Chapter Thirty-Five
Bee
I walked into our townhouse and was immediately greeted by the most amazing smell: chocolate. I couldn’t think of anything better than ending one of my most grueling workouts with a sweet treat, and all I could do was hope Nola’s sister was a better sharer than her older sister.
“Hi Bee!” The teenager peeked her head from around the wall to greet me.
“Olive, you should stay here forever, I’ve never gotten a more pleasant greeting coming home.”
“This is me choosing to be the bigger person and ignore that dig,” Nola commented.
“And thank you for being so brave.” I mocked sympathy. “But enough chit chat, what’s that heavenly smell?”
“Olive is running a baking empire,” Nola mumbled, eyes fixed on one of my favorite reality tv franchises. I recognized immediately that it was episode five of the first season. Nola had started the franchise from the beginning.
And she was enraptured by it.
“I’m currently working on how I can schmooze my counselor into squeezing me into the AP African American class next year,” Olive announced as I watched her sprinkle powdered sugar on top of the baking pan.
“My dad does say the fastest way to get someone to listen is through their stomach.” I finally dropped my bag at the foot of the stairs and peeled off my sweatshirt, leaving me in just my sweatpants and athletic-cropped tank top.
“Then why haven’t you listened to me yet?” Nola turned her head to look at me then back at the television, except I watched her nearly break her neck at the rapid speed she did a double take at me. She cleared her throat and faced the tv again, rubbing the back of her neck.
We hadn’t had time alone since our night on the couch, and I wanted to give her space. Olive was her priority, and if the only time we had with each other were stolen moments in the middle of the night, I’d take that.
“Yogurt and grains are far from an extravagant meal, Young.” I picked up my phone to check my face, making sure I didn’t have a booger or dried smoothie on it.
“Do you want to try a brownie?” Olive offered, and even if she wasn’t a teenager I was desperately trying to appear cool and chill in front of, I would’ve accepted her offer.
It’d been so long since I’d had to try to get a kid to like me.
She was wearing the apron I got her, and it was taking self-restraint to not squeal over the gift acceptance.
“Thanks, girl,” I mumbled as I greedily shoved half the brownie in my mouth. The rich, decadent chocolate immediately melted in my mouth. I’d probably be floating to another planet if I wasn’t distracted by a crunch in my mouth. “Quick question, though. What’s in this?”
“The usual for a chocolate fudge walnut brownie.”
Oh.
“Walnuts?” I questioned dragging the word out just to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
“Mhm!” Olive confirmed, waiting to hear what I think.
“These are amazing…minus the part where I’m allergic to walnuts.” I cringed, swallowing the dessert that I knew would cause a problem within the hour.
Nola whipped her head from the television again. Her eyes were squinted in suspicion, her jaw clenched because she was definitely thinking I was fucking with her baby sister. “That’s not funny, Bee.”
“I’m not being funny…”
In the corner of my eye, I saw Olive go wide-eyed. Between her little gasp and Nola’s eyes growing to the size of saucers, I already felt both of the Young sisters’ panic.
“I’m going to need everyone to relax. Yes, I’m allergic to walnuts. No, I will not die.”
“Die?!” Olive shrieked.
“I said I won’t!” I cleared my throat. I casually, with no panic at all, tried to look for a water to drink, but the only glass nearby was by Nola on the coffee table. “My voice is going to start getting deeper. My tongue will be itchy. That’s it. I promise.” I raised my hand in a Scout’s Honor.
“Oh em gee, Bee, I am so sorry! Nola said you weren’t allergic to anything, so I thought I had free rein!”
“Because she told me she wasn’t allergic to anything.” Nola pointed in my direction as I cleared my throat again.
“It’s really not a big deal! I don’t mention it at restaurants because it’s totally fine. I honestly didn’t think people still paired walnuts and chocolate.” I shrugged, slightly aware of the raspiness my voice is starting to take on.
“Bee, everyone still pairs walnuts and chocolates!” Nola yelled.
“Well, so I’ve noticed!” I yelled back.
However we both snapped back to the kitchen island when we heard sniffles. Olive was still at the counter, apron on, clutching tight to the ladle dripping in chocolate. The tip of her nose was red as her big eyes watered and tears threatened to spill from her lashes.
I rushed over as if she was my own to take care of.
“Hey, hey. I promise I’m alright.”
“But your vo—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” My voice was deeper and crinkling. Like I was a smoker who hadn’t gone a day without a cigarette. “I’m going to go upstairs and I’m going to take some allergy meds. It works all the time I promise.”
“You promise?”
“Yes! I don’t have an epipen because my allergy isn’t bad. I was being a silly adult and not a serious one like your sister.” I winked, hoping to get a smile on the little Young’s face.
The right side of her mouth cracked with a lopsided smile. Yes.
“Now, please enjoy your delicious dessert while I run upstairs. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Maybe your sister will let us watch that reality show of hers when I’m back.”
I could barely shut the door to my bedroom before Nola slipped inside, her panicked face an easy tell, her forehead practically touching her hairline.
“Bee,” she whispered, significantly more gentle with me than she had been downstairs.
“I literally have this under control!” I replied.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re allergic?”
“To make sure you didn’t try to slowly poison and kill me whilst making it look like an accident,” I admitted with a straight face.
“You watch too much investigative television.”
“Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready,” I mumbled as I stepped into my attached bathroom to look under the cabinet. “Celeste had a scary phase when she was eight. Very much child possessed, and not in the cute way. Too many scary movies, too many threats.”
I was trying to be very normal at the fact that Nola was in my bedroom. Yes, we’d been getting more comfortable, confessing deep feelings and walking down memory lane, but we also hadn’t talked about what that talking meant.
The last time Nola was in my room, we were talking about never touching each other again in the name of work. Then we;d kissed each other like we both meant it. Like we could do it in public, in front of our families and friends. Maybe we could have that convo after I proved I wouldn’t die.
I found my dwindling stash of allergy pills and dumped two in my hand. “Fuck these are drowsy, I’m all out of daytime.” My voice was completely raspy and gross. The sound made Nola stop the pacing across my room I was trying to ignore.
“Well, does it really matter when you sound like…” She waved her hand at me.
“The sexiest grandma alive?” I finished for her.
“Brittney, please just take them.” I stared at my former arch nemesis, who looked at me with real concern. If I didn’t take this drowsy allergy pill, she’d shove it down my throat herself.
Her concern was probably because her sister was here, and what child wanted to know she’d sent an adult to the hospital over a walnut. But I was still thrown that Nola cared about my wellbeing right now.
“Please,” she pleaded as we stared at each other.
“But I won’t be able to watch tv with you guys.” I gave a weak but very real middle child excuse. My scratchy throat grated my ears.
Nola rolled her eyes “We’ll resume tomorrow.”
I didn’t know why we were talking to each other like we were both fragile and sensitive, but that was exactly how I was feeling. Like at any second, this illusion of a truce or compassion would fizzle up and it’d all be a dream.
I didn’t realize how much I would like this dream.
As the middle child, I was always used to being overlooked, even if mostly unintentional. In a family of seven, I could only guarantee a reaction when I was able to keep everyone on their toes.
I threw the pills back and lowered my head to the sink to lap up the faucet water like a dog.
“What the hell…” Nola laughed in disbelief.
I popped up from the sink and wiped my wet mouth. I think I might’ve broken Nola, because she couldn’t stop staring at the sink and my mouth. “I am extremely resourceful.”
“I can’t take you seriously when you sound like that.”
“What? Overwhelmingly hot?”
“Like your throat might close up,” She remarked seriously, making me feel fragile again.
I turned away from her, splashing water on my face to avoid her gaze.
“This stuff is pretty fast acting, so I’ll be out for the rest of the night. But let me go show Olive I’m okay.”
Nola listened to me with her head tilted like a dog trying to understand English. She was stuck like that until I moved forward and she cleared her throat.
“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks for that.”
I shrugged. “No worries, this may surprise you, but I am capable of being a serious big sister.”
We headed back downstairs to show Olive I was indeed alive and well, but as we talked I walked over to the lone water glass and guzzled it down while the teenager hugged me tightly.
“I’m gonna go knock out, but have fun tonight.” I rubbed her shoulder, still in awe that I made such a huge impression on Nola’s sister in forty-eight hours. A new record for me.
I was heading back upstairs when I heard Nola’s voice. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”
“No worries.” I shook my head. “I’m a big girl.”
I was a stupid girl, was what I was. Somehow in my drug-fueled haze I woke up around eight at night, unable to remember what time I’d gone to bed.
I had cotton mouth, but hadn’t filled a glass of water—or had I? My bathroom light was on, but I hadn’t left my light on—or had I?
God, I was a disaster.
I was possibly hallucinating, because I felt a glass magically appear in my hand. Warm fingers grazed mine as I took it, but I was too thirsty to react to a phantom hand giving me something I desperately needed. I chugged the water.
“Thank you,” I mumbled to the ghost, my throat possibly not as raspy as it was before I went to bed.
“I’ll get you more. Go back to bed.” The ghost, who sounded awfully a lot like Nola, commanded.
“Bossy,” I quipped as I turned back into my soft duvet and sheets.
At some point, I heard my door shut, a clink on my night stand and shuffling on the carpeted floor. The presence of someone giving me enough comfort to drift back to sleep.