I nod and she leaves and I climb out of bed and head to my closet. I put on my favorite pink-and-yellow dress and grab my white espadrilles. My pink sandals would go better with my dress, but the school doesn’t allow shoes with no toes, so I can’t wear them. I pull a scarf down from the rack, a scarf that belonged to Nanny, and tie it around my neck, then I go into the bathroom and try to brush through my hair. Mom said I have to start taking responsibility for my hair, but it’s hard to get through the tangles. I’ll have to ask her for help and she’ll give me that face, but she’ll help because Mom always helps when you ask her.
I give up on my hair and go downstairs with it all tangled and hanging down my back. Shadow is standing at the door to the kitchen, and he licks my hand when I walk by him. I stop and pat him on the head and tell him he’s a good boy, and he makes a snorting kind of sound and follows me into the kitchen.
Jonah’s already sitting at the table with a plate of toast and a glass of OJ in front of him. He looks up at me and smiles.
“Hi, Eden!” he says, and I feel my lips wanting to smile, but it’s totally not cool to be so excited to see your annoying little brother, so I kind of wave at him as I go to the fridge.
“Hey, piece of pumpkin pie,” my dad says. He grabs my arm and swings me into him so he can give me a kiss.
“Morning, Dad,” I say.
“Dad,” he says, kind of like an echo of me saying it. “I sure miss you calling me Daddy. It happens, I know. You’re growing up. But I miss it.” He makes a really dopey sad face, kind of like a clown would make, only without the makeup.
“You’re silly, Dad. And anyways, Jonah still calls you Daddy.”
“Anyway,” my dad says. “Not anyways.”
“Okay, Dad. Whatever.”
My mom walks in, and Dad turns to her and says, “Whatever.”
She looks at him then makes a W with her thumbs and index fingers and holds it up in front of her face. “Whatever,” she says. After a few seconds, they both start laughing, and I don’t know why it’s so funny, but in a minute I’m laughing, too, and then so is Jonah and then the four of us all are laughing, and even though it’s like, totally lame, it kind of feels good.
I pull some milk out of the fridge, then turn to Mom. “I need help with my hair.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “I can see that.”
Dad has already put the box of cereal on the kitchen table, so I take a bowl from the cupboard. For just a really small second, I think about how I couldn’t reach the bowl cupboard when school started last year, but now I can. Mom and Dad said I had a growth spurt, which sounds kind of icky if you ask me, but it just means that I got a little bit taller. And my tummy kind of stretched up, where before it was a little bit sticky-outy. I like being a little bit taller, and not just because I can reach the bowl cupboard. But because I’m going to middle school next year and I want to look like a sixth grader.
I go to the kitchen table and take the seat next to Jonah, then grab the box of cereal and pour some into my bowl. Shadow is sitting next to the table pretending not to watch us eat, like he always does.
“I’m so excited!” Jonah says to me. “You know what today is, right, Eden?”
I roll my eyes even though Aunt Ruth says it’s not polite.
“It’s spring egg hunt day!” he hollers, like it’s the best thing that ever happened to him.
“I know already,” I say. “Big deal.”
“Yeah, it is,” he says, like he thinks I was seriously saying it was a big deal. “I’m gonna find lots of eggs, Eden. And I’m going to give you all the cookies-and-cream ones.”
I’m about to say something mean, like how the egg hunt is totally lame, but then I think about what he said, really think about it, and I get this kind of weird tight feeling in my chest. My brother is just a little kid and he bugs the crud out of me, but even though he’s only five, he’s always thinking about me and wants to make me happy. And I feel kind of ashamed that sometimes I’m not very nice to him.
“You don’t have to give me all of the cookies-and-cream ones, Jonah. You should keep them for yourself. They’re your favorite.”
“But I want you to have them ’cause you like ’em, too,” he says. And he smiles at me like I’m the best sister in the world, even though I know I’m not.
“How about we share them. Fifty-fifty,” I say, and he scrunches up his nose like he has no idea what I mean. “Fifty-fifty,” I repeat. “Half for you and half for me.”
He nods happily. “Fifty-fifty.”
I hold up my hand for a high five, and he slaps at it, misses the first time, then hits it the second time.
“Hurry up, guys,” Mom calls from the other side of the kitchen. I look over and see that she’s next to the fridge, holding a mug of coffee in her hands, and Dad is standing next to her and looking at her funny. She looks at him, but like really quick, and then looks away really quick, too. “We can’t be late for school today.”
“I’ve, like, heard that a million times already,” I say, but still I eat really fast. When I finish my cereal, Mom does my hair, and it hurts so bad when she brushes through my tangles. I try not to cry, but sometimes I can’t help it.
I grab my backpack and Jonah’s, too, just to be helpful, and Jonah and I follow Mom to the minivan. Jonah is giggly and excited, and I kind of want to roll my eyes again, but I make my eyes stare straight ahead while he sings about Peter Cottontail coming down the bunny trail.
Mom pulls up to the outside of my school, and a kid in my class, Dane Terry, opens the door for us. It’s called valet service, and I did it last month and I’m gonna do it again at the end of the year. Jonah gets out first, I get out second, and Mom gives us a wave, then drives off so the cars behind us can pull forward.
“Kindergartner?” Dane asks, because the valet kids have to walk the kindergartners to the kindergarten gate.
“I’ll take him,” I say, like I say every morning. I look down at Jonah as he reaches for my hand. This time, I can’t stop my eyes from rolling.
“We don’t have to hold hands, you know,” I tell him.
“Mommy says,” he tells me back. And she does, and I’ll get in trouble if he tells her I wouldn’t hold his hand. So I grab his chubby little fingers and we walk to the kindergarten gate and I’m kind of annoyed about it, but then when he lets go of my fingers at the gate, I kind of miss how his hand feels in mine, all warm and stuff.
“’Bye, Eden!” he says really loud. “See you at the egg hunt.”
I nod, embarrassed, then duck my head and walk to my class.
THIRTY-FOUR
SAMUEL
The coffee finally finishes its second brew cycle. Eden takes a seat at the kitchen table next to Jonah as Rachel crosses to me. We stand side by side, my wife and I, listening to the final chuff and wheeze of the machine.
“I think that might be the best sound in the whole world,” she says.
“Better than the laughter of your children?” I ask, and she gives me a sideways grin.
“It’s a tie.”
I grab Rachel a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter next to mine, then pull the carafe from the machine and pour. Rachel tops both mugs with half-and-half, then turns and leans back against the counter. She takes a few sips of coffee and gazes at the center island.
“Why didn’t we ever get bar stools for the island?” she asks.
“We still can,” I say. “Any reason in particular?”
“So I could bring a stool over here and just sit next to the coffee machine until the pot’s empty and I’m fully caffeinated.”