“I didn’t,” she replied without hesitation.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you did. You always knew what to do with us.” He thought of her keeping all six kids in check.
She laughed. “No, Brodie, no one knows what to do. You just go with what feels right.”
That was no help at all. He turned and leaned against the wall, stared at the struts of the staircase. “What if it’s wrong?”
There was a pause. He could imagine his mom thinking for a moment what to say, maybe sitting down at the big kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Brodie,” she said, “children aren’t yours to own. They are in your life for a certain amount of time and it’s your job to be there for them.” He could hear the smile in her voice when she carried on. “They are their own people. Usually interesting, clever, sweet, funny people who you may actually find yourself enjoying spending time with. All you have to do, Brodie, is be there, shepherd them. That’s enough.”
Brodie listened, nodding.
“It’s just practice,” she added. “Like everything.”
He thought of the hours with the band in the rehearsal room where he was terrible at sitting still. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound casual.
He imagined her eyes narrowing. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, totally fine.” He waved a hand in dismissal.
They said goodbye. Brodie slipped the phone in his pocket feeling no better. He went back into the kitchen. There was Slime everywhere. Like an explosion of goo. One of the food-coloring bottles had tipped over and bright red liquid dripped onto the floor where Zoey was on her hands and knees trying to catch it with a dishcloth, the scarlet dye bleeding into the fabric. When she saw him, she looked up guiltily.
“What the heck’s happened here!” Brodie’s voice came out loud with horror. His eyes widened, his hands raised. Where Zoey had tried hastily to wipe it up, the spilled Slime had taken the top layer of varnish off the table. He felt the infusion of adrenaline and panic, what would Maeve say? He’d left Zoey alone for five minutes and this happened. He watched the cascade of food coloring sloshing onto the floor. He stood open-mouthed for a second, then said more despairingly, “What have youdone!”
“Please don’t be mad!” Zoey looked like she was about to cry, big eyes blinking back tears as she tried to contain the food dye chaos.
He could feel his heart beating in his head. He felt the urge to shout, to rant and rave, to throw his hands up, but then he looked at those huge watery eyes and he heard himself in his head and said, “It’s okay, Zoey. It’s fine.” He grabbed the roll of paper towel and lay a mountain of it under the dripping coloring, then tried his best to swipe up the varnish-stripping glop. “We can clear it up.”
Zoey nodded, bottom lip trembling.
“Hey.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to shout. I’m sorry.”
Practice was not making perfect. Brodie felt worse than ever.
ChapterThirty-Nine
When Maeve came home, she expected they’d have a conversation, but Brodie kept his distance. She had wanted to apologize. Say that she’d been too defensive, overreacted about the photos—that it wasn’t his fault—that instead of taking a step forward, she’d taken one, maybe three, steps back.
But before she could say anything he said, “I’m really sorry, your table’s ruined. And the floor. There was Slime everywhere and?—”
“Zoey!” Maeve interrupted him, frowning at her daughter. “I told you not to play with that stuff! You know what it does. It’s a nightmare!”
Zoey looked like she was about to burst into tears.
Maeve said, “No. Don’t turn on the waterworks, because you know it was wrong.” She turned to Brodie. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, looked a little like a rabbit in headlamps. “It’s okay. We cleared it up,” he said. “And I can get you a new table.” He pointed again to where all the varnish had been eaten away.
Maeve waved away his concern, it was a really old table and had probably suffered worse. “Thanks, but don’t worry. I don’t need a new table. Zoey, that stuff was hidden at the back of the cupboard for a reason!”
Zoey nodded, putting on her best wide-eyed worried face. Maeve shook her head, silently telling her to knock it off.
Brodie looked equally terrified, but she was pretty certain his expression wasn’t an act.
“Well, anyway,” he said, “I gotta go. Bye, Zoey!”
She waved, chastened. “Sorry about the Slime.”
