I smiled and hustled us into the store. “Thanks, hon. But don’t get too used to it—I’m buyin’ another pair today.”
Mikey relayed his objections as I pushed through the aisles, grabbing the staples we needed: bread, peanut butter, orange juice, all got tossed into the cart out of habit. But once we hit the cereal aisle, his argument switched from my glasses to a battle over brands. In the end, I caved to the cocoa-flavored puffs with the silly cartoon characters. After all . . . I had a few extra bucks today, so we could afford to splurge on an extra box with a prize inside. After adding tomato sauce and spaghetti noodles for Italian night, I headed to the optometry department to buy another pair of prescription-free glasses. I planned to carry on the charade Mama had insisted on “for my protection,” realizing these past couple of weeks, she might not have died in a state of paranoia after all.
“No, no, no, Kadee!” Mikey started up again with his petition against glasses. “I don’t weawly wike you as good with your gwasses on.” He patted my face to take the sting out. “But I stiwl wuv you.”
I sighed. “Fine. You win . . . again.” We were running short on time anyway, and I was starving. “Let’s get outta here and grab some ice cream.”
“Yay!” He threw his arms around my neck, and I smiled, accepting the loss with good grace. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of energy to go against young Mikey—energy I didn’t have today.
Next to the checkout line was a display of end-of-season sunglasses on sale, among the miscellaneous nonessentials used to entice bored customers. I’d always been instructed to stick to my list, but today it seemed serendipitous for them to be right in front of my nose like candy when I had an extra twenty in my pocket. So I tried on a few, peering at myself in the miniscule mirror then checking back with Mr. Opinionated. After giggling together over the more outrageous ones, we finally narrowed it down. In the end, the cat-eye tortoise-shell we both liked knocked out the knock-off Ray-Bans.
Pretty soon me and my new sunglasses were rolling a full shopping cart and a chirpy four-year-old to the Hatchback, where I unloaded groceries under his supervision. On the way to pick up Andrew, we swung into a drive-in burger joint for some ice cream.
“We should buy one for Pete!” Mikey suggested.
“What a great idea,” I said, wondering what it would feel like to not have to worry about money for a change, while I dug some of that out of the ashtray. “What kind do you think he’d like?” I thought over the foods I’d seen him eat. Somehow, I got the impression he would frown on imitation ice cream.
Mikey debated a moment. “Probly choc’late like me.”
“Hmm. I was thinkin’ vanilla,” I teased.
“How ‘bout a choc’late and banilla swirl?”
I laughed and ordered three chocolate and vanilla swirls, leaving myself out because I didn’t have quite enough money for four. An overly friendly boy with splotchy skin brought out the cones in a tray. As soon as he handed them over, I backed out feeling bad because I’d cut him off—I never seemed to have enough time or money.
“Stop!” Mikey screamed in the panicked voice usually reserved for parents who accidently forgot to pick up their kid from school. “They forgot one!”
“No they didn’t,” I soothed. “I’m not really hungry today.” A stomach growl at that precise moment contradicted me.
“Kadee, guess what?”
“You’re crazy and I’m not?”
Mikey laughed his head off like that was the funniest joke ever told. “No!” He shook his head at me. “I’ve never not been hungwy for ice cweam before . . . that’s cwazy!”
We rolled up laughing into the empty parking lot to see Pete and Andrew peering intently under the hood of the Hummer. I rolled my eyes. Must be a Y-chromosome thing. My theory was proven correct when Mikey let out a whoop of excitement like there was a pop-up circus camped out there.
“I wanna see! I wanna see!” He almost fell out the door in his hurry to scramble out.
I relieved Mikey of the decimated remains of his cone and began wiping off his sticky hands, but he was harder to hold on to than a greased pig. Finally, I just gave up and let him go. He went squealing straight to Pete, who didn’t miss a beat—he scooped him up and tossed him in the air. After catching him, he held on to him to show him the fascinating engine. The infectious giggles I loved to hear spread quickly to Pete and Andrew like the laughing fairy had paid them a visit. Pete found my eyes, his smile turning into a grin.
Mine turned wistful. A sensation like a long-held wish—one that I didn’t even realize I’d been harboring—was being fulfilled. It was a purely good feeling that seeped into every nook and cranny of my being. Seeing Pete and the boys like this: with easy, natural smiles on their faces. Like— Poof!—everything was exactly as it should be.
Pete looked over at me standing with dripping cones in my hands and set Mikey down to head my way. As he closed the distance between us, the feeling only intensified until it became a burning sensation in my chest. This is it. Exactly what I want in life. Laid out before me on this asphalt parking lot. Seeing it up-close-in-person made it so tangible I could almost taste it. Like it would be as easy as reaching out to lick one of the creamy cones in my hands. I wanted it so much it hurt my soul. The want hardened into a need. I was afraid to so much as blink in case I disturbed the sensation.
Pete looked at me quizzically. “Need a hand?”
I was pretty sure my inappropriate feelings were written all over my face so was grateful to my new sunglasses for shading the windows to my soul. “Um,” I snapped out of it to hand him a cone, “this is for you.” I smiled ruefully. “At least pretend—Mikey insisted.”
Pete grinned before taking a long lick of melting ice cream. “Mmmm. Chocolate and vanilla mixed is my favorite!” he said loudly enough to catch the ears of Mikey, who beamed as proudly as if he’d scooped it himself.
“I tole you, Kadee!” he crowed. “It was my idea Pete! . . . But Kadee paid for it,” he confessed.
“Well, that was really nice of both of you,” Pete said. We strolled together to the Hummer, where I handed Andrew the last cone.
“No sittin’ inside until you’re all finished, okay?”
“Duh,” Andrew retorted.
“Hey!” I grabbed his arm. “Lose the ‘tude, dude.”
“OK. Okay?” He snatched his arm away.
My forehead and mouth formed parallel lines. Andrew had always been a bit precocious, but lately that was bordering on disrespect, and my feelings were hurt. Doesn’t he appreciate how hard I’ve been fighting for him?
“Hey, man,” Pete intervened pleasantly. “That was pretty cool of your sister and brother to bring you ice cream, don’t you think?”
Andrew’s ears pinkened. “Yeah.”
“Yeah’s not going to cut it at The Academy, Andy,” Pete reprimanded lightly. “I know you’ve been taught good manners because I’ve spent time with you. It’s part of what sets you apart—in a good way. And I expect more than just common courtesy for your sister. Do you understand?” Pete looked down on Andrew with a little more intensity now.