Chapter 5
Rory
Days with Claire are my favorite. I hate that it’s necessary as often as it is, but I’m also not going to complain about more time with this wonderful girl. It’s with that thought that I finally drag myself out of bed. It’s not a bad brain day, but it’s not exactly a good one either. There’s some heaviness, but I’ll be able to function without faking most of it.
Glancing at the clock, I see my mom should be here in a bit to drop her off, so I get myself showered and dressed, putting my hair in its usual braid. I unlock the door and find some breakfast cereal to start the day right. Nothing like a shot of sugar from a cartoon animal to get me going. Shortly after I finish putting my breakfast bowl in the sink, I hear a knock at the door. Part of me wishes I lived in a building where you have to buzz people in, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“It’s open!” I call out.
My mom opens the door, Claire hot on her heels. She drops her bag on the couch and flops with a dramatic sigh that rivals a teenager’s.
“Rory, you need to lock your door,” my mom says by way of greeting.
“Good to see you too, Mom.”
“I mean it, young lady. Anyone could have come walking in!”
“I know, Mom, but I live on the third floor, and it was locked until about ten minutes ago because I knew you were coming,” I explain with what I hope is patience.
“Well…” She sniffs.
“Thanks for bringing Claire over. What time should I have her back?”
“Never!” Claire declares, drama still going strong.
“Any time after dinner. Maybe seven so she has time to do her homework .” My mom looks at Claire as she finishes her sentence.
Claire, to her credit, doesn’t even respond. Good for her.
“Okay, Mom, bye, love you,” I tell her, trying to shoo her out the door.
“Sure, just kick me out,” she grumbles.
“You have plans!”
“That’s beside the point,” she says, still sounding put out.
“Have fun,” I tell her and close the door on her, making sure I flip the deadbolt lock extra hard so she hears it.
I flop on the couch next to Claire. “How are you doing, kiddo?”
“Fine. Don’t call me kiddo,” she says.
“Okay, kiddie,” I say in retaliation.
“Not better,” she grumbles.
“I’ll work on it, tyke.”
She rolls her eyes at a tenth grade level, and I cackle. We get to work on our “girl day” and promptly start making our baked goods.
Several hours later, we have brownies and cookies galore on the coffee table in the living room and nail polish bottles everywhere. I’m trying to squish my toes into those little separator things and Claire takes pity on me.
“Aunt Rory, you are hopeless.”
“I just like to give you something to do,” I say, leaning back and relaxing as she slips the spreader in easily.
“What color do you want?”
“Oh I can paint my own, squirt, you don’t have to.”
“One, squirt is not an option either. Two, I know, but I’m gonna make you do mine as payment.”
“Fair enough.” I laugh. “Let’s go with purple.”
I’m repaying the toenail painting favor with my legs in a weird, contorted position so I don’t fuck up the paint, when I hear a heavy sigh. I look up at Claire, a question in my gaze. She’s not looking, though. She’s watching whatever movie we have on with a happy family cheesy ending.
“What’s up, rugrat?” I ask her
“Why don’t my parents want me?” she asks.
Well, fuck, I was not planning on this conversation today. I feign nonchalance as I finish up her last couple of toes. Putting the nail polish back, I take a moment to look her in the eye, and pause the movie.
“Parents are confusing. I wish I had a good answer about why yours aren’t here, but I don’t. What I do know is that you are one amazing kid, and they messed up big time when they chose to leave you and never know you. I will take you in my life every day. I am not going anywhere, okay?”
Claire frowns. “Isn’t my dad your brother, though? Grandma sometimes says mean things when she thinks I can’t hear.”
“Yeah, he is, but he left a long time ago. Your dad didn’t get along with Grandma and Grandpa very well, and he’s so much older than me that we never bonded. So, when he got done with high school, he just left.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is, but you know what? I got you from it and I love you like crazy, so it worked out, huh?”
She gives me a small smile. “I guess so. I’m glad I have you, Aunt Rory.”
“I’ll fix that, bambina. Don’t worry.”
She giggles. “Bambina?”
“Yeah, it’s Italian.”
“We’re not Italian,” she says in that practical kid voice.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say with a wave of a hand. “Shall we compete in the game of life or death?”
She ponders, tapping her finger on her chin. “Only if you feel like dying,” she challenges with a small smile.
“Them’s fightin’ words,” I warn her as I turn on the Nintendo Switch.
We proceed to spend several hours playing Mario Kart , and I only have to apologize twice for what I say when she throws a blue shell. Not bad for me, honestly. She’s almost as bad, which I refuse to accept responsibility for, and I just give her the side-eye if she gets too animated. By the time I glance at a clock again, it’s almost 4:30 and I realize we snacked our way through the day. This is why I don’t have kids. If I don’t wake up at one hundred percent, then I forget meals and graze all day. It’s too hard to cook otherwise.
“We should get some food in you, or your grandma’s gonna chew me a new asshole,” I tell her.
“Are you planning to cook?” Claire asks with hesitation.
“You don’t blink an eye when I swear, but you protest to my cooking?” I ask her in disbelief.
“Aunt Rory, your swearing isn’t new, and your cooking never turns out how you want.”
“Damn you’re brutal. I’m a proud aunt, sprout.”
We get all the sweets put away, and while she’s collecting her nail polish to go in her bag, I pack up some sweets for her to bring home. I slip those into her bag with the nail polish before getting my shoes on and grabbing my purse.
“Diner?” I ask her.
Her eyes light up. “Sundaes?”
“Duh, but only if you eat all your french fries,” I order.
“You’re so weird.” She giggles and takes my hand as I close the door behind us.
Squeezing her hand twice, we descend the stairs and hop into the car. The diner is close to my apartment, and it’s one of those old-style ones with a U-shaped counter and booths lining the windows along the walls. It gets steady traffic, but I’ve never seen it packed, which is what I like about it. I want them to stay in business, but I don’t want to contend with others for a spot.
As we walk in, I notice a tall man sitting at the counter in a suit, his head bent over his phone, a coffee sitting next to him.
Who the hell drinks coffee at dinnertime? Weirdo.
Claire gasps next to me, and when I look down at her, she’s staring at counter dude. “Hey!” she says too loudly.
His head comes up, and he looks over, confused, and my heart about stops. It’s the Pool God. No idea what someone like him is doing at this diner, but he looks delicious in his suit. Now that I can see his eyes, up close, they are one of the brightest shades of blue I have ever seen. His hair is messy styled but still stylish, you can tell he puts a little work into it.
He looked good in his small swimsuit, but this man can rock a suit too it seems. He looks way out of my league, but I’m still going to enjoy the eye candy. As I take in his presence, the world seems to narrow on just him. Pool God looks around, then points to himself when he doesn’t see anyone nearby him.
“Yeah, you! We saw you at the pool!” she continues, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“And this is why kids should be seen and not heard,” I say, and herd her towards a booth. “So sorry to bother you.”
His mouth pulls up in a small smile and he lifts a hand in acknowledgement. For an instant, I think I see recognition in his face, but it passes quickly, and he goes back to his coffee. A small part of me is disappointed that he doesn’t remember me, but it’s not like he should. We only saw each other in passing; there’s no way he’d remember me. Who knows if he even saw me as it is? I’m probably making the whole thing up.
“I will kill you!” I whisper to her. “I’m going to show up at your school with my underwear outside my clothes and follow you around all day long shouting all your secrets!”
She looks me dead in the eye, and I swear this child makes me so damn proud when she responds deadpan. “You need a life.”
She opens her menu and hides behind it, looking at the food. I yank my own menu up, still perturbed with her, but I can’t help glancing over at the counter. My teeth chew at my lower lip as I appreciate how gorgeous he is. Pool God glances up and looks in my direction, catching me looking. My cheeks flush and I whip my attention back to my menu.
“Don’t be so obvious.”
“What? I’m not doing anything,” I hiss at her.
“Aunt Rory, you’re basically staring at him,” she counters.
“How do you even know what being obvious is? You’re ten. You don’t date. If you do date, I’m gonna kill him. What’s his name? He’s dead.”
She giggles. “Aunt Rory!”
“I mean it. No boy’s good enough for you. Or girl. Is it a girl? She’s dead. What’s her name?”
The waitress takes our order, and we fall back into our easy banter. She may only be ten, but this girl has grown up way too fast, so I make sure to make her laugh as much as I can. I meant what I told her earlier. My brother and his stupid wife are missing out on her and they’re going to kick themselves if they ever figure it out. They’re on business trips almost every weekend and in the office late into the evening. More time for me, and I’ll take all I can get.
I pull into my mom’s driveway, and my exhaustion hits suddenly. Feeling the heaviness creep back in, I realize I used up all my spoons during the day, especially at the diner when trying to make Claire laugh. Spending time with her is worth it, though. It’s gonna be a rough evening, but I make it a point to try to push the depression away when I’m with Claire. I’m not ashamed of it, but she’s got enough problems. She doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything. I’ll tell her if she asks when she’s older.
The door to my mom’s house opens right into the living room, so when I swing it open, she’s right there in a chair. She looks up as we move into the room fully and I close the front door. Her eyes shrewdly assess the two of us, and I mentally brace myself for whatever she’s going to throw at me when Claire leaves the room.
“Hey Grandma,” Claire says and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey baby,” my mom says gently. “Why don’t you go get started on some homework?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding put out. “Bye, Aunt Rory. Thanks for the sundae!”
“Anytime, honey buns,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes as she walks away, and the moment she’s out of sight, I let myself deflate. The smile falls from my face and my shoulders slump. I can feel all the physical work I put into standing upright start to slide right out of me. I don’t fall to the floor, but it would be easy to let myself.
My mom scoffs and stands up. She doesn’t move closer to me, but she puts her hands on her hips. Her lips are drawn in a thin line and her gaze peruses me from head to foot, assessing me and finding me wanting.
“Rory, what are you doing?”
“Standing here? Wishing I left already?”
“You need to buck up and stop with this,” she says, waving her hand at me.
“Stop with what?” I ask her, hoping she’s not going down the road I know she’s about to go down.
“This whole depression thing, honey, I love you, but it’s not a good look. You have nothing to be depressed about,” she insists. “Do you have to look so dejected? Smile more.”
“Yeah, smiling more is one hundred percent the solution to all my problems.”
“I mean it. If you look happier, you’ll be happier.”
“God Mom, if I could shoot rainbows out my ass and sunshine from my mouth, I would! Most days it’s hard enough for me to function, let alone be a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. Sorry I’m not living up to your standards.”
“You just need to try harder, honey. You used to smile so much as a kid.”
“Yeah, well that was before crippling depression kicked in, Mom. Sorry that I’m not enough for you anymore.”
“You should talk to Nathan. You always seemed so happy with him.”
I roll my eyes and leave. There’s no point in continuing the conversation. Sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, I put my hands on the wheel and get sucked into a memory.
My mom laughs, a light giggle that annoys the shit out of me, but I ignore it, focused on the finishing touches of the dessert in front of me. I want this to be good. I did a practice trial last week, and he didn’t think it was very good, so this time I’m making it perfect. Once I put the finishing touches on the decorations, I stand up and look at my cake, pleased with the outcome. I piped rosettes around the top edge, added sprinkles on the top in the middle, and did some delicate piping surrounding the cake.
“Oh E, you finished the cake,” he comments, looking over at me.
“Yeah!” I smile. “I think it looks good.”
“It looks as good as you can get it,” he says.
I feel the swoop of disappointment in my stomach, but leave my smile firmly in place. Of course he’s not pleased. I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe I should look into other desserts.
“She does put a lot of work into her cakes,” my mom says, oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t like it.
When we sit at the table, he loads up my plate with food and sets it in front of me.
“Thanks,” I tell him, feeling special.
“Of course, E.” He smiles back and me and grabs his own plate, then sits down.
“Remind me again why you call her E?” my dad asks.
Dad’s only met him once or twice. He works as a trucker, so he’s gone a lot, driving around the country.
“I shortened it from Eos,” he explains. “Aurora wasn’t special enough to fit her. She needs something otherworldly. Eos fit.”
My mom dotes over how sweet that is, and normally I would think it is too, but I can see the warning for what it is. I’m not special enough or good enough and I need to try harder. My dad just grunts and looks back at his food. I spear a piece of meat with my fork and slice a piece off to eat.
“Careful honey, there’s a lot of food there and you know we’re trying to cut back,” he says, watching me eat.
“Oh, of course, babe. I’ll make sure I keep an eye on it,” I tell him.
“How considerate of you to keep each other accountable!” my mom exclaims. “It’s good that Rory has you.”
I shake my head to get out of it. My mom may have loved him, and I thought I did, but he is a toxin that I’m glad I got rid of.