jelly. She likes them in triangles.”
I opened the fridge, in search of jelly, and started on the sandwich that would only take a second. “You know a lot about them.”
“My mom is really close with everyone in the neighborhood, as she confessed earlier. I usually see all of their kids on my visits.”
“How often do you visit?”
“As much as I can. Recently it’s only been every three or four months. It depends on the movie, where we’re shooting. With the press tour, I haven’t visited since March. The last time I saw this one, she didn’t even have teeth.” He held Drusilla up in the air. She giggled, looking down at him.
“I’m soooo hungry,” Isla sang, walking into the kitchen. She stopped short when she spotted where I put the sandwich on the table. She cheered, clutching the PB he’s a workaholic.
Not that I’m much better, but most of our memories come from childhood now.
And my father, he’s out exploring the world, focusing on business ventures.
He seems happy. That makes me happy. I just miss that fullness that comes with family.
The hectic kitchen, coats by the door, grocery lists on the fridge, arguments at dinner that end in laughter.
I can see how much they love you, how much you make them laugh. ”
I stopped short again to pick up another shell, one that looked like a mini conch. “I don’t understand why you never told me where you were from, or your last name?”
“I do a lot of it to protect my family. Or at least, I thought I had been. Recently, it seems more to do with keeping my father pleased than anything.”
“He doesn’t appear very pleased.”
“He wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t until I told him that I wasn’t taking over the family business. The fact that I went into something like acting made it so much worse.”
“I don’t understand. You’re the pinnacle of a successful actor.”
“I sometimes wonder if that makes it worse. As if he thinks I’m too good for the family now. That I’m betraying the work he’s done to support us by living somewhere else and entertaining a career like acting. He looks down upon it because it doesn’t require a degree or real talent—his words.”