Page 40 of Bred By the Minotaur
While I’m watching Milo, I’m rarely back at my sister’s house except to make meals and do a few chores. I’ve taken to sleeping over at Hank’s so Milo’s not alone, and the break is much needed—for both of us. Already, she seems happier, more cheerful, more fun.
That’s when I’m certain of it: we can’t live together anymore if we want to preserve our relationship.
Since I can’t leave Milo at home alone, I bring him with me when I carry food over to Sandra, and he’s adorably shy at first. She doesn’t like his bare hooves tromping all over her carpet, but she manages to restrain herself from saying anything despite the dark look she shoots his little feet.
“I’m Sandra,” she introduces herself from the couch. “Phoebe’s little sister.”
Milo approaches uneasily, his hands tucked behind his back. “I’m Milo.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, standing very close to me. I didn’t realize he had this tentative, shy side because he’s never showed it to me before. “My dad is Hank.”
Sandra smiles a friendly smile and offers him a seat on the couch while she eats her dinner. She’s sweet as she asks him questions about himself, what he likes to do, how he’s enjoying kindergarten. Slowly he opens up, and by the end of our visit, he’s bouncing around the living room telling Sandra all about Darla.
And I love getting to spend this kind of time with him. He can be too chatty sometimes, but it’s cute, like a little train that can’t stop moving no matter what gets in the way. He has a creative mind, always dreaming up silly stories about his drawings.
I’m actually quite sad when Hank’s mother gets home from the airport and heads over to the house to see Milo. I was enjoying our time, just the two of us. And Hank’s still at work, so I’m nervous about meeting her by myself.
What does she think of me? I work at DreamTogether. She knows purely by Milo’s existence who I am to Hank, and who he is to me.
Embarrassing.
Milo and I are in the living room watching a cartoon when the door opens, and a singsong voice calls out, “Milo, I’m back!”
Milo leaps off the couch and sprints to the front door. “Grandma!”
I follow him into the entryway, where he’s clutching her legs and hugging her. Unlike Hank, who’s splotched all over, his mother is mostly brown with only a few small spots of white on her nose and hands. She’s graying around her mouth and cheeks, as well as in her brown hair. Her horns are much smaller, and she’s dressed in a tropical skirt and blouse.
“How was the Bahama-mamas?” asks Milo, finally releasing her.
“Warm,” she says. “Very warm. Grandma had lots and lots of mojitos.”
“Mowi-what?”
She just grins down at him. “Grandma had a good time.”
When at last her eyes meet mine, I offer her a small wave. “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”
She smirks. “I know. Hey, Milo? Why don’t you go grab your latest drawings to show me?”
He bounces on his hooves. “Yeah!” Then he runs off up the stairs.
“Thank you for watching him while I was gone,” Hank’s mother says, offering me her hand. “I’m Imelda, by the way.”
I shake it. “It’s good to meet you.”
We walk into the living room together, where she gestures for me to take a seat. “I heard there was a kerfuffle with the nanny. I’m glad you were there to step in.”
I have to laugh. “Because you put my name on the fridge!”
Imelda winks just as Milo comes barreling into the room again, a bunch of papers clutched in his hands. He spreads them out on the coffee table in front of his grandmother and starts showing off his new version of Darla as Spiderman’s cat.
“Oh, wow, this is good, Milo,” she says, and she’s not just doing kid-sweet-talk voice.
“Phoebe showed me how to do it!” he exclaims. “She’s really good at drawing.”
Imelda shoots me a curious look. “Is she?”
“I’m a graphic artist and designer,” I say. “It’s what I do all day.”
“I see. What about DreamTogether?”
