Page 20 of Street of Dreams
Ben nodded. “Mrs. Lemmon said it shows invitation because I added the sailboat on my own.”
Jake smiled at the kid. “I think she meant innovation. And she’s right. This is amazing.”
Danny and Henry bounced into the entry foyer to greet their younger brother.
“Whattaya got there, Ben?” Danny asked, cheerfully. “A new drawing?”
“Best drawing of the day,” Jake boasted, turning the sketch pad around to face the twins.
“Wow. This is awesome!” Henry took the book from Jake’s hands and headed toward the living room. “Let’s look at it in the light.”
They all sat on the couches, while Henry admired the drawing and pointed out its attributes, as if he was some kind of art connoisseur.
Ben sat quietly, with a broad smile on his face as he absorbed the compliments. Jake put his arm around his youngest brother. “You’re really talented. Eight years old and already a gifted artist. I don’t know where you get it from.”
Danny’s eyes shot to Jake’s, and they held each other’s stare for several moments before Danny broke eye contact to take the sketchbook from Henry.
Jake bit his bottom lip and wished he wouldn’t have said that last statement, because the three of them knew exactly where Ben got his artistic ability from – their mother.
Andrea King was a horrible mother who cared more about getting a fix than whether or not her five-year-old twins were hungry or in bed at midnight. At 10, Jake was the one who made sure they were bathed, fed and asleep at a decent hour.
By the time Jake turned 13, he had another sibling to take care of. Instead of playing ball or hanging around with his friends, he was changing diapers and getting up three times a night to bottle feed an infant. Half the time their mother was too strung out to notice that her newborn was screaming, so Jake took over until she rolled out of bed. Except one morning, she never woke up . . .
The high-pitched wail of a baby’s hungry cry invaded Jake’s sleep, waking him with a startled jump. He looked over at the clock/radio on his nightstand. It was six in the morning. He’d been up two times already during the night and had to be at school in three hours. He rubbed his weary eyes and sat on the edge of the bed wishing his mother would lay off the drugs and alcohol a little, so she’d be coherent enough to take care of her year-old baby. At least she picked up the phone when Jake called her throughout the day to remind her to feed Ben and put him down for a nap.
“I’m coming,” he called to his baby brother, as he trudged down the hallway. When he got to Ben’s room, the boy was hanging onto the railing of his crib in order to hold himself up, while fat tears streamed down his little face.
“Ake,” the baby called to Jake, reaching for his big brother with one hand.
“I’m here, buddy.” Ben clung to Jake as they walked over to the changing table. Once he was cleaned up and wearing fresh pajamas, a happy giggle floated from Ben’s mouth, and it filled Jake’s chest with warmth and love he’d never known existed. This little guy turned his heart inside out. “You want breakfast?”
“Um,” Ben replied, smacking his rosy lips together.
“Yeah. I’m hungry too.” The house was quiet at this hour, and it was just the two of them, until the twins had to get ready for school. At least they were able to take care of themselves, for the most part, but he still made them breakfast and packed them a lunch each morning. The twins ate in the lunchroom at school, but Jake’s lunch break was spent racing home on his bicycle every day so he could check on Ben. Sometimes, he thought this was too much, but watching Ben gurgle happily as he chewed on his frozen teething ring assured Jake that he was doing the right thing. He really had no choice in the matter, because neither one of his parents gave two shits about any of them. It was all up to him, and it was a responsibility he took on voluntarily.
As he waited for the farina to cool, he gave Ben a sippy cup with watered down fruit juice and checked the food on Ben’s shelf in the refrigerator.
The twins joined them in the kitchen just as Ben was halfway through his breakfast.
“Hey, Benny!” Danny stopped, with his hands on his knees, and smiled at his little brother in the highchair. “Whatcha eatin’?”
“Here.” Jake handed the bowl and spoon to Danny. “You finish feeding him, and I’ll make us scrambled eggs. As Jake prepared eggs and bacon on the stove, he watched the twins taking turns feeding Ben, and serenity washed over him. This was his favorite time of day, when both his parents weren’t around, and it was just the four of them.
Jake divided the eggs and bacon into three dishes and placed them on the table with toast. While they ate, Ben, who had already finished his small bowl of farina, watched with interest.
“Maybe Ben wants some eggs,” Danny suggested.
Ben hadn’t tried eggs yet, and Jake searched his memory for the foods he read toddlers were and weren’t allowed to have. “Give him a tiny, tiny, tiny piece. Don’t use a regular fork.” He jumped up and found Ben’s rubber-coated utensils. “Here. Use this.”
Ben watched with big eyes as the strange new food was presented to him.
“Go ahead,” Danny encouraged him. “It’s good. Eggs. Yum. Yum.”
Ben cautiously opened his mouth and closed it around the fork. He made a face, and the morsel of scrambled eggs flew from his mouth and landed on the kitchen floor. Everyone laughed at his rejection of the new food, but Danny tried again, first showing Ben how much he loved scrambled eggs by eating a few big forkfuls and making yummy noises.
Ben watched with curiosity. “Um!” he called out, which was his way of asking for something to eat. This time, he rolled the bit of egg around in his mouth, still making a weird face, but he swallowed it.
“Good?” Danny asked. “Want more?”
