My toddler’s chin tucks as she crouches a little, grunting out a single word response right as Tucker closes in on her. “Poopin.”
I’m not sure whether it’s the word or the stink that registers first, but Tucker seems to stumble a little, one arm coming across his face. “Oh my God.” He turns to me, eyes wide. “Is that smell coming from her?”
I cringe, because it really is potent. “She eats a lot of broccoli.”
Birdie grunts again, this time following it up with a loud, long fart that carries a little too much of a juicy edge for my liking.
Tucker gasps in shock, regretting it immediately as he ends up with a mouthful of poop air and starts coughing. “I think I can taste it.”
“I’m so sorry.” I grab my daughter, hooking my hands under her armpits and holding her body away from mine, just in case she’s managed to obliterate the back end of her outfit. “You should maybe open the windows.”
“I should maybe tear the house down and start over, because that smell permeates.” He flips on the ceiling fan as I haul my daughter away.
But instead of staying in his room to rectify the cloud of stench left behind, he comes with us, going directly to thewindows of our room to lift the sashes. “Should you get that checked out?”
I set Birdie on the ground, digging into her diaper bag for the portable changing pad I keep inside. “Are you trying to claim your poop doesn’t stink?” I fling the pad onto the bed to protect the beautiful covering before centering my daughter on the surface. I’m so engrossed with the process in front of me, I don’t really think about the words coming out of my mouth. “Because I don’t care how great you are, what comes out of your butt is still gross.”
I’m pleasantly surprised to discover Birdie’s bowel movement is well contained within her diaper, and go to work cleaning her up. It’s not until I’m through the first stack of wipes that I notice Tucker is silent.
I glance up to find him with his back turned, giving my daughter privacy.
I mash down the smile trying to work on my lips. “Thank you for turning around.”
He shrugs, big shoulders lifting and dropping on the movement. “Honestly, I did it for all our benefit.” His head turns to one side, not enough for him to see me, but enough I can see the smirk on his face when he says, “And because I’m great.”
11
Tucker
Ruth thinks I’m great.
It’s a good first step toward building a convincing fake relationship. And that’s got to be why I’m grinning at the open windows while the cloud of Birdie’s shockingly offensive stench swirls around me.
I cough a little when a particularly potent wave hits me, brain racing through everything I need to do now that Ruth and Birdie are staying here with me. I’ve got to order a gate for the top of the stairs. I should also get a changing table so Ruth doesn’t have to hunch over whatever surface she can find.
And I need some sort of odor neutralizing spray. Lots of it.
“Finished.” Ruth gives me the all-clear.
I turn around to find another issue clutched in her hand.
“What would you like me to do with this?” Her nose wrinkles. “I probably shouldn’t put it in the bathroom trash.”
“You should probably launch it into space. But since I’m not currently equipped to send it into orbit, I’d say the outside can is our best bet.” I hold out one hand, inwardly cringing long before Ruth passes the loaded diaper off.
At least I thought it was inwardly, but Ruth’s bark of laughter makes me think I didn’t hide my disgust as well as I thought.
She hands over the bundle, still cackling. “Remember when you acted like putting a diaper in your kitchen trash was no big deal?”
“No.” I cup the heavy, hot weight of toddler excrement in my palm. “I have no recollection of that.”
Turning for the hall, arm stretched out in front of me, I hurry down the stairs, leaving the gate open behind me as I make a beeline for the garage. Cutting through the space, I go out the door leading to the back of my house where my garbage cans are lined up, and chuck the diaper into the closest one.
When I get back inside, Ruth has come downstairs with Birdie, and is standing in the kitchen looking like she doesn’t know what to do.
Understandable. I’m honestly not sure what to do either. A big part of that is because I don’t actually know what’s going on. I don’t know who that could have been on her doorstep, and I don’t know what in the hell she could have done to make them so mad.
Whatever’s going on, Ruth was absolutely terrified by it, and she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who scares easily.
