Page 68 of Vince
Sydney
“Wait up, Julia!”I holler as she rounds the corner on the bike path at the park. I decided I’d go for a run and kill two birds with one stone before heading back to Vince’s house for lunch. But the girl is faster than I realized. I kick it into high gear and catch up within a matter of seconds.
Julia’s giggle can be heard as soon as she spots me. “I’m right here, Sydney. I won’t go too far. Grownups worry a lot. I was riding like a rocket and couldn’t slow down.”
“You sure are fast. Are you sure you don’t have a superpower I’m not aware of?” I tease as she starts riding again.
“Nope… it’s just me. I can go fast.”
Julia’s freaking adorable as those eyes that remind me so much of Vince twinkle in delight. We continue along the path as she chatters about how she’s so much faster without training wheels. But that doesn’t hold her attention long because she suddenly talks about where she and Vince usually ride when he runs.
Knowing the path she’s talking about, I let her take the lead, and we chat about everything a three-year-old can imagine along the way. Sometimes, I have to stop running because she has me bent over in stitches as she explains the world through her eyes. One thing is certain through all of this—the Larson family is easy to like.
When we get back to their house, it’s time for lunch. Julia asks for a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. As I make it for her, I’m reminded of my time with Grams.
“You know, Jules, when I was your age, my grandma used to make this for me all the time. It was my favorite,” I say as I let her stir the soup on the stove. She insists her mom and Vince let her do it, and since I’m right here with her, and the handle is long, I allow it. God, how do parents let their kids do things like this? It makes me nervous as hell just thinking of all the possibilities of how they can get hurt.
“Really?” she beams. “It’s mine, too. Do you see her?”
“Grandma?” Well, I didn’t expect this. How do you talk about death to a three-year-old? I go with the truth. “Unfortunately, no. She passed away right before I came to college.” God, I hope she understands that much. I don’t want to have to explain much further.
To my utter shock, she nods in understanding and matter-of-factly states, “So did mine.”
Really? She must be mistaken. Vince hasn’t said anything about his mother dying. Hmmmm… maybe she doesn’t understand what I was saying after all. But God, what if that’s the reason he was looking for a place to think when he first arrived at CRU? Even though my mom and I’ve never been close, I can’t imagine losing her so early in life.
Julia says something, but I don’t quite hear it, and I’m pulled back to reality.
Shit. What did she say?
“… Is the sandwich ready?”
This isn’t a conversation we should be having, so I quickly flip the grilled cheese sandwich I have frying in another pan onto a plate for her. Eager to change the subject, I ask, “So, which way do you like your sandwiches cut—in the middle or diagonal?” I motion with my fingers to show her what I mean, and she smiles eagerly.
“Momma cuts them diagonal,” she beams. “We need spoons.”
As we sit at the table to eat, Julia wrinkles her nose.
“What is it?” I ask while mentally listing off the things I could have forgotten.
“Your shirt is all sweaty like Unks when he runs. You forgot to shower.”
Looking down, I see sweat stains around my collar and under my armpits. I sniff and thankfully, my deodorant hasn’t expired… but she’s right. I do need a shower. “I’ll get one later.” I shrug, not knowing how I’ll get a shower in and babysit her at the same time.
“You can shower, and I watch a show?” she states, but it comes out more like a question.
“What do your mom and Vince do?”
She rolls her eyes as if I just asked the stupidest question on the planet. “Uh…if they stink, they shower. I watch my show on Unks’ bed, and I promise not to leave the room when he’s in the tub.”
I can do that. I brought a change of clothes… and a shower sounds much better.
“What’s your favorite show?” I ask as she takes a big bite of her sandwich, then turn to grab the soup I’d set on the counter.
With her mouth full of food, she answers anyway, “The Descendants. I want purple hair like Mal when I grow up.” When she finishes chewing, she adds, “Will you watch it with me?”
“Well, let’s hurry up and eat so we can.”
She may not get a nap in, but I’m sure after the ride we took, she could use the rest.
