Page 32 of Irresistible Second Chance

“Dad, you’re terrible.”

He laughed, “I know.” He placed their bags inside the entryway, kissed each of them on the forehead, pat me on my shoulder and said, “Have fun, girls! Don’t give Auntie Sydney too much trouble.”

I could have been wrong, but he had some pep in his step as he made his way out. I closed the door behind him, and looked at my two nieces in front of me, “Would you girls like to help me make some cupcakes?”

Johnna began jumping up and down. “That sounds fabulous!”

“Yes, as long as they’re chocolate,” TJ said.

“I’m not sure if they’re chocolate, but we could always make brownies too.”

“Yes, cupcakes and brownies are my favorite!”

“I actually like vanilla better,” Johnna informed me in a low voice. “Chocolate is blah.”

“Vanilla is blah,” TJ said.

“You’re just saying that to be difficult,” Johnna shot back.

“Oh, stop trying to sound like mom,” TJ said, “You’re the one being difficult!”

I felt like they had probably had this argument more than one time and Starr had probably accused them of being difficult. I knew things could get heated quickly between the girls, so I distracted them with the promise of sprinkles and candy toppings. It worked and they stopped arguing and happily followed me into kitchen.

I honestly had no idea how to make brownies or cupcakes from scratch. I wasn’t a gifted baker like my mom had been, but I kept box mixes of various sweets in the house because I had a sweet tooth I gave into every now and then, and baking was kind of therapeutic for me.

We were in the middle of mixing ingredients together about to fill up our cupcake pans when TJ said suddenly, her voice full of worry, “Do you think mommy will be mad at me?”

“Mad at you? About what?” I asked. I was confused. We had just been talking about a movie related to video games I hadn’t played since I was a little girl. The change of subject gave me whiplash.

She put down the giant spoon she held in her little hand and looked sadly at me for comfort, “About my hair.”

Johnna who until then was trying to pour brownie batter into a different pan answered for me. “Yep. She’ll never let you have scissors again. That’ll teach you.”

TJ’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “But I need scissors! How am I supposed to cut things?”

“You should have thought about that before you cut your hair,” Johnna, ever the pragmatist, said unmoved.

TJ jumped down from the stool in front of the kitchen island, ran across the living room, tossed herself on the couch, and began to cry hysterically. I stared not really knowing what to do. Johnna looked at her sister, shrugged, and went back to carefully pouring her batter into a pan. I guess this wasn’t an unusual event.

I sighed, wiped my hands on my apron and made my way over to her. I started stroking her hair --- what was left of it. “Hey, don’t cry.” She started crying harder and tossed her arms out grabbed a pillow and dramatically cried into it.

“What should I do?” I stage whispered to Johnna who just ignored me as she was now humming to herself and happily adding chocolate chips to the brownies.

“I guess I’m on my own,” I said to myself.

Suddenly, I heard a giggle. TJ peeked at me from right beneath the pillow, “Are you talking to yourself? That’s so weird.”

I noticed her face was dry. Not a hint of a tear in her eyes. I guess she was all bark and no bite. Dad should have warned me.

“She talks to herself just like Granny,” TJ called to her sister as she sat up.

Johnna finally stopped what she was doing. I noticed that she was covered in chocolate. I guess she had helped herself to some chocolate chips while I wasn’t looking.

“Oh yeah!” she said, “Mommy said that Granny reminds her a lot of Auntie Sydney. They both talk to themselves and make noises when they eat.”

I didn’t know what was more upsetting, the fact that my sister thought I made weird noises while eating or that she was allowing Mom around her kids. I told myself that it wasn’t my business and to leave it alone. Starr could have a relationship with Mom, and they were mom’s grandchildren. Wasn’t it good that she wanted a relationship with them? I couldn’t answer that question. From experience, I knew nothing good would come from having a relationship with my mom.

I resisted the urge to call my sister and immediately give her a lecture on just how much of a bad idea it was for her to let her kids hang out with Mom. I hated that Mom had any contact with anyone in the family. Deep down part of me didn’t think she deserved to be acknowledged by us when she was the one who chose to leave. I knew that was a terrible way to feel but I couldn’t deny that that’s how I felt.

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