Page 8 of Tulips and Lost Time

But the girl, Kari… she’s his opposite in a lot of ways. She’s younger. Smaller. He has broad shoulders, while hers are tiny. His hair is cut short, hers hangs halfway down her back. His is black, hers, brown, and though his is ruler straight, hers comes with curls and frizz I’m not sure she knows what to do with yet.

Maybe that’s something her mom did for her.

And now her mom…

I swallow as that thought ricochets through my mind.

Her mom is dead. Just like that. Here one minute and gone the next.

“Uh…” Mr. Turner carries suitcases, one on each side, and sets them on the concrete stoop. Then he clears his throat. “This is everyone.” His eyes sweep across our crowd, pausing on me as he shakes his head. Since I don’t technically live here. And I’m not technically part of this family. “Marcus,” he murmurs. “And Kari.” He doesn’t touch the duo. He doesn’t dare hold their hands or break the grip Marcus has on his sister.

Already he, and the rest of us, know our place. And it’s not holding Kari’s hand.

“This is everyone,” Mr. Turner repeats. “Alex,” he nods to my side, “and Sam. That cutie back there,” he points past us, “is Brittany. And her little friends are Jess and Laine.” He chuckles. “Since I guess the whole neighborhood has come out for this. We’ve got Luc too.”

He says my name. Not exasperated. Not mad that I’m eating his food again. Just… acceptance. I’m one of them. So I push my chest forward, pride pulsing from my skin like rainbows from a Care Bear.

“Luc and the twins live up the street,” Mr. Turner explains. “But they’re around a lot. And Luc will be in your grade at school,” he says to Marcus. “Sam is a little older.”

“I’ll be your best friend.” I take a bite of my sandwich and grin when a morsel of chip falls to the floor. “You’ll live with them, but I’ll have your back in the halls at school.”

Marc regards me for a long minute, his stare a fiery hot poker that beats at my confidence, if only for a flicker in time. But then he blinks, looking down at the hand he holds, and the little girl who clings to a soft, pink blanket with sweet little bears printed on the edges. “My sister is in second grade.” He stands on his toes and studies the girls at my back. “Any of you in second, too?”

“They’re in first,” Mrs. Turner says gently. “But the school isn’t huge, and everyone knows everyone. The girls will get to play together at lunch. And my friend, Betty, will be Kari’s teacher this year. So we’ll keep a very close eye on things to ensure a smooth transition.”

“Will I get to see her?” Marc’s jaw ticks. Anger… or maybe worry, pulsing in every breath he takes. “I’m not in elementary school anymore, but I’m gonna want to see?—”

“It’s a K-through-twelve school,” Sam inserts. “We’re on the same grounds as the littles, just on opposite sides. So if you wanna see her or whatever, that’ll work.”

“We could walk you across,” I volunteer. “Until you and your sister are comfortable with the new school and stuff.” I look at the younger girl and tilt my head to study her glossy eyes. Bright green, just like Marc’s. But where his are narrowed and angry, hers are just… round. And scared. And wholly trusting of the guy who holds her hand.

She studies me, starting at my shoes and working her way up my jeans. To my shirt. She examines the chain I wear around my neck. Then she leans a little to the side, as though to get a new view. A new angle.

Finally, she brings her curious eyes to mine and blinks when I lift my chin.

“I’m Luc. And you’re little.” I look at Marc and break away from our secure line covering the door. “Let’s head out to the garage. We got a spare bass you could try.” I clap his shoulder and walk down the steps. “We won’t be extra loud or anything, Mrs. Turner. And I won’t touch the drums. Promise.”

3

LUC

NOT THE BEST FIRST IMPRESSION

“Ihardly even saw her that first day.”

Hours after bringing her home, Billy becomes my permanent accessory. Where I once wore a chain around my neck, I now wear a baby. Her hair is wispy soft, her breath, milky sweet. Her bedroom smells of poop after a giant clean up became necessary. And now… the sun droops in the sky outside as I wander to the kitchen to make a fresh bottle.

Kari planned to breastfeed the baby.

She had the pump ready to go, just in case. The pads for leakage. The bras that unsnap and provide the perfect access.

She had all these plans for what she considered the perfect family and circumstances. And yet, those plans came crashing down at the intersection just near Dixie’s Ice Cream parlor.

“She was just a kid,” I tell Billy. “Seven years old. No way did I think of her in any way except for how I thought of your aunties.” I add formula powder to water, then one-handedly put the lid on the bottle. I make fast work of screwing it on, pinching the nipple so I can shake it. “That’s not to say that I thought she was a brat the way I sometimes thought of Britt, Laine, and Jess.”

I turn and lean against the counter, cradling the baby against my chest and shaking the bottle with my free hand.

“Those girls were little monsters. They were loud and silly and always fussing because they wanted our attention.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, making it sting, if only to steal my mind away from how my chest aches. “They were beautiful girls who knew they had older, adoring brothers always watching their backs. So they acted the part and made sure they always kept us on our toes. But not your mommy.”

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