Page 5 of Perfect Pairing
“If we stop now, do you think you can last the rest of the way without going potty again?” I asked Hansen.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
My dad snorted, and I couldn’t help but grin. I had no doubt the kid was only telling me what I wanted to hear, but we were in the home stretch of our trip to our new life in Michigan. A moving company was bringing all of our belongings to our new home, and all we’d have to do when we arrived was unpack.
Following the signs, I turned left at the end of the exit and immediately pulled into a gas station parking lot, easing to a stop in a space alongside the building.
“You want to take him?” I asked my dad.
“Hell no,” he said. “I love that kid, but you’re on piss duty. I’ll keep an eye on the car.”
I rolled my eyes but got out and went around the back to free Hansen from his car seat.
“I gonna go potty,” he said as I grabbed his hand and walked us inside.
“Yeah, bud. You’re gonna go potty.”
“Are you gonna go too?”
I shook my head as we stepped inside the dimly lit restroom and locked the door before I bent to help him with his pants and underwear.
“Nope. This one is all you, kid.”
The problem with traveling and potty training a boy, I’d quickly come to learn, was that Hansen was too short to reach the toilet, which meant I had to hold him up and let him do his business.
Yeah, I had to hold him over the toilet so he could direct his little stream into the bowl instead of all over himself and the ground.
And who said parenthood wasn’t glamorous?
Once he finished, I helped him dress again then withdrew the bottle of hand sanitizer from my pocket and squirted some into his hands, which he enthusiastically rubbed together and said, “All clean!”
I laughed and grabbed his hand again, leading us back outside.
Five minutes later, we were back on the road.
We’d barely left our old life behind, but the more miles I put between my family and the city made the weight I’d been carrying lessen significantly.
My life may have been in shambles, the events of six months ago dragging me deep into a pit of despair I hadn’t been sure I’d ever find my way out of. But taking the first step into this new chapter was my way of digging myself out of that hole.
And for some reason, when we pulled up outside of our new home—a one-story Craftsman style on the edge of Apple Blossom Bay that had great bones and just needed some updating—I could already see the light.
“I can’t believe you’releaving me,” my sister Delia whined, throwing herself backward onto my bed.
I made a squeak of protest when she disrupted the carefully folded stacks of clothes I’d set out to pack.
“Excuse you,” Chloe protested. “You’re not the only one she’s leaving.”
I rolled my eyes. “At least you three will still have each other,” I said, gesturing to Chloe, Delia, and our other sister, Ella.
“Yeah, but it won’t be the same,” Ella murmured.
“It hasn’t been the same since Amara left,” I shrugged. “C’mon, you guys. Let’s not get all sappy here. It’s not like I’m moving to Europe like Mar did. I’m just going to Chicago.”
“Might as well be the other side of the world,” Delia pouted.
I picked up a sock ball and tossed it at her head. “God, you’re dramatic.”
Delia yelped, then lifted a rolled-up tee and whipped it at me.
