“Okay,” Adam whispered. “He’d like that.”
“Neva!” Heath yelled as Neva walked into the living room. “Jamie’s build made the cover.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Neva smiled. “Is it here already?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “They really rushed this one. Last time they chose one of my builds, it was months before it showed up.”
“It’s cool that you used our last name,” Joshua told me.
“I always have,” I explained. “People don’t take me seriously when they find out I’m a girl. I don’t want what I do to be about the fact that I’m a female; I want it to be about the work I put out there.”
“Dad told me that,” Adam said. “He thought it was cool that one of us was famous.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “He liked that.”
“I bet the people at your new job are happy you’re coming to work for them,” Neva told me. “They’re getting a famous artist and mechanic on staff. That can only bring good things, right?”
“I didn’t say a word in my resume about my awards,” I admitted. “I let my experience speak for itself and got the job. I’m happy about that.”
“Are you ever going to tell them?” Heath asked me, confused.
“I will if we get something I’m proud enough of to submit for an award,” I answered. “I never go into it for just that, but I do appreciate it when I win some money out of the deal.”
“Yeah,” Joshua smiled. “Disneyland, here we come!”
“Yep, that’s what I’m saving for,” I reminded him. “The move took some of my savings, but I’ll get it built back up and maybe we can go next summer.”
“You get money because our dad is dead,” Adam scoffed. “You don’t have to pretend you’re broke.”
“No, Adam,” I tried to control my temper and wondered how he knew about his father’s benefits. “Your dad and I weren’t married, so I don’t get any survivor benefits. You guys do and I put that away in your savings for you to have when you get older. I already told you about that.”
“Whatever,” Adam grumbled as he rolled his eyes. He tossed the magazine at Joshua and stormed out of the kitchen.
The four of us were silent and Joshua finally said, “I miss the old Adam.”
“Me, too,” Heath admitted. “I don’t like this one.”
“I know, baby.” I hugged Heath to my side. “All of us are dealing with it in a different way and Adam’s grief is coming out as anger. We just have to stick by him and help him if we can.”
“I don’t like being around him anymore.” Joshua picked up the magazine and tried to smooth out the picture on the front cover that had been crumpled when Adam hit him in the chest with it. “I just try to stay as far away as I can.”
“He’s still your brother, sweetheart,” I told Joshua as I let Heath go and moved over to him. I put my hands on his shoulders and smiled down into his face. Not too far down, because Joshua was tall - just an inch or two shorter than my 5’7”, but I relished those few inches because he was still my little boy in my heart. “The best thing any of us can do is love him through it. Now you guys want to go outside for a bit and roam while I unpack a few more kitchen boxes and start dinner?”
“Yeah,” Heath said as he walked toward the front door. “I saw some guys playing basketball down the street. Josh, you want to come see if they’re still outside?”
“Yeah,” Josh started to move away and I dropped my hands from his shoulders.
“Stay close enough to hear me call,” I told them. From our experience, my whistle could be heard for about a one block radius and they knew that. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to come wash up.”
“Are you bringing the other cars home?” Josh asked me. One of the boys’ chores was to help me maintain our vehicles and they all three enjoyed that.
“No,” I told him. “Just the Camaro and the bike for now. I’m going to swap the Yukon out of the garage and put the Camaro and the bike inside instead. Let the beast take the weather and the girls live inside.”
Neva laughed knowing I loved my Yukon, but I loved my Camaro and my Harley more. I had other vehicles and now they were each in their own sealed storage container on my dad’s property.
“There’s plenty of room in the garage for those two and my Bug, but not if the beast is inside,” Neva laughed. “It’s like driving around in a tank compared to my baby.”
The boys and I had refurbished a convertible 1972 Volkswagen Beetle for Neva a few years ago and she treated it like she should, as if it was her baby.
“Speaking of which, it’s almost time for a tune-up,” I reminded her. “Once we get everything settled in around here, the boys and I will tackle that.”
“It’s kind of awesome having my own personal team of mechanics,” Neva laughed as we watched the boys run across the lawn and pick up the bikes that they had dropped earlier in the grass by the sidewalk. “Damn, they’re growing so fast.
“Yeah, another few months and Joshua will be looking me in the eye. It’s bad enough that Adam’s already passed me, but now Joshua, too? I feel like a little person.”
“5’7” isn’t that little,” Neva told me. “They all three outgrew me years ago.”
Neva was on the small side, a tiny little woman who seemed almost frail until you got to know her. She’d had health problems her entire life and had lived with Type 1 diabetes since she was a small child. She regulated her blood sugar militantly and followed all of her doctor’s advice, so she was actually very healthy, considering.
When I first met Neva, I tiptoed around the fact that she always carried around a small bag of diabetic supplies and might have to give herself a shot at any time. The boys and I were so used to watching her inject herself that we didn’t even pause now, but we were all mindful of her health anyway.
I also shopped for groceries and cooked as much as I could following her strict diet, and she often told me how thankful she was for that. She had explained that sometimes diabetes could be a lonely disease, especially when the people around you were enjoying pastries and sweets, but you couldn’t have any for yourself.
Neva had a good outlook on her disease like she did the rest of her life. It didn’t control her and she casually cracked jokes about it. Just to be dramatic and to feel a little like she fit in, she occasionally drank ice water out of a wine glass and referred to it as if it was the real stuff.
“You know what?” I turned to Neva. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight. Dad told me about a new restaurant that opened here in town that has healthy vegetarian options along with everything else. I bet we could find some yummy stuff for you there. Let’s try it.”
“I’m in,” Neva smiled. “We’ll knock out a few more boxes while you finally tell me what happened the other night and then we’ll treat the boys to a meal out. Besides, we need to celebrate that tomorrow is your first day at the new job.”
“I still don’t want to talk about it,” I told Neva. In the six days since my wild night with the neighbor, I had avoided anything to do with him. I even went out of my way to come down our street from the other end so I didn’t have to drive by his house. I hadn’t talked to Neva about what had gone on and for a day or two, she hadn’t realized how late, or early depending on the way you looked at it, I’d stayed at his house.