by kj lewis
When I don’t answer, she turns to my guys.
“You have to tell him.”
“We tried to tell him,” Colin says, “but he was too blinkered to listen.”
“You speak about me like I’m not sitting right here,” I say.
“Would you rather us talk behind your back?” Sam asks before turning her attention back to the guys, like something has just occurred to her. “When did he start getting snippy with you guys?”
“Yesterday. Lunch,” Quade says. “After he saw the Instagram account.”
“Is that what this is about?” Sam asks me. “He started in on me about that account this morning.” She mumbles, and I can see the wheels turning. When she zeroes in on me, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it. I mentally brace myself.
“All of this could have been avoided if you had just said what was bothering you, but you had to choose the difficult path.” Then her eyes and tone soften. “No one expects you to get this right all the time you know. Any of you.” She points to me and my lads. “None of you have kids in your life other than Zinnie and Poppy. You four are a team. Act like it.”
“That’s your big revelation?” I ask. Part of me really had hoped she would have the answer.
She releases a deep sigh. “Walt, you are their parent now. You can’t be their uncle.”
“I’m their guardian.”
“For all intents and purposes, you are their parent. That means you get the real thing. You get the girls no matter what mood they are in. No matter what is going on in their lives. No matter how they are feeling. The guys are their uncles. That means there are going to be times they get to be the fun ones, while you get to be the one they hate, the disciplinarian, the rule maker. But it won’t always be like this. You are a visual reminder of the person who took their dad’s place. A dad they didn’t want to give up. As they work through their grief, they will see you for Walt, more and more, little by little. You know it’s true. You see it already in Poppy. She’s younger. Her grief is very different than Zinnie’s. She’s already come around in ways Zinnie isn’t even close to. You can’t be the fun uncle right now. They need a father.”
“I’m not looking to be the fun uncle.”
“The sooner you understand your role, the easier it will be. Until then, it’s not fair to take it out on the guys. They have roles, too. Pierce will always be the one they go to when they’re in trouble, because he will help them work through it. Quade will always be a soft place for them to land. Colin will always be the one they need when they want to just forget the world for a while, because they know he will keep them safe. Finn gives them a true uncle experience.”
“So, I get all the crappy leftovers is what you are saying.”
“You don’t mean that,” she says, leveling me with a glance like she knows it to be fact. I wish I had her conviction.
“And what if I did? I’m not sure this is what I signed up for.”
“If you really mean it, then now is when you need to rely on us even more,” Quade says. “But I need you to get there soon, because I really want to nut-punch you right now. The crappy leftovers. What about bath time? Reading time? What about midnight cereal? You didn’t think I knew, eh? The girls told me that night I took them to the game. You get to see the real girls. That’s not crappy leftovers. Jesus. All this because I took them to a fucking game?” Quade asks.
“No. He’s been simmering for a while. We’ve all seen it. Now we know how we can fix it,” Pierce says.
“I don’t need fixing.”
“Oh, you need fixing,” Colin says, and a cacophony of agreement rises from the table.
“So, Tuesdays at six,” Charlotte says. “Will there be dessert?”
The lift dings and Zinnie steps off. Everyone greets her, and she comes to stand at the end next to me.
“Did you have a good time?” Sam asks her.
“I did. We watched a movie.”
“That’s sweet.” Uh oh. My eyes dart to Zinnie when I detect Sam’s sarcasm. “What time did I tell you to be home?”
“Seven.”
“And what time is it now?” We all watch the exchange between Zinnie and Sam like spectators at a tennis match.
“Almost eight.”
“I hope it was worth giving up the movie tomorrow night.”
“What? You can’t do that!” Zinnie’s voice raises three octaves.
“A simple call to tell me you were running late. To ask my permission. That’s all it takes. I’ve told you this before. No movie tomorrow night.”
Zinnie doesn’t say anything, instead stomping off in the direction of her room.
“She’s about to scream. She’s fine. No one get up,” Sam says, taking a sip of her wine.
As if she choreographed it, Zinnie lets out a scream that is pure rage and frustration and stomps her way back to the table.
“I want my door and I want it now,” she screeches.
“No,” Sam says.
“I want my door and I want it now.”
“Repeating it isn’t going to make it so. I told you last night to stop slamming your door. You continued to slam your door. You locked it when I told you to stop locking it. I let you go out in spite of your behavior. You still didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. When you can start treating the people in this family with the respect everyone deserves, then you can have certain privileges back.”
“I hate—”
“Ah-ah-ah, careful. Your phone is next.”
“You are not my mom.”
“No. But I am charged with making sure you are safe and cared for. Something your mom would have seen to. I know this is difficult—”
“Don’t.” Zinnie cuts her off. “We were fine without you. It wasn’t perfect, but at least the other nannies were oblivious and just let us be.”
“Well, I love you, so that is not going to happen.”
“I don’t want or need your love or you for that matter.” Zinnie’s words are filled with complete disdain. “You’re just the hired help.”
“Zinnie that is enough,” I insist. Sam has a great poker face, because she doesn’t even flinch at those words, but I see it in her eyes. That hurt her.
“No,” Sam says. “Get it out of your system if that is what it’s going to take. I may be the hired help, but I take my job seriously.”
“Stop.” Zinnie’s voice sputters, and I can hear the control she is trying to exert over her emotions. “Stop acting like you know what we are going through.” I cringe when Zinnie echoes a comment I made to Sam not even thirty minutes ago. But Zinnie is on a roll and Sam seems set on letting her speak her piece. “You sit around here like you belong. You don’t belong. You, don’t know what this feels like. You didn’t lose your parents. You didn’t lose your best friend. So, stop trying to be something in our lives.” Zinnie wrangles her emotions in and then with every bit of anger, resentment, and sadness she adds, “You’re nothing.”
Before I can take a breath, much less respond, three chairs scrape against the floor. Samantha’s squad stands. Their mien is a mixture of empathy and anger.
“Girls,” Sam says, clearing her throat of her own emotions. I don’t know what’s going through her head, but I would give anything to make it where she never has that look on her face again. “Don’t,” she instructs them.
“She doesn’t get to say that. Not to you. Not after—”
“Don’t.” Sam cuts Zoe off and turns back to Zinnie. “When you start behaving the way you are expected to, you will get your door back.” Sam stands. “Until then, no movie tomorrow night. Now, if you fellas don’t mind taking clean-up duty tonight. My girls and I will do it next week. I think we’re going to take a walk and get some ice cream.” Sam excuses herself. Three friends following behind.
Zinnie immediately breaks, flinging herself into my lap, throws her arms around my neck, and sobs. I don’t move other than to wrap my arms around her, holding her while she releases emotions that have been
on the brink since the night of her parent’s accident. Finn places a hand on her knee. Pierce kisses the top of her head before clearing the table. Quade and Colin quietly assist.
The sobs wracking her body eventually settle, until hiccups are all that’s left.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers softly.
“I know.” I kiss her forehead and the tenderness sets her off again. Fifteen minutes later she’s asleep against my chest.
“I’m sorry, too,” Quade says.
“Nah. I’m the one that’s been acting like a prized idiot. This has been harder than I think I even realized. I should have asked for help already.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Colin says. “We’ve been giving you space to deal with this. We should have been in this sooner. I just didn’t see how hard things were with the girls.”
“I think Sam pegged our roles,” says Pierce. “Now it’s up to us to make sure the girls know they can count on us. And you, too.”
“For what it’s worth,” Quade says, “there are five other people in this room and you’re the one holding her. I’d take that over a baseball game any day.”
Finn stays after dinner and we shoot some hoops in the gym we share on the floor above my condo. After Zinnie passed out from the exhaustion, I carried her to her bed where she woke up and cried some more. I sat with her until I was certain she was sound asleep.
Eventually, I left her and went back to hash out the business details with the guys, which I should have done from the beginning. I went over all the items Reid Beckett had advised me on and together we made the decision to share a secondary trust for the girls. Then we discussed the best way to protect the girls from someone later in their life using them only to access their wealth. It’s not something the girls need to worry about now, but it’s something we need to consider when setting a trust’s parameters.
Without question, we are on track to making better decisions for the girls. I feel considerably lighter than I did earlier today but still weighted from the hard things to come.
I miss my shot and Finn makes a comment about my lack of focus.
“Although, you didn’t appear to have a problem focusing at the gala the other night,” he says, sinking his shot. He checks it to me and I work my way toward the basket.
“Come on, little brother. You know I rarely lose focus. But what specifically are you speaking of?” I fake past him, shoot, make it, and grab my own rebound.
I move back to the top of the key and we both catch our breaths. Finn wipes a bit of sweat off his brow before I charge the board again.
“I’ve never seen you possessive about anything in your whole life, but one guy just glanced in Sam’s direction, whom you never took your eyes off of, and you were ready to throttle someone.”
I stumble and miss my shot. Finn makes a show of looking at the floor to see what imaginary bump I stumbled over.
“I need her focused on the girls. She can’t do that if some arsehole has her distracted.”
“If you say so,” Finn chuckles, stealing the ball for a layup.
I take a seat on the floor, breathing heavily.
“Need a break old man?” Finn squats down in front of me.
“I can’t even tell you how much I’ve aged over the last five months,” I admit, laying back, greedily sucking in air.
“Let me ask you something. Do you feel like you have a little more balance after this evening?”
“I don’t know, man. I just wish that life gave you a map, you know? Made you an outline. Explained which chapters were hard. Showed you where the accidents were. Where the streets aren’t finished. Which way to turn. I have an app on my phone that can get me from here to bumblefuck, but I can’t figure out what the hell is around the next corner.”
“It’ll come soon enough.” He seems a little surprised that I so readily admitted that I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing. But I’m too tired to not pretend it’s not how I’m feeling.
“I was looking for the Seleske file the other day. The one you said you left on your desk.”
“Yeah. I saw it was gone. I figured you had it.”
“I saw the brochures for boarding schools. Please tell me you are not going to ship those girls off.”
I release an animalistic noise as I pull myself up into a sitting position.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I’m your brother and I will always love you, but if you send those girls away, I don’t know if that is something I can forgive.”
Ouch. Hearing that hurts more than I thought it would.
“What if it’s what is best for them?”
“It’s not.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I am. I have eyes. I can see.”
“Camilla—”
“Is a bitch for even suggesting it.”
“That’s not fair. This has been an adjustment for her, too.”
“Please. You and Camilla have always had a relationship of convenience and comfort. You were both selfish when you decided to get engaged. The relationship was a fit for both of you at the time.”
“I’m not sure it fits me anymore. To be honest I don’t recognize that person anymore.” I admit.
“Good. He was a daft prick.”
“If you felt that way, why didn’t you say something? You would let me marry someone you don’t like or respect?” I ask indignantly.
“I like and respect Camilla. I just think she’s a very different person than you are now, and if she tries to send my nieces to a boarding school, I don’t know if I can be responsible for my actions. But that would be on you, bro. Because you hold the power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Speaking of Camilla, can you keep the girls Thursday night? It’s Sam’s night off and I swear it always seems to be the only night I can’t change my plans.”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll take them to a Yankees game.”
“You’re such a motherfucker,” I laugh. “Now, help an old man up.”
Finn and I part ways in the stairwell when I stop at my floor and he heads down one more flight to his.
I swing by my office to grab a few reports to read before checking on Zinnie. Her room is empty. I look in all the places I think she might be, but can’t find her. I ring her mobile, but it just leads me to her bedside table. I call Sam’s. No answer. I call Finn. He hasn’t seen her either. By the time I have Zoe on the phone learning Sam came back a couple of hours ago, Finn is standing in the apartment ringing security, who is in the apartment seconds later.
The security on the door confirms they didn’t leave through the lobby and moments later the security feed shows them on the deck outside.
“Fuck. I think it’s their goal to give me a fucking heart attack.” I breathe a sigh of agitation and relief, and in that moment I’m hit with a hundred percent clarity that I don’t want to be separated from the girls. Boarding school is not an option.
“Jesus. Me, too. Remind me to teach Sam how to leave a damn note,” Finn grumbles before heading back to his place. I slide open the door leading to the terrace, a space that has gone virtually unused until recently.
Around the corner on the west side of the terrace, I find them on a double-wide chaise lounge outside of Sam’s room. Zinnie has entwined herself around Sam, who is wrapped around her in a way that makes it seem like she’s helping to protect Zinnie. Something I reason she needs right now. They are both sound asleep, the remnants of tears streak Zinnie’s face.
I enter into Sam’s apartment to search out a blanket, and I notice she has unpacked some more boxes. There are pictures I haven’t seen before. These must be her parents. I’m not sure two people could look more in love than they do in this picture. A family picture: her, her parents, and those must be her siblings. Then there’s a picture of her and a little boy. Her and her squad. A graduation picture. Setting the frame down, I grab the quilt off of Sam’s couch and cover them both, leaving them each with a kiss to the f
orehead and to sleep in the great outdoors.
The next morning, they’re up before I am, making breakfast. Finn is at the bar drinking coffee and reading a paper.
“What are your plans for today?” I ask, pouring my tea.
“I forgot to look at the calendar?” Zinnie says, looking over her shoulder to Sam. “What are we doing today?”
“Well, I talked to your grandparents and Poppy is having fun with the little girl who lives next door, so I thought we would wait and get her this afternoon.” She turns, handing me and Finn each a plate of breakfast before carrying hers and Zinnie’s to the table. “And since you are on lockdown from the movies…” Sam glances up to see Zinnie frowning at her, pepper shaker in hand halted mid shake. “Too soon?” Sam asks, chomping on a piece of bacon, she and Finn laughing. I see a hint of a twitch to Zinnie’s lip but she looks determined not to let her snicker out. Seeing that’s all she gets, Sam moves on.
“As I was saying, I thought we might spend the day together. There’s an exhibit at The Met on the history of fashion I thought you might enjoy. Also, I texted a friend and she can meet us for lunch today. I thought you might be interested to see her studio.”
“That sounds okay.”
“Yeah?” Sam says with a bit of hopefulness.
“Yeah. I’d really like that,” Zinnie confirms thoughtfully.
The lift pings, and Quade saunters into the room.
“Yes. Bacon.” He gives a fist pump of excitement for pork and piles it on a plate. “This always reminds me of uni.” He points to his plate of eggs, bacon, tomatoes and toast. “The only thing missing is…”
“Baked beans,” Finn, Quade, and I finish in unison.
“Yuck,” Zinnie says, scrunching up her nose. “Baked beans for breakfast?” Zinnie shudders like she might just gag.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Quade.
“Early for our meeting. Thought I would come see what was going on. I wanted to ask if you needed me to take the girls tomorrow night since you are going to that benefit. I know it’s Sam’s night off.”
“Oh, are you and Jason still going to that art opening you were telling me about?” Zinnie eagerly asks with round eyes like she is dying to know more.