Page 95 of Our Long Days
These women—my sisters—dropped everything to be here for me.
Something tapsme on the forehead, rousing me from my nap.
“You’re drooling on my favorite blanket,” a sweet voice whispers.
I crack an eye open to find Lottie standing over me, equal parts adorable and cross.
“Sorry,” I croak and sit up. My head is heavy, muscles sore.
When the girls asked me what I wanted, “Sleep” was all I managed. No one asked questions. I collapsed on the sofa, weighed down by the day, and fell asleep.
“How long have I been asleep?”
Lottie thinks then glances at the clock on the wall. “The big hand started on five, moved alllll the way around and ended on six.”
Translation: over an hour.
I tug my niece into me. She giggles as I bury us under the blanket. Her green eyes sparkle, a very similar shade to my own. “Aunty Flo, I don’t like it when you’re sad.”
Lying is pointless. She’s as sharp as a tack. “Sometimes, grownups get sad, but I’ll be okay. It’s good to cry and let it out; otherwise, it can bubble inside you.” I brush back her hair. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for being sad. Or angry. Or scared.”
She nods. “Did Uncle Dex make you sad?”
“What makes you think it was Uncle Dex?”
“When you were napping, everyone went into the kitchen. They didn’t see me…” She was eavesdropping as usual. “JoJo said she was gonna give Uncle Dex a piece of her brain. Then, Aunty Aly and Aunty Harriet said ‘men are only good for one thing’ in angry voices. Even Aunty Quinnsounded mad, and she never gets mad. What are men good for? And what’s an or-gas-m?”
I blink. Aly knows, but it shocks me to think she’d tell the others without my knowledge.
“They’re upset because I’m upset. That’s what friends do. Men are complicated, like that puzzle your dad got you the other week. Speaking of your father, ask him what an orgasm is when you see him next.”
“Okay,” she chirps then bounces to her feet. “Come on. Aunty Quinn made cookies.”
Like a walking burrito, I shuffle after Lottie. Four pitiful gazes greet me when we enter the kitchen. Brilliant.
“The sob fest is over. Fret not, ladies. Sorry for disrupting your day,” I joke.
No one laughs. Johanna ushers me to sit around the dining table, a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies and a pitcher of iced tea in the center. The others join us, all sharing a look that says,Who’s going first?
Jo grabs Lottie’s attention. “Hey, can you help me?”
My niece taps a finger to her chin. “Maybeee.”
“Could you go upstairs and start drawing some art for the baby’s room? I think the princess dinosaurs you’ve been practicing will look perfect above the crib.”
Lottie beams like the sun and darts away, squealing happily.
“Now that the little ears are gone, we can speak candidly.” Jo leans forward, fingers linked on the table.
I turn to Aly, who already knows what I’m going to ask.
“Hey, I didn’t tell a soul.” She shrugs.
Eyes darting around the table, it’s clear everyone knows.
“God, what a mess.” My head falls into my hands. “The important thing is, Patrick doesn’t know. Dex would hate himself if Pat found out before he spoke to him.” A flat laugh trickles out of me. “Not that he’s going to tell him now anyway. That ship has sailed.”
The room is silent.
