Page 16 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
“You’re quite clever. You’d make a good lawyer. Yes, I read it on the sly. Most of my associates would snicker at anyone reading such fluff as fiction books.”
“Man, you lived in one hell of an uptight world if you had to hide your legal thrillers in a slipcover for a dry old law book,” he tossed out just as Valeria thundered down the stairs wearing a new outfit, full of wrinkles for it had been what she wore yesterday—pulled out of the hamper of all things—and grabbedLennon by the hand. When had the child even gone upstairs? Was I that bad of a guardian that I lost track of her that easily? Or, and this was probably the case, had Lennon distracted me so with his outlandish talk about writing fiction novels that my ward was now in pink tights and a matching dress with jelly stains on it.
“Valeria, we cannot go out in public with dirty clothes.” I took her by the hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”
“She’s just going to get dirtier,” Lennon stated while Valeria whimpered about wearing the pink starfish dress for the starfishes. It was a battle of biblical proportions not to take her to her room to find a clean outfit. Yes, she probably would get dirtier. The child had a knack for finding ways to locate grime. Also, and this was a big also, he looked at me as if daring me not to be so uptight. Not that I was uptight, obviously. Just neat and structured, but not emotionally repressed. I was feeling several dozen emotions right now. I just didn’t express them. I was an adult, after all. Goodness, imagine what the lunacy of a world where we all just emoted all over each other!
“You’re right. Let’s go, shall we?” We found her little backpack, which held a change of clothes, some wipes, and a package of cookies. I slid it over her upraised arms and left my foyer for the great wide world outside of Beacon Street. Just me looking tidy, my niece in a jammy dress, and a man in baggy overalls with bright orange patches on the knees. What a trio we made. The other passengers on the Blue Line seemed to find us quite the sight as they couldn’t stop sneaking glances at us while we rode along singing songs about a starfish named Sammy. I wasn’t singing, obviously, but Lennon and Valeria were not shy about belting out a song. I smiled at my niece as a good guardian would, proud of her sharp retention skills. Such a bright child. She would go far. Perhaps she would join Ketanji Brown Jackson and Sonia Sotomayer on the Supreme Court as another proudwoman of color to wear those prestigious black robes. An uncle can dream…
I did have to step in to remind her not to ask for nickels for her singing. Lennon found that to be incredibly funny and helped me hand the change back to the exiting passengers.
“Why does Lennon get to keep his nickels?” she asked with a lip that hung to her sneakers as we pushed out of the train, her hand firmly in mine. The sun was brilliant, shining down on the busy wharf. The sound of a street performer playing a trumpet flowed over the tourists who flocked to this area of the city daily.
“Because Lennon performs to supplement his income,” I said, hoping that would be the end of that discussion. However, as I was rapidly learning was the case with inquisitive almost four-year-olds, the nickel commentary continued well into the line to buy tickets to the aquarium.
“That old horn man is keeping his nickels.” She pointed at the trumpeter as we passed by.
“He is also working to supplement his income,” I explained and got a funny look from Lennon that he wore for a moment or two.
Her worry about not having nickels dissipated like rain on a hot city sidewalk when we entered the cool, dark New England Aquarium. I’d not been here in years, which was a pity really as the displays were fascinating. Valeria and her jammy starfish dress were right in style. Several other children at the ray touch tank had food smeared on their clothes. One young man had what looked to be ketchup in his blond hair. I hoped it was ketchup. If it wasn’t, he should be seeing a doctor and not touching the back of a stingray.
We toured the facility at our leisure, letting Valeria gawk and whisper to each tank of fish. Lennon was a pleasant companion even if his overalls were corny. He smiled effortlessly, even when crushed by sticky-fingered children and over-taxed adults. Weviewed penguins, sea lions, and, of course, the starfish exhibit. There were several varieties of starfish, some with twenty legs, that kept Valeria’s nose pressed to the tanks as Lennon and I lingered just behind her.
“That pink one looks like Patrick,” Lennon joked with a sly peek at me.
“I know who Patrick is,” I confessed dryly and got a short, cute snort from the man at my side. The dancing lights from the tanks, combined with the dim ambiance, looked incredibly good on him. It would be easy to imagine slow dancing in candlelight with him in my arms, his smile bright and white as he looked up at me.
“So you’ve made yourself a home in Bikini Bottom,” he replied, moving closer to allow a family of four to wiggle in to view the starfish.
“I have,” I confessed as Valeria started jabbering to the young girl beside her about her dress. “I’m not wholly sold on how amusing a sponge is, but will confess to some of the puns being rather humorous. Of course, I could be so tired that I’d find anything funny, including a squirrel who lives at the bottom of the sea.”
Lennon laughed warmly, his arm resting beside mine. A few zings of sparks danced up to my shoulder and then downward. I shifted to get some space between his sexy forearm and mine.
“Sometimes you just have to let loose and embrace a squirrel living on the floor of the ocean.”
Letting loose was not something that came easily to me. It seemed to be rather easy for Valeria and even Lennon. Perhaps I was a tiny bit uptight after all, but what was wrong with having a disciplined life? I wasn’t always precise.
“I’m not all that uptight,” I argued, which got a raised brow from Lennon. “Case in point. I had planned to do the museum first then the aquarium, but once I saw how excited Valeria andyou were to see starfish, I smoothly rearranged my plans and now here we are watching starfish while being sneezed on by hundreds of children in wrinkled clothes. I’d not even blinked at the upheaval to my agenda. I’d simply gone with the flow and let loose. In fact, I am so loose now there is a real chance of me being mistaken for a bowl of ramen noodles.”
“Uncle Wes, that boy picked his nose and wiped his booger on my sleeve. See.”
My reaction to that announcement was, sadly, anything other than laid back. We exited the aquarium the moment after I bought Valeria a new tee and leggings in the gift shopafterwe had scrubbed her from head to toe in the family bathroom. I threw the booger/jammy dress into the trash can as we exited the bathroom. There was no way in hell I was transporting some random child’s nose pickings home.
Once we were back outside in the sun and salty air, Lennon looked up at me as Valeria took a moment to dance to the trumpet man.
“That was the first time I have ever seen a noodle go from loose to rigid.” His snicker could have added to my tension, but for some reason, I found myself chuckling. Then laughing, out loud, as the trumpet man played “Love is in the Air” while staring at Lennon and me giggling like goofy geese. Even Valeria began laughing, even though she had no clue what was so funny. It was the lightest I had felt in…
Hell, years.
Chapter Seven
Iloathed walls of peach and coral.
Who the hell thought painting an office wall the same tone as a prolapsed anus would soothe the nerves of people who were on the verge of leaving said office?
“Uncle Wes, why does I have to see the doctor?” Valeria asked as she sat beside me on a cheery little pink seat in a cheery little office with cheery little animals in cheery little outfits. I also loathed cheery. The only upside to this morning’s outing was that the cheery little beaver in those cheery little denim overalls reminded me of Lennon. Not that Lennon had buck teeth or a flat tail. It was the coveralls and the cheeky smile the beaver was wearing that kept pulling the man’s face to the fore. “I’m not sick.”
She stared at me as some sort of cheery piped-in music fell down over us in waves of happy three-quarter-timed songs.
