She walked up to the overflowing basket in the corner. “Maybe there’s something you’d want to keep.” After rummaging through the pile, she pulled out the black-and-brown, homemade pirate costume she’d sewn the night before a kindergarten Halloween party. “You loved this.”
I took the outfit and held it against my body, which had more than doubled in height. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
Mom burst out laughing as though I were the funniest personin the world. She had always done that, ever since I was a kid—I couldn’t resist taking advantage of it.
“I’ll bet you want to keep this.” She pulled out a box from underneath the dresser before lifting the lid and revealing my old Atari console and a stack of cartridges.
She was absolutely right about that.
“Your children will love this.” Her soft, green gaze met mine.
It was like looking into a broken mirror. The same refined nose, wide mouth, and deep brown skin, but I had my father’s brown eyes and dark lashes. And every time she looked at me, it was as though I could see her thinking about him.
Which often had me thinking about him too. About his untouched study.
No. Don’t go there. Not yet.
Shaking off the thought, I resorted to teasing my mother instead. “Who are these kids you keep mentioning?” I took the console and set it aside. “I haven’t been paying child support.”
Her hearty laugh filled the room once more. She pinched my stubbled chin, and her gold bangles jingled as they slid down her forearm. “Someday, you will make me a grandmother.”
“Humans haven’t evolved enough to procreate on our own, so…” I walked over to the other side of the room and cracked open the window. Maybe it had something to do with talking about my love life, or lack thereof, but the room was significantly stuffier than when I’d first walked in.
“Is my child not enough for you?” a voice joked from the doorway. Claire, my best friend for as long as I can remember, tossed a stack of three empty boxes at my feet. “Those are the only boxes I could find.”
“These are the only boxes you found before you got too lazy to look any further,” my mother said, pulling Claire in for a tight squeeze. “Where is your handsome husband and wonderful little girl?”
“Daddy-and-daughter playdate.” Claire kicked off her sandals and glanced around. “Hey, when did you move the bed?”
“Last week,” I said, rubbing my lower back, which had paid the price.
The oven timer pinged, and my mother lifted her index finger. “Be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Claire hoisted herself onto the desk and rummaged around in her tote bag before pulling out a novel.
“You don’t look like you’re here to help.” I took off my glasses and cleaned them using the end of my T-shirt.
“Moral support,” she said, and placed her finger on her lips. “Now shush, the enemies are about to become lovers.”
I stifled a laugh and kept my mouth shut as instructed. I preferred it that way and enjoyed the sound of Claire turning the page, the traffic that had become white noise, and the distinct sound of my mother using her glass cutting board.
With a deep inhale, I continued my quest to clear this room. If I finished early enough, I could squeeze in a gaming session before bed, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would be online to play with me.
But as much as I wanted to throw everything in the donations box, I got stuck. My brain got stuck. Some items stopped me for a few seconds while others pulled me back to a previous life, keeping me there.
Traffic picked up, and instead of the quiet hum from earlier, there was hooting and the jarring sound of different songs and radio stations overlapping. I could hear the birds. I could hear the neighbors talking. I could hear too much.
I stared at the item in my hand. Frozen. I couldn’t think of anything except for everything I was hearing.
“Much better,” Claire said as the window snapped shut.
Silence filled the room, and the buzz in my brain softened. Sheoffered me a knowing smile before climbing the desk and resuming her reading journey.
My mother reappeared, and Claire shoved her book underneath her thigh. Mom shot her a playful glare and then turned her attention to me. “Lincoln, I forgot to tell you, there’s a leaky faucet in the kitchen. Could you check it out?”
“Sounds like a job for a plumber.” I straightened to my full height, which put me more than a head above her. “I could call one.”
She laughed as if it were the most absurd suggestion before grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the kitchen, where the left-side faucet released a small droplet every few seconds.
