Page 89 of The One I Need
“Poor girl,” Izzy says. “And poor Jimmy.”
“Believe me, he’d rather take care of a sick kid then deal with all of this.”
The three of us look around the room and it seems as if for the time being, the focus isn’t on me or Izzy.
“Where are my manners?” Jessie says, extending her hand to me. “I’m Jessica. Or Jessie. Izzy’s older sister and interference runner.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Oliver. The husband and situation saver.”
“See, I’m all covered,” Izzy says. The three of us and Benji walk over to a set of doors that leads out to a patio where luckily, no one is currently sitting.
“Go play on the swings,” Jessie says, shooing Benji away. “I need to talk to Aunt Izzy.”
Benji turns to me before he goes. “Will you come push me?”
I look over to Izzy, who is already nodding in approval. “Go.”
“Yes!” Benji says as he runs away.
“You sure?”
She nods. “I’m sure. I’ll be fine. Plus, if I need to scream the signal, it will be great getting to yell it across the yard.”
I give her a kiss on the head. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Now go.”
I head down the lawn and over to the swing set, where Benji is already locked and loaded into position.
“All right, Oliver. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
Chapter30
Izzy
“Where did you find that one?”
I laugh at my sister as we watch Oliver push Benji on our old swing set. “Got drunk with him at a wedding. Haven’t been able to get rid of him since.”
“And your wedding?”
“Drunk in Vegas.”
My sister starts laughing so hard I think she’s going to rock out of the chair she’s sitting on. Which of course, only makes me laugh as well.
This is where we had to go to laugh in this house—outside, on the porch, away from our parents. I don’t think I’m putting words into my sister’s mouth when I say we grew up in a bleak home. There wasn’t an outpouring of love. There wasn’t color or fun. The mantra was that families only existed to do work and eventually produce more family members. I don't think in the eighteen years I spent in this house I ever saw my dad kiss my mom. I don’t know if my mother knows how to smile.
The only thing that kept me sane growing up was Jessie. Yes, we followed the rules because it was easier than not, but once a day we’d come out here, when Mom was on the other side of the house cooking dinner, and have an hour of smiles and laughter. It’s where she told me she first kissed her now husband. It’s where I told her about my first crush. It’s also where she held me and let me cry when my world fell apart.
But I choose not to remember the sad days out here. Because the good far outweighs the bad.
“Why didn’t you call me about Dad?” I ask. “I know I’m the black sheep, but it’s still pretty fucked up that it takes twenty-four hours to get a call that he was dead.”
“I’m sorry, I wanted to,” she begins. “I was at the store when Mom called to tell me. At first I was so frantic to get over here I barely remembered to call and tell Jimmy. Then once I got here Mom had me doing so many things—all of course while she was showing no signs of grief or loss—that it honestly slipped my mind. I’m so sorry, Izzy. You know I didn’t do it on purpose.”
I reach over to hold her hand. “I know. I don’t blame you. Though I much rather would have heard the news from you than Mom.”
“Try being the one who had to see her as the paramedics wheeled him away. Believe me, I’d have taken the awkward phone call anyday.”
