But I was in hell.
My hell was due to three reasons. Drinking too many margaritas the night before. Staying up until four in the morning talking to my sister. And the fact she’d firmly avoided any chat about Perry, but I’d spied she’d obviously loaded up her car to the gills and brought it all to my house, mostly Brooks’s stuff.
I didn’t have a kid and I knew when you had a baby you didn’t have the luxury to travel light.
But you didn’t have to travel like she’d done to spend a few days off with her sister.
She had a portable crib, a portable high chair, a ton of his clothes (and hers by the way), several bags of diapers, wipes and the rest, what had to be every toy he owned and enough food to last a month.
So as we wandered I was tired, hungover and very worried, and to top that off, the sun was shining bright. The day was the warmest we’d had that year so far, and all I felt like doing was lying down and taking a nap or shaking my sister and demanding she tell me what was happening.
But I knew my sister. She wasn’t one to hold things in forever, she shared when it was her time. I just had to wait it out.
I didn’t like it but it was my only choice.
“How about here?” I asked, motioning to a wedge of grass shaded by a large tree, the surrounding areas quickly being taken up by other festival goers.
“Works for me,” Addie replied, looking rested and alert, something I found annoying but then she was a mom and she was a waitress at a high-end restaurant. She was used to late hours and lost sleep and being run off her feet.
I dumped the basket I was carrying that had napkins, plastic cups, real forks, spoons, knives, wet wipes, treats for Brooks and a bottle of sunscreen for touch ups, and I slid the plaid blanket out of the handles, unfolded it and flicked it out to lay it on the grass.
“I can’t believe you have a picnic basket like that,” Addie remarked.
I looked at the double door basket with its pink and white gingham lining rimming the edges then at my sister. “I got it at a garage sale for twenty-five cents. It was dirty but in perfect condition. Except I had to replace the lining, and that material I bought at a yard sale for five whole cents.”
She fell to her knees on the blanket and twisted to a sleepy Brooks in his stroller at its edge, saying, “That’s my Iz. If there’s a deal or a steal, she’ll find it.”
I said nothing because I considered that a high compliment.
Addie looked to me. “Except for dog food, cat food and bird seed, you ever pay full price for anything?”
“No,” I answered, and I had no problems with that either.
“Right,” she muttered, turning back to Brooks and pulling him out of his stroller, still speaking. “I blame Dad for a lot of things and that’s one of them.”
“Sorry?” I asked.
She set Brooks on the blanket and he immediately but drowsily crawled to me so I dropped to my knees so when he reached me, he could have me.
“You always wanted things. That’s who you are and that’s cool because pretty much everyone is like that. Mom wanted peace on earth and a fresh manicure every other week. I wanted him,” she motioned to Brooks, “and more like him. You wanted things.”
“I didn’t want things,” I said, feeling stung.
“You liked clothes and you liked shoes and you liked purses and hair stuff and your space just so. Mom bought that plastic wineglass for you that birthday and I swear, for months, you never drank out of anything but that.”
“I was a little girl and it was fancy,” I explained.
Her eyes locked to mine. “We’re allowed to want things and not only earn them and work for them and fight for them, but have someone maybe once in a while give them to us because they love us and they want us to have what we want.”
I stayed silent and held her gaze, letting her get it out.
She then got more of it out.
“Mom would have lassoed the moon and brought it down to us if it was in her power, and we wanted it. I’m not surprised she died so young. I think of it a lot, every day, and I think that cancer she had was Dad and it was always with her even before they found it, eating away at her every time she couldn’t give us something. Every time she had to do without so we could have stuff we just plain needed, not wanted, needed. She had to stomach so much of that, it’s not surprising it burned through her, wasted her away.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” I whispered, lifting up Brooks and holding him tight to me but never taking my eyes off my sister.
She glanced at Brooks in my arms before looking away and declaring, “I’m getting souvlaki.”
“I’ll go with you.”
She turned back to me. “You stay. Save our place.”
“The Greek tent isn’t in Africa. We won’t be gone a week. Our stuff will be okay here.”
“Iz, I hate to break this to you,” she started, swinging out an arm, “but bad stuff, really bad stuff, happens. Even in Mayberry.”
I didn’t think of Matlock as Mayberry.
With the gazebo in the square and the cute shops and handsome buildings with their bright bunting all around it, I thought it looked more like Stars Hollow.
“No one is going to take an old picnic basket,” I told her.
“People are capable of anything. They don’t know you cleaned it up and lined that picnic basket yourself, and if you had to replace it with something new you couldn’t, because you have horses to feed. They just want it so they’ll take it and they don’t think for a second that it means something to someone else and it’s not theirs to have in the first place.”
“Addie—”
“And anyway, I love him more than my life but it wouldn’t suck to take a walk in the sun and get some souvlaki without pushing my boy in front of me.”
I knew she had very little of that. She had a neighbor who ran a small daycare center in her house who also loved Addie and Brooks, so she did a lot of extra watching him because Perry couldn’t be bothered to do it. Even when he wasn’t working.
But if Addie wasn’t working, anything that had anything to do with taking care of Brooks was all on my sister.
I held her boy closer. “Brooks and I’ll stay here.”
“That’s my Izzy,” she murmured, again locking eyes with me. “If what happened to Mom ever happened to you, you’d waste away in seconds, not able to give the people you love everything they want.”
“Addie,” I whispered.
She rolled to her feet. “I’ll be back.”
I rested on my knees and watched her go, disappearing quickly in the fast-growing crowd.
I had her on my mind and all she said. I also had a sleepy Brooks in my arms. It was naptime for baby boys, and sleepy Brooks was reminding me I needed a nap and badly.
With all this, at first, I didn’t notice it.
But then I did.
People were watching me, and when I caught their eyes, they didn’t look away.
Some smiled. Some lifted their chins. One woman even waved. So tentatively I waved back.
I would think this was friendly but they weren’t doing it to other people.
It was just me.