6. Mom Hugs and Chicken Nuggs
SIX
MOM HUGS AND CHICKEN NUGGS
CLIO
A month has passed since the last noise complaint, and I haven’t suffered any more eviction threats. In fact, since my accident, I’ve hardly seen Noah beyond a quick hello when he’s dropping Auggie off at preschool. How someone so surly can be related to Auggie is beyond me.
Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding Noah at all costs—the injury healed faster than my pride.
After nap time, the kids set off for free play. I see Auggie sitting alone in one of the flexible seating beanbag chairs in the corner, holding a set of toy dinosaurs. Everything looks fine until he wrenches the blue and green external processors off his ears.
I glance around the room to make sure everyone is ok before I join Auggie in his corner. Careful not to startle him, I take the seat at his side, keeping the rest of the class in my eyeline.
A single tear tracks down his round cheek, disappearing under his chin.
I tap his shoulder gently to get his attention, then I sign. “Do you need a hearing break?”
He nods, his bottom lip quivering.
“That’s ok. It gets kind of noisy in here sometimes. Do you need a hug? Sometimes when I’m sad, a hug makes me feel better.”
He eyes me warily for a moment before wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “I miss my daddy,” he says, his voice breaking on the last syllable. Quiet sobs wrack his tiny body, and I run my hand up and down his back.
I know what grief looks like, and it’s written all over Auggie’s face. I understand that burden better than most. It’s a weight no four-year-old should have to bear. I wait for his breathing to even out and let him pull away.
“It’s ok to be sad,” I sign.
He sniffles and hands me a plastic Triceratops.
“This is my favorite dinosaur. How did you guess?”
He responds with a nonchalant shrug.
“What’s your favorite?”
He walks over to the bin and pulls out a Brontosaurus, running his finger along the slope of its long neck. “Good choice, buddy.”
A few minutes pass in companionable silence before he replaces his cochlear implants. “Did you know the Brontosaurus is a herbivore? That means they like to eat plants.”
“That’s right. Can you name a carnivore?”
He finally cracks a smile, his whole face lighting up like nobody’s ever shared his interest before. “That’s easy! T-rex.”
“You’re a smart cookie.”
“I’m not a cookie. I’m Auggie.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re right. How silly of me.”
Quiet footsteps approach, and I turn to find Emmy standing nearby. “Hey, Em. Do you need something?”
“Nope.” She turns her attention to Auggie instead. “Can I play, too?”
He grins, offering her the green Brontosaurus toy.
I stand and step past them. “Here. You can have my seat.”
She slumps into my spot and picks up my discarded Triceratops. I watch them for a few minutes, making certain Auggie’s ok before I make the rounds with the other kids.
Around three o’clock, the parents start arriving to pick up the kids. By four, only Emmy and Auggie are left, which is odd because Emma’s usually here at 3:30 like clockwork.
A quiet rap on the door draws my attention. It’s Carla, the preschool director. She gestures for me to follow her outside the door, staying within eyeline of the kids as they color at one of the tables.
“What’s up?”
“August’s aunt called. Her car broke down outside of Starling Falls. She’s not gonna make it.”
“Did you call his uncle?”
“I did. He asked if you could bring August home today.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He could’ve asked me himself. He has my number. “Isn’t that against policy?”
“Technically speaking, yes, but with Noah’s consent, we can allow it.”
“Ok. Sure. Let him know we’ll be there soon. Callie should be by to pick up Emmy any minute.”
“Perfect. I’ll pass the message along.” She starts to walk away but turns back.
“I suggest you talk to him about being added as an emergency contact for August in case this happens again. It might be best if you disclose your relationship sooner rather than later.” There’s a slight hitch in her brow.
“What? Oh! No. It’s not like that. He’s just my neighbor.”
She taps the side of her nose. “Right. Neighbor.”
Carla disappears around the corner before I can say more, and Callie arrives not a moment too soon. She follows me into the classroom, where Emmy and Auggie are still perfectly content with their boxes of crayons and alphabet coloring sheets.
“Is Emmy ready to go?” she asks with exhaustion written all over her face.
“Twins still not sleeping?”
She sighs. “How ever did you guess?”
I know better than to comment on her appearance, but those dark circles aren’t fooling anyone. “You should take some time off. You’ve been working too much lately on top of taking care of two growing babies. It’s a lot. I remember how it was with Lexi, and that was just one kid.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Maybe I should talk to Janet about cutting back my hours.”
Emmy glances up from her coloring sheet, eyes widening when she sees Callie. “Auntie Kiki! You’re here!”
“I’m here,” Callie says. “Ready to go?”
“Uh huh.” She shoves the crayons back into the box and hops off her chair. “Bye, Auggie.”
Auggie deflates, and in a flat tone, he says, “Bye.”
“I’ll call you later.” Callie scribbles her name on the sign-out sheet before leading Emmy to the row of lockers where her backpack is stored, and then it’s just Auggie and me.
“Ok, Super Auggie. I have a really important mission for you.”
He perks up.
“Can you use your big superhero muscles and help me put all of the chairs on top of the tables?”
“Ok!”
Once the room is reset and ready for the janitorial staff to take over, I turn off the lights and lead Auggie out to his locker. “Miss Clio?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s Aunt Emma?”
“Oh, she had a super important mission of her own, so she asked me to take you home today. Is that alright?”
“Uh huh.” He slings his backpack over one shoulder, struggling to find the other strap. I help him slide it on and hold out my hand.
“Ready?”
He nods and slips his tiny hand into mine.
My car is the only one left in the employee lot. I keep a car seat in the back for the rare occasion when I have to take Emmy home, so I help Auggie into it and secure his buckle.
“All set?”
After he gives me the world’s cutest thumbs up, I shut the door and take my place behind the wheel. As I turn the key in the ignition, my hype girl playlist blares through the speakers. I scramble to turn it down, but it’s too late. Auggie’s already removing his implants.
“Sorry,” I sign, grimacing.
He smiles lazily and rests his head against the side of his car seat.
“I feel you, buddy. I get tired after a long day at school, too.”
I turn back to the front and pull out my phone to text Noah.
Me: I have Auggie. Running by BCHS to pick up Lexi then we’ll head home.
Asshole Landlord: Thumbs up emoji.
Dickhead.
Tucking the phone away, I put the car in drive and navigate the now-familiar streets of downtown Willow Valley.
I’ll never tire of how beautiful it is here.
Everybody knows everybody, and gossip travels at the speed of light, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Nowhere will ever feel like home again, not without Penny, but Willow Valley comes close.
I turn left at the exit sign toward the county line where Bramble County High School sits between Willow Valley and Starling Falls, following the cliffs until we’re surrounded by trees on both sides. Lexi should be getting out of her One Act after-school program any minute.
Sure enough, as I pull into the parking lot behind a long line of cars, Lexi comes out of the massive double doors, waving goodbye to a group of friends. She jogs to the car and leans into the open window.
“Who’s the stray?” she asks, nodding toward Auggie.
I wave to get his attention, then sign and speak at the same time. “Lexi, this is Auggie. Noah’s nephew. He’s hitching a ride home with us.”
He gives her a timid wave.
“Guess I’m riding in the back!” she says, rounding to the opposite side of the car.
She dumps her backpack onto the floorboard and slides in next to Auggie.
“Hi. I’m Lexi.” She forms the letter L next to her right cheek, where she has a dimple that matches mine, then sweeps it across her cheek with a smile.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her use her sign name since Penny passed, and my heart warms at the sight.
Only someone in the Deaf community can give you a sign name.
Auggie beams at her, all signs of exhaustion gone in a blink. “I like your shirt.”
She glances at the neon tie-dye BCHS T-shirt we made for freshman orientation. “Thanks! I made it. Well, kind of. Mom helped me.”
He glances at me quizzically and puts his ears back on. “Miss Clio?”
“Yeah. She’s my mom.”
One side of his mouth quirks up into a small smile. “I like your mom.”
Lexi scrunches her nose at me. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”
I pull out my phone and point it at her. “Say that again. I want it on record for when you change your mind later.”
She sticks out her tongue and rolls her eyes. “She’s really annoying, too.”
I put the car in drive and pull away from the curb. “What was your high/low of the day?”
It’s a thing we’ve been doing for years. Penny started it when Lexi was in Kindergarten. We’d talk about the highs and lows of the day and problem-solve the lows. Sometimes there was no solution to be found, but it always helped to talk it out. These little traditions help me keep her memory alive.
“What’s that mean?” Auggie asks.
“High low?” Lexi says. “It’s the best part of your day and the worst part of your day.”
I glance in the rearview at Auggie, his expression contemplative. After a short silence, he finally says, “I don’t get it.”
I flick the turn signal and pull onto the interstate. “Tell us yours, Lex. Maybe that’ll help.”
“Ok. So, my high was when we had a pizza party in math class.”
“I like pizza,” Auggie says.
“And my low was when I broke my favorite pencil, and that made me sad. Your turn.”
“I gots sad today, but then Miss Clio gave me a hug, and it made me feel better. Maybe Miss Clio can give you a hug, too. She gives really good hugs.”
“There’s nothing better than a hug from your mom when you’re sad.”
Shit.
I see the disaster coming from a mile away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My grip on the steering wheel tightens. My throat constricts.
Auggie sniffles. “I don’t have a mom.”
It takes everything in me not to pull over onto the side of the road and give him one of my really good mom hugs, but I don’t have to because Lexi is right there without hesitation.
I hear the sound of her buckle unlatching as she moves into the middle seat and secures that one instead. When I look back in the rearview again, she’s sliding her hand into his and squeezing.
“Your Uncle Noah’s pretty great, too,” she says.
I hold back my snort. Now’s not the time to argue the matter.
“Uh huh. He lets me have chicken for breakfast,” he replies.
“Score!” Lexi holds up her hand for a high five, and Auggie reciprocates. “Now I want nuggs. Can we stop and get some?”
“I don’t see why not. Let me text Noah and ask him.”
“Please please please,” Auggie says.
His begging is adorable. I miss when Lexi was his age. She was a little spitfire. Still is, but now she’s taller than me and has an attitude to match mine.
I pull up to the fast-food place and park in the closest spot.
Me: Do you mind if we stop for nuggets?
Asshole Landlord: Did Auggie put you up to this?
Me: Yes. I’m being held hostage. Send help.
Asshole Landlord: Don’t let him have ketchup. It’ll be all over your car.
Me: Noted. Want me to bring you anything?
Asshole Landlord: Just the kid.
Wow. That’s the most we’ve interacted without a thinly veiled insult, or an overt one, for that matter. I’ll take that as a win. “Good news! Noah said we can get nuggs.”
“Yes!” Auggie shouts.
They high-five again, smiling from ear to ear. I can’t help but match them as I pull up to the drive-through speaker and request a family-size order of chicken nuggets with an assortment of dipping sauces. I’m not afraid of a little mess; this car has seen some shit over the years.
Between Auggie and Lexi, they manage to scarf down at least twenty nuggets, and by the time I pull into my parking spot behind Lunar Ink, Auggie’s eyes are glazed over, and his face is covered in a sticky layer of ketchup.
I grab a pack of wet wipes from the glove box and hand them to Lexi. “Mind wiping away the evidence?”
Auggie winces and squirms as she wipes his face.
She laughs. “Chill, dude. I almost got it.” She keeps wiping until every smudge is gone, then tosses the wipe into the fast-food bag. “There. All done.”
She slides out of the car and helps Auggie out of his seat, taking his hand as he lands on the pavement. They chatter all the way to the door, and she holds it open for him, pausing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the apartments.
Lexi’s mouth pulls into a mischievous grin. “Last one to the top is the rotten egg!”
Auggie rushes up the stairs, and Lexi lets him have a head start.
The scene plays out like a long-forgotten dream, and my chest aches at the reminder of a future I’ll never have. Lexi would’ve been the best big sister.
I take the steps slowly, not even trying to catch up to them.
“You can’t get me,” Auggie chants.
When I reach the landing, I double over, feigning shortness of breath. “You’re too fast for me, Super Auggie.”
The door to my left opens, and Noah appears on the threshold, his muscled biceps on full display and a scowl firmly in place. Dammit. I hate how fucking sexy he is.