Page 49 of Minted

The smiles slide off the girls’ faces.

“You can be mad at me, and that’s alright. I can take it, but I might get a little frustrated too, from time to time.” I sigh. “I’m sorry that I snapped. I promise that I’ll be honest with you, no matter what, and I know it’ll be hard, but I hope that someday, you can be a little more honest with me. I can’t help you unless I know what you need, and I’ll keep doing things wrong unless you tell me how to do them right.”

Nikki’s mouth wobbles and she sniffs. At least the China-doll smiles are gone.

“Your mom died?” Ricki’s eyes have welled up with tears.

I nod. “I’m an old lady, so I know it’s not the same, but last year, my mom suffered a stroke, and she didn’t recover. She had another one a few days later, and she slipped into a coma.”

Ricki rushes at me, and I’m worried she’s going to hit me.

But she hugs me instead.

“Oh.” Now I’m crying, too.

“I’m sorry.” Nikki’s kicking at the floor, at nothing on the floor, as far as I can tell. But when she glances up, she’s crying too.

“It’s alright,” I say. “It still hurts, more some days than others, and you may see me crying sometimes, but it gets a little bit easier every week.”

Ricki’s holding me so tightly that I worry about the circulation in my legs a little.

“We do like Chinese food,” Nikki says quietly. “And we like Italian, too.”

“Maybe we can get Chinese tonight.” Ricki finally releases me. “Beef and broccoli is my favorite, and Nikki likes orange chicken, as long as it’s not too spicy.”

“What about egg rolls?” I ask. “Because if you don’t like sweet and sour sauce, I may have to rethink having you living here with me. You might be aliens in human suits.”

They both laugh. And as we sit and eat Chinese food together, neither of them talk about the tree, or Christmas, or their mom, but they do smile. And they do talk about school a little, and they tell me about a tennis match where they destroyed the two girls who were supposed to win the whole tournament.

It’s a start.

Which is better than the slamming door I faced earlier.

It’s a little surprising to me that our start came after I snapped at them, but I think it’s because I was real. Whatever else we feel as humans, we can sense true authenticity. We can tell when someone’s being honest. It’s hard for us not to respond to that, at least in some way.

So when Nikki and Ricki have finished their homework, and they have both showered, and they’re ready for bed, I try to prepare them for tomorrow.

“I have a weird job,” I say. “Especially around Christmas, it means I have to attend a lot of client parties.”

“Oh.” Nikki frowns. “I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t have to,” I say. “My best friend—you guys can call her Aunt if you want—Seren’s coming over to be with you. She’ll make dinner and dessert—she’s an actual chef, so believe me when I say you’re in for a treat.”

“So you’re going alone?” Ricki asks. “Doesn’t your husband work with you?”

I wasn’t sure whether she’d remember that. I cringe a little. “He will be there, and he’s not super nice to me.”

“I hate him,” Nikki says. “Maybe I can go. They can’t get mad at a little kid for punching him in the nose, but I hit really hard.”

“She hit someone with a racket once, and she broke their nose,” Ricki says.

“It was an accident.” Nikki looks nervous.

“No one needs to punch him,” I say. “Although, the guy who’s going with me tomorrow did offer.”

“Is it the hot guy who brought the pizza?”

They think Bentley’s hot? “He’s forty,” I say. “He’s not hot.”

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