Lenny glances at Alex, still dead to the world on the couch. “Handful, as usual. But we managed. How’s the nursing home?”
I lean against the counter, surprising myself with a small smile. “It’s… not bad, actually. Old folks are a trip, you know? Today, I got Mr. Jameson to take ten steps with his walker. Last week, he could barely stand.”
“No shit?” Lenny raises an eyebrow. “That’s pretty cool, Wren.”
“Yeah, well,” I shrug, but I can’t quite hide the pride in my voice, “beats the hell out of my last gig.”
Lenny nods, understanding in his eyes. He knows enough about my past not to ask for details. “Any other exciting developments at Evergreen Meadows?”
I snort. “Exciting? It’s a nursing home, not a fucking circus. But…” I pause, thinking. “There’s this lady, Mrs. Kowalski. Tough old bird. She’s teaching me Polish swear words when the nurses aren’t looking.”
Lenny laughs, then quickly clamps a hand over his mouth, glancing at Alex. The kid stirs but doesn’t wake. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
“Speaking of food,” I say, changing the subject. “You eat anything that wasn’t out of a box today?”
Lenny has the grace to look guilty. “Uh, does pizza count?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Len. You’re gonna turn into a fucking grease ball at this rate.” I move to the fridge, yanking itopen. It’s pretty bare, but there’s some eggs and wilted spinach. “I’ll make you an omelet. You need some actual food in you.”
As I crack eggs into a bowl, Lenny leans against the counter, watching me. “You don’t have to, Wren. You must be beat.”
As I crack eggs into a bowl, Lenny leans against the counter, watching me. “You don’t have to, Wren. You must be beat.”
I shrug, whisking the eggs with more force than necessary. “I’m fine. Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t die of malnutrition.”
We fall into a comfortable silence as I cook. The sizzle of eggs hitting the hot pan fills the small space. I can feel Lenny’s eyes on me, and I know what’s coming before he opens his mouth.
“Wren,” he starts, his voice hesitant. “You know you don’t have to—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Don’t start that shit again, Lenny. We’re family. This is what family does.”
He nods, but I can see the guilt in his eyes. I sigh, flipping the omelet with more aggression than needed. “Look, I know it’s not… ideal. But we’re making it work, yeah? You’re in school, Alex is healthy, and I’ve got a job that doesn’t make me want to blow my brains out every five minutes. That’s something.”
Lenny nods again, this time with a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”
I slide the omelet onto a plate and shove it at him. “Eat. And tomorrow, you’re learning how to make something that doesn’t come with microwave instructions, got it?”
He takes the plate, grinning now. “Yes, ma’am.”
I’m about to ruffle his hair when the stench hits me like a truck full of week-old garbage.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I recoil, my face scrunching up like I just licked a lemon. “When’s the last time you washed that mop on your head? It smells like something crawled in there and died.”
Lenny’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. He looks up at me, all wide-eyed innocence. “Uh… Tuesday?”
“Tuesday of what year?” I shoot back, waving my hand in front of my nose.
He shrugs, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I’m cultivating a specific aroma. The ladies dig it.”
I snort. “Yeah, if by ‘ladies’ you mean stray cats and dumpster raccoons.”
Lenny clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, dear sister. This is high-quality man-musk.”
“More like teen spirit gone nuclear,” I mutter. Then, louder, “Wash your hair, you little troll. I’m not having Em think I let you marinate in your own filth.”
He rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine, fine. I’ll de-musk for the prodigal sister’s return.”
I ruffle his greasy hair, immediately regretting the decision as I wipe my hand on my jeans. “Good boy. Now finish your food before it grows legs and walks away.”
