Page 6 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Byron grinned like he’d carried Theo for forty-one weeks himself. “Ladies’ man in the making.”
Ugh, fathers and their weird projections. Celene rocked Theo’s weight where she sat, carefully switching the leg he rested on every so often. She placed a hand on his healthy, cushiony thigh. “He’s a sentient teddy bear with Vale eyes.”
She couldn’t believe Byron managed to have a fourth baby before Celene decided whether she wanted children at all.
Her dad got along with anyone and fit in no matter where. Which tracked since he’d done aGene-y From The BlockDNAtest, and all continents save Australia and Antarctica were represented in equal measures.
With his thick hair, an angled jaw, and confidence for miles, Byron didn’t lack for action.
And his type? Woman.
First, he’d married Edna, a Brazilian-American mathematician, with whom he had Celene and Elise. Dating Lonnie, a white mechanic, resulted in Donovan—and eventually another divorce. Years of on-and-off dating followed, until he moved up the borough and fell instantly for Shanice, a Harlem native and pageant winner whose industrial-grade breast pump could be heard from the bathroom.
“Tell me when you want me to take him,” Byron murmured, scratching at his chest.
Celene’s stiff, unaccustomed-to-infants position would leave her back aching, but she chose to hold on longer. “Maybe when he’s asleep.”
What could she and Theo possibly have in common with this inordinate age gap? Would they ever hang out? Not feel like aunt and nephew? She couldn’t picture herself showing up to his future elementary school like, “I’m his ancient sister.”
As she acknowledged his chubby cheeks and the hand death-gripping her arm were pretty cute, this whole situation embarrassed her. She’d never expect perfect dynamics from the Vales, but this caveat exemplified why she traveled. Her love life ended in quiet chaos; family wasloudchaos.
Nevertheless, Theo’s eyes closed as soon as Shanice glided back into the room, collapsing into an armchair. Chancing a sip of her coffee, Celene tuned into the conversation at hand. About the Vales’ summer house in the Poconos.
It sounded too bougie to know there was a full-on house sitting there year-round, uninhabited. More use came of it while Celene and her adult siblings were children, but lately, Byrongrew conflicted about what to do with it. On one hand, he could just shove it into an investor’s arms, but after all the money he’d spent upgrading the essentials—heat, the roof, electricity, plumbing—he refused to let go. The drive to Pennsylvania wasn’t the most convenient, and he’d gotten spoiled by his amenity-rich home with Shanice.
Edna had washed her hands of it since their failed rekindling. Lonnie stayed there on two occasions before moving states away. And the Vale children...
“Don says he’s not into all the painting, refinishing, you know...” Byron shrugged, his point further proven by Briana nodding through a loud yawn. They were too tired as it was. “Celene, you visited it last year.”
“I did.” That doubled as the day she’d met with Quinn for the apology. Celene had scaled the perimeter of the unremarkable 1980s-style house and didn’t bother to venture inside. “It needs a lot of work, Dad. You should sell and make it someone else’s problem.”
“It’s a great space,” Edna said more to the magazine than to anyone specific.
“You can wait for the market to work to your advantage,” Shanice chimed in. “But yeah...we don’t have the bandwidth to restore it.”
“Man.” Byron drew a dispirited face, the skin around his mouth pronounced. “It’s a shame to throw out all those memories from Celene, Elise, and Don’s childhoods.”
“Those memories live on, though. You carry them in your heart.” Shanice’s optimism was admirable, but misguided. Any heartwarming summer memories had been locked away before Celene turned twelve, in the wake of her parents’ second break-up.
Grasping for anything, Byron said, “Elise wants to keep it.”
“She doesn’t want todealwith its challenges,” Edna emphasized, as if it meant something deeper. She retied her robe’s sash. “And Big J’s half-hearted about it, too.”
Celene hushed her embarrassment for Theo’s benefit. “Big J? Mom, why are you calling him that?”
“It’s his nickname.”
“New rules, then,” Byron interjected, knocking the recliner arms with his knuckles. “All renovations would come out of my pocket. I’d fund everything.”
Met with averted gazes and renewed interest in empty cups, he backed off. As he’d done the last three times he’d raised the subject. “I just assumed. Elise and Big J could use it as a romantic getaway. Don and Bri’s girls—as energetic as they are—would appreciate its yard, the mountain air. Theo deserves some of those summer memories...”
Nobody budged. He grumbled, changing topics to the easiest one—the spectacular wedding. The room visibly relaxed, pivoting to standout moments, flavors, and silly moments Celene missed out on.
Celene had been missing out on a lot lately. She ran her palm over Theo’s warm back, accepting her inability to make an easy escape.
The most damaging part of losing Quinn wasn’t the breakup. Relationships end, as her father espoused. And the abandonment revealed more aboutQuinnthan Celene; she’d accepted that. What humiliated her was Quinn staying that long out of duty. Or pity.
Its effects trickled into the present day, like tonight, when Byron considered a future at the house for all his children except Celene.
