Page 109 of Totally Shipped
Dad puts a glass of ice water in front of me. Like diapers, it’s another thing that I will never take for granted again.
“So…” says Brooke, gesturing to Thea on my breast, “...snap?”
The babe attached to Brooke is bigger than Thea. This babe already has a thick head of chocolate brown curls, pretty gray eyes framed by dark lashes, and full chubby cheeks.
I love her…him, instantly.
“A boy? Girl?”
“A girl, Amelia.”
I grin. “After Earhart?”
“Of course.”
We are not alike personality-wise, but we still know an awful lot about each other.
“Thea’s full name is Amalthea.”
Brooke narrows her eyes, then gives a smile. “Of course you did!”
“It seemed appropriate,” I reply.
“I don’t get it,” my dad says. Dad doesn’t like when he’s out of the loop. There are a lot of things he doesn’t like.
Especially not being the center of attention.
He’s exhausting.
I flap a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, it’s a sister-thing.”
“Fine, don’t mind me,” he says in a cold tone. “I’m just the one who has been picking up the pieces, while you go off living Brooke's life.”
He alsolovesto play the victim.
I decide to not rise to any of his jabs, and instead concentrate on the important things. Brooke and I have so much to discuss, but instead we are just making baby smalltalk. I want to grab her hand and take her up to our old adjoining rooms so we can speak freely.
We can’t talk in front of Dad. He’ll monopolize the conversation.
I am desperate to ask who Amelia’s father is. I’ve been doing some math.
Just like the old days, Brooke reads my mind.
“These babies need changing, ” she declares, wrinkling her nose. She stands, her chair scraping across the kitchen floor. “Come on, Daze. You can check out Amelia’s nursery. I’ve got stacks of diapers in there.”
Mom is headed into the pantry. “Take your shoes off if you're going upstairs.”
Dad motions with his hand. “Go change the babies...then we’ll talk.”
Home sweet home.
Not a lot has changed at the house. A few new houseplants, and some more photos are on the walls. There are a surprising amount of photos that are of only me. That’s never happened before.
Wow. I just realized, thatneverhappened before. In the whole house, there was never a solo photo of me. Plenty of Brooke, standing with trophies or certificates, but the only photos of me were when I had my sister next to me.
“Did you photoshop yourself out of these photos?” I ask, as we walk up the stairs.
“Nearly had to—these were hard to find. I insisted they went up.” She stops and looks back at me, as though she is going to say something, but Amelia wriggles and starts to cry.
