Page 3 of Vince
Vince
Within the hour,Jules and I have the chocolate cake in the oven, and we’re doing dishes. Well, I’m washing the dishes; she’s been scrubbing the same bowl for the last few minutes, using lots of soap and water. It’s a good thing I’m standing next to her, or we’d have to mop the floor, too.
She’s still got faint lines from the batter on her face as she diligently works at cleaning up our mess. Vanessa should arrive any minute with dinner, and Jules can’t wait to celebrate.
We’ve barely finished when the front door opens, and Vanessa calls out in the singsong voice she uses to get Julia’s attention. “I’m home. Anybody here?”
Julia squeals and rushes to greet her mom. “In here, Momma. Unks and I made cake. Do we have candles?”
I turn around the corner just in time to see Jules launch herself into Vanessa’s arms. The love they share for one another makes my chest constrict. I don’t know what I’d ever do without them.
Of course, I’ve been with Van since the womb. Thankfully, I’ve never had to live without her. She managed to beat me into the world by a whole seven minutes, a fact she’s never let me forget. I’ve always been her “little brother,” though I’ve towered over her in height our entire lives. I took after Dad, while she looks more like Mom.
“I’ve missed you, sweet girl,” Vanessa says as she squeezes Jules in a hug that wiggles her whole body, causing infectious laughter to spew from my niece.
When the laughter dies down, Jules squirms, letting it known it’s time to let go. The second her feet hit the floor, Jules reaches for Vanessa’s hand. “Come on, Momma. Let’s go see if the cake’s done.”
“Just a sec, Jules. I need to grab dinner.” I notice she’s already dropped bags of food on the entry table. I have no idea what she’s brought, but the smell has my stomach grumbling.
Before she can reach for the food, I intervene. “I’ve got the bags. The cake should be done any second. Let’s go pull it out.”
Maybe it’s a twin thing or the fact that we’ve lived together our entire lives, but after pulling the cake from the oven, Van and I work seamlessly to put dinner on the table. I love that Van’s brought home my favorite. Steak and mushrooms for the two of us and Julia’s favorite, homemade mac and cheese. As I help Vanessa plate our food, I notice a large side of steamed broccoli. A huge grin forms, knowing Jules’ reaction.
Without a doubt, Jules will eat every last floret she can get her hands on, especially if it has any amount of butter on it. I’m not sure which she likes more, the broccoli or the butter. If Van or I are to stand any chance of getting any, I dish us first. Maybe it’s a family trait, as we can’t get enough of it.
What’s funny is Mom wouldn’t be caught dead eating a green vegetable that wasn’t salad or green beans. But Vanessa and I devoured whatever vegetable Dad put in front of us. We’d always laugh at the faces she’d make as we wolfed down our veggies. That’s probably the only thing I ever saw my parents be so polar opposite about. Dad and his green veggies always got Mom grumbling.
Though it’s a happy memory, my chest tightens as I fight to recall exactly how disgruntled Mom used to act. I’m not so sure if she really felt that way, or it just became an expected behavior.
It’s funny how grief hits in the strangest of times. One minute, you’re reliving a happy memory; the next, it’s painful. Fuck… I can’t remember the exact sound of her voice.
“Unks, you’re gonna dish me more broccoli, right? You know I eat lots,” Julia interrupts my thoughts, and I’m thankfully brought to the present.
“Of course, squirt. How can I forget?” I tease as I put another huge helping onto her plate. Then I do the same for both Vanessa and me, making sure we get our share before she devours the rest. I’m certain she’ll eat more broccoli than mac and cheese tonight.
Just as we make it to the table and are ready to dig in, Vanessa opens Pandora’s box by asking Jules, “So, how was your day?”
Jules beams as she holds the bite of broccoli she’s forked close to her mouth. The overexuberance only a three-year-old can possess. “Great… You’re never gonna believe what happened at school today…” She takes a huge bite of broccoli, chews it fully, then proceeds to tell us every minute detail of her day. The girl must have a photographic memory or something because she’d put many college students to shame with the amount of detail she can describe about ordinary things.
We learn about Cyrus’s shoes being on the wrong foot, how Miss Shannon forgot who was supposed to be line leader, and it caused a fight between Grace and Eli. She also tells us about how she made an art project she couldn’t bring home tonight because it wasn’t quite dry.
This. Right here is what family’s all about.
I wouldn’t trade a moment for these experiences. Van and I interject when we can, but for the most part, we simply eat our meal and let her get her chatter out. It’s amazing how full of life and optimistic a three-year-old can be. They always tell it like it is, and you never have to doubt what’s on their mind.
Of course, with all her talking, Vanessa and I finish eating long before Julia. Eventually, Vanessa gets up and clears her plate while I do the same. Once Julia’s finished, she eagerly asks, “Can we have cake now?”
I feign shock, making my eyes go wide and my mouth drop open. “Just where are you going to put this cake, Jules? Do you have a hollow leg I don’t know about?”
This earns me another giggle and a dramatic eye roll. Yeah. She’s all Van in this moment, especially when she levels me with an expectant stare. “Unks. You know…” She pauses for exaggeration. “There’salwaysroom for cake.”
“If you say so…” I draw out sarcastically. “What do you say we frost the cake now that it’s cooled enough?”
Julia hops up from the table to clear her plate. Then rushes to her stool in the corner and drags it to stand at the counter with me. Taking the can of coconut-pecan frosting, I pull off the lid. Julia reaches for the frosting spatula we’d set out on the counter before dinner, loads it up, and plops the frosting in the center of the cake. Since the cake is still a little warm, it doesn’t spread as easily as it should, but Julia gives it her best effort. Thank goodness, we’ve kept the cake in the pan because at the rate she’s going, there’s no way it would spread all around the edges. But it’s not like either Van or I care. This cake is made purely with love from our favorite tiny baker.
Vanessa takes this time to wipe down the table and pull down some plates for cake. She finishes long before we’re ready for her. When she can’t take it any longer, she swoops her finger into the frosting and nabs a taste for herself. This, of course, earns her a disgruntled, “Momma. You gotta wait for us. No tasting the cake until we sing! It’s the rules, you know!”
“Hey, it’s my birthday,” Vanessa feigns defensiveness. “And I’m the oldest. I get to make the rules around here.”
