Eden’s door is still mostly closed, like it is every morning. She’s not up yet. Mommy always says she has to drag Eden out of bed, but she doesn’t really do it, ’cause that might hurt Eden. This one time, I heard Mommy yelling that she was going to pour a glass of cold water over Eden’s head if she didn’t get up right that minute. But her yelling wasn’t mad yelling, it was kind of laughing yelling, and I knew she wouldn’t do it ’cause Mommy’s too nice to pour water over anybody’s head.
Mommy and Daddy’s door is still mostly closed, too, but I know Daddy is already up and at ’em ’cause I can smell that coffee smell from the kitchen. I go to Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom and I look inside and see that Mommy is still in bed, her head on the pillows and her arm kind of slung over her eyes, but I can tell she’s almost awake ’cause she’s not making that snoring noise, and when I push open the door, she takes her arm off her eyes and looks over at me and smiles real big.
“Good morning, my angel boy,” she says. “You’re up early.”
“I am,” I say back. “It’s the spring egg hunt day at school.”
“Is it really?” she says in that kind of surprised kidding voice she sometimes has. “I didn’t know that.”
“You did, you did!” I holler at her. I climb up onto the bed, and she scoots over and gives me a big hug. I really love Mommy’s hugs because her arms are strong and she does it like she means it, not like Auntie Ruth, who kind of pats you on the back and then pushes you away, like it’s a chore or something. Don’t get me wrong, I love my auntie. I just don’t like her hugs too much. But Mommy’s are the best, probably ’cause she’s my mom and I’m her best guy.
“I guess maybe I remember something about an egg hunt at school,” she says. “Look at you, already dressed. Wow, you’re getting to be such a big boy. You won’t need me for too much longer, will you?”
“I’ll need you forever,” I tell her, because she’s my mom, and even when I’m all big and grown-up, she’ll still be my mom.
She hugs me again, and my nose smooshes against her neck and her hair tickles me and I smell flowers.
“Why don’t you go downstairs and ask your dad to put some bread in the toaster for you? I’ll get dressed and wake up Eden, and I’ll be down lickety-split.”
I nod at her, then remember how naughty Eden can be about getting up. “We can’t be late for school, Mommy. Not today. Any other day, but not today.”
She makes a serious face. “We won’t be late.”
“Promise?” I ask, just to make sure.
Mommy crosses her heart. “We will not be late. That’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me.”
“Okay, then,” I say, and Mommy smiles.
“Love you, my guy.”
“Love you, too, Mommy.”
I jump off the bed and run to the door, then go down the stairs. Shadow is standing at the bottom of the stairs, kind of like he’s been waiting for me. I pet him on his back, then scratch at his ears ’cause that’s what he likes, and he licks the side of my face with his big pink tongue.
My feet are cold, so I sit on the very bottomest step and put my socks on. Then I put on my shoes and tie the ties like Eden showed me. I get it wrong the first time, but then I get it right the second time.
I go to the kitchen. Daddy’s sitting on a stool at the counter, and he has his big mug that says “World’s Best Dad” on it that Eden and me gave him for Christmas, even though it was really Mommy who bought it and wrapped it and then had Eden and me write our names in the card. Eden said my writing was too sloppy, but Daddy read it just fine and he was so happy to get our present, he got up from the floor where he opened it and went into the kitchen to put some coffee into it. He uses it every morning unless it’s dirty from yesterday. Then he uses the Minion mug instead. I like the Minion mug better ’cause I love the Minions—they’re so funny—but I know he likes his “World’s Best Dad” mug, so I don’t say anything about it. I’m just glad he likes the present from Eden and me.
“Hey, Buster Brown,” he says when he sees me. He gets off the stool and bends his knees so that I can look right at his face. “Are you ready for some coffee?”
I can’t stop the giggle. “I don’t drink coffee, Daddy. I’m too young.”
He makes a funny oops face. “Of course you don’t. What was I thinking?”
“Eden says coffee stunts your growth.” I don’t know what stunts means, but the way she said it, I know it’s not a good thing.
“Well, lucky for me, I don’t need to grow any more,” Daddy says. He stands up tall and walks to the fridge. “So, what’s your poison? OJ? Milk? Almond milk?”
I’m big enough to know that he’s only joking about poison. It’s a funny thing to say about something I’m going to drink, but grown-ups sometimes say funny things and don’t even know they’re funny.
“OJ?” I ask, and he nods.
“Coming right up.”
“Mommy says can you put some toast in the toaster?” I ask him.
“Your wish is my command.”
I know what that means, ’cause I saw Aladdin.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I say, and he smiles at me, then reaches down and picks me up and gives me a squeeze.
“You’re very welcome, Jonah bologna.”
He sets me down and goes back to the fridge and pulls out the OJ and the loaf of bread.
“So, what’s on your agenda today?” he asks.
I don’t ’zactly know what a ’genda is, but I think it’s like what I’m going to do. It’s silly that he asks, ’cause he knows what I’m going to do. But it’s fun, too.
“It’s the spring egg hunt at school today,” I say and feel myself get all excited all over again.
“That sounds like fun. I wish I could have a spring egg hunt at work.”
“You could, Daddy,” I tell him. “You could hide eggs all over your office and let your friends find ’em.”
“You know what?” he says. “That’s a great idea. It’s too late to do it this year, but next year . . . Will you help me hide them?”
I smile at my daddy, happy that he needs my help. He’s like a superhero guy—he fixes everything when it breaks and he can lift really heavy stuff and he can draw anything and he knows everything about sports. Him needing my help makes me feel glad. I already can’t wait till next year.
THIRTY-THREE
EDEN
I can hear Mom coming down the hall, and I put my pillow over my head. I hate getting up in the morning. I know I’m not supposed to hate anything because hate is a bad word and Dad says that hating can make you sick. But I’ve always hated getting up, and I’ve never felt sick because of it. I don’t know why school can’t start later. I mean, like, why can’t we go at ten or eleven instead of eight fifteen? It’s stupid. I’m not supposed to say stupid, either, but it just is.
“Good morning,” Mom says from outside my door in her happy voice.
“I’m awake,” I tell her from under the pillow.
“Wonderful,” I hear her say. “Why don’t you get out of bed and get dressed without me having to yell? We have to get to school on time this morning. You know what day it is, right?”
I let out a groan, and I know she hears me because I can feel her in my room next to my bed. All of a sudden, the pillow is yanked off, and my mom’s big face is staring down at me. I roll over away from her and pull my covers over my head.
“It’s spring egg hunt day,” she says, like I didn’t know that already. They’ve been talking about it at school all week, like it’s some big deal. It’s not, not for me, because fifth graders don’t get to look for eggs—we just get to watch the little kids look for eggs and make sure they find them and don’t wander off too far from the school. Like that’s a big deal. I’m sure.
“I don’t get eggs,” I say from under my blankets.
“You know your brother will share,” she says. And I know she’s right. Jonah will give me anything I want, even th
e cookies-and-cream eggs that are his favorite. He’ll give them to me to make me love him because he’s not sure I do. Of course I do, he’s my brother, but I let him think maybe I don’t just to get the cookies-and-cream eggs.
“You know what else today is?” my mom asks, yanking at my covers. “The last day of school before spring break.”
She’s right. I hadn’t thought of that. Just one more day, then we’re off for a whole week. Some of my friends are going skiing. I don’t know what Mom and Dad have planned, but I know it’s not skiing. Still, it’ll be fun just to not have to go to school.
I throw off the covers and sit up in my bed. My mom is smiling at me and now that I’m, like, totally awake, I can’t help but smile back.
“I like spring break,” I tell her.
“A whole week of sleeping in,” she says, then she winks at me.
“I can handle that,” I say, and we both start to laugh. She leans over and gives me a kiss on my cheek and I reach up to hug her, which I kind of don’t do very much anymore, now that I’m getting older. She looks kind of surprised but then puts her arms around me and squeezes.
“See you downstairs in a few, okay?”
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 th
e 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.”
“If you want, I can design a built-in pullout chair for you right here.” I tap the cupboard behind her.
“What a guy. Always thinking.” She looks at me, and her expression turns serious. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asks.
I focus on my coffee.
“Sure, why?”
“You tossed and turned all night.” She scoots in closer to me and uses her sexy voice. “Maybe if you’d taken me up on my offer, you would have slept better.”
I force a chuckle. It sounds false. She steps away and grabs the dish towel from the oven handle. She wipes a drop of coffee off the counter and glances over at me.
“What’s going on, Sam?”
“Work’s a little crazy, the usual. Don’t worry about it.”
“It doesn’t feel like the usual,” she says. I turn and look at her, expecting her scrutiny, but her attention is on the kids.
What Remains True Page 13