I stand up suddenly and yank the door open, turning to face Zayden with my arms over my chest. My hair gets in my way and I shove it hard over my shoulder, blinking my salt soaked and sticky contact lenses at Zayden.
“Aw, Smarty-Pants,” he says, and the soft sound of his voice and the adorable way he wears suspenders stuck to his tight jeans makes me crazy. I want to kiss him and punch him both at the same time. “Don't get all weepy again, or I won't be able to—”
“To leave?” I ask as he takes a few steps closer to me and then pauses as Sadie starts to cry from inside the open van. I gesture my hand at the car. “You can't just leave the baby in there,” I say as he studies me with a careful expression and then rakes his fingers through his messy hair. “It's okay that you want to go back to Las Vegas,” I lie, “I would, too, but you've got to just go. Leave me alone, alright. I'll be fine. I always take care of myself, and I always excel. What should make this any different?”
“You know, I'm just a phone call away if you need to talk. You have my number and—”
“I deleted it. Best to make a clean cut,” I tell him as I dash the tears away and then cross my arms over my chest. I guess I'm being melodramatic here, but what else is there to do? I want him to want to stay so fucking badly, but I can't and won't beg for scraps.
“Brooke, I really … I do like you. A lot. I mean, I'm crushing hard here, Smarty-Pants. This isn't easy for me either.”
“You can't or won't try anything with me, but you date girls that you hate. I understand. Zayden, you need to go. If you're not staying, then fucking go.”
I turn and head into the house, expecting him to follow.
When I hear the sound of the minivan starting, I feel the tears start to flow again.
Here I am, alone again. In my sister's house with my sister's kids.
Guess I better get used to it.
Brooke's tears devastate me.
Like, break me into pieces and turn me raw all the way down to the core. What are you doing, man? I ask myself as I head to the airport with four screaming kids and a cluster of barking chihuahuas. I should probably intervene and try to do something about Kinzie and the twins, but I'm all up in my own head and I can't think straight.
When I dropped Grace and Bella off, Brooke wouldn't even come out of her room. As much as my heart wants me to stick around and badger her to come out, I have to leave now or I won't make it to the airport. No, no, hell if I didn't leave when I did, I'd probably never go. I'd move up here and let my condo go into foreclosure and I'd stick around and be Brooke's nanny forever.
“Jesus cocksucking ball fucker,” I mumble, thinking the Daya song that's playing in the background will cover up my colorful expletives.
“Curse jar!” Kinzie screams, just full on belts out like a banshee. I reach up and turn the volume off on the stereo.
“Okay, that's it. I've had enough,” I growl the word out loud enough that Kinzie stops screeching, the twins stop arguing, and even the chihuahuas go quiet. “Your mom and dad are gonna be tired after their trip, got it? I don't want to hear any nonsense or any fighting or crying or yelling. If you want to say something, think of something nice.”
“You stole that from Bambi,” Kinzie accuses, and I toss her a caustic glare in the rearview. A few seconds later, “I don't really think you're going to the H-place.” I almost smile at that one. “And I don't hate you as much now.”
“Good. Because I don't hate you either. Might even love you a little bit, kid. You cool with that?”
She nods at me and I turn the song back on, trying to drown thoughts of Brooke out by interacting with the kids. Even Sadie calms down and stops crying when I start singing about looking pretty with the pop star on my iPod.
The Arcata-Eureka airport is this dinky ass building in the middle of nowhere with one gate and a tiny café that serves as a restaurant. It has like, one flight a day in a shaky old puddle jumper that goes to San Francisco and comes back. That's basically it.
When we get there, it's easy as fuck to find parking because, well, there are like a hundred spaces and pretty much nobody in them. Calling this place an airport would be like calling a garage sale a mall.
Anyway, I'm grateful for it as I roll the van windows down a crack for the dogs and make the older kids put their hands on the stroller.
“On your best behavior or the time wizard will come and get you.”
“What's a time wizard?” Kinzie asks scrunching up her face as we make our way to the front of the building.
“It's a monster made of toothpicks who eats kids that waste time. Now, put on some pretty smiles for your parents, okay? And try not to tell them about the torture chamber.”