“Lucy,” Drew says, bending to catch my eye like he knows my thoughts were starting to wander back down the dark tunnel to mopey-land. He points behind him to the steaming water. “Lather, rinse, and repeat. You’ll feel better. Promise.” He leans forward and gives a dramatic sniff. “Maybe even repeat a few times. Then move on to the toothbrush, because I think something crawled in your mouth and died.” Siblings are so sweet.
I punch him hard in the arm, and he just smiles like he’s happy to see me showing some signs of life. “But seriously, thank you,” I say quietly. “Thanks for taking me in too. You’re always rescuing me.”
The day I realized I was a week late for my period, Drew was the one who drove to the store and bought my pregnancy test. He’s the one who held me when I cried and told me that if I wanted to keep the baby, I wouldn’t have to go it alone because I’d have him (and then my parents quickly hip-checked him out of the way and reminded me I’d have them too). This is part of the reason I moved to Atlanta a year ago—not because I wanted to get away from them, but because I wanted to prove to myself I could stand on my own two feet and support my son.
Spoiler alert: I can’t.
I’m a twenty-nine-year-old single mom and an unemployed hairdresser (I got fired from the salon I was working at) who’s having to live with my older brother because I don’t have a penny in savings. Turns out, kids are mega-expensive. And when you choose to live away from your support system as a single parent, you have to put your child in daycare (which costs your arm), and hire babysitters when you want to go out on the weekend (which costs your leg), or hire a full-time nanny (which costs your soul).
Although Levi’s dad, Brent, pays child support, it’s just not quite enough to help me get ahead of bills and debt. Brent is not a bad guy or anything, and he’s even offered to pay extra to help give me a financial cushion, but for some reason, I’d rather start wearing tennis shoes without socks and selling them to people on the internet who want them extra sweaty before I take money from Brent. He’s always had too much emotional pull in my life. At one point, I might have dreamed of us actually becoming a family one day—but not anymore. Those dreams have long since evaporated, and now, any time he texts me after midnight saying something like Why don’t we ever get together, just the two of us?, I know better than to respond.
Drew gives me a soft smile and really doesn’t have to say anything because we have that sibling telepathy thing that lets me see inside his head. He speaks anyway. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah. Of course I would.” But I’d never need to because Drew has his life together 100 percent of the time.
He pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’re bummed, but I’m glad you’re home and you and that jackass broke up.”
And just like that, our sibling comradery vanishes and I’d like to kick him in the shins. I settle for pushing out of his hug. “He wasn’t a jackass!”
“Yeah, he was. You just need some space from him to see it.”
“No, Andrew, he just wasn’t smooth and super cool like you assume you are, and that’s why you didn’t like him. But he wasn’t a jackass.”
I really don’t know why I’m defending Tim so much. I wasn’t in love with him or anything. In fact, that’s why we broke up. There was no spark, and we were basically friends who kissed (and not all that often). I’d never even introduced him to Levi because somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew our relationship wasn’t going anywhere.
I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I only dated him because he was there and available. I was new to Atlanta, having taken an open position at a new salon, and he was one of my first clients. We hit it off, started dating (if you can even call it that since we barely saw each other due to me not having any friends or family around to help babysit), and, for a few months, fell into a comfortable pattern of going out on Saturday nights when I could afford to hire the sixteen-year-old down the street. She had a more active dating life than me, though, so I had to book her weeks out and pay her a fortune.
Then, the roommate I moved to Atlanta with got engaged to her boyfriend and asked to break our lease agreement early so she could move in with him. I, being a woman deeply afraid of confrontation, agreed wholeheartedly before remembering that I didn’t trust anyone else to live with me and my son. I tried to make it work financially on my own for a while, but then the burden just got too heavy. I was two months behind on rent, and then I lost my job at the salon because I continued to cancel on too many clients.
Did I mention it’s super hard to be a single parent without a nearby support system? Turns out, most bosses really don’t give a crap about your child at home with a stomach bug, and unable to go to daycare. They really only care that you didn’t show up to work and earn them the money they were counting on.
So, I got fired, and then the next week, Tim and I broke up, and then I got the official eviction notice from my landlord. I didn’t need any time to think about what to do. I called Drew and told him to come get me, and then I cut Atlanta off like a bad split end.
Now, I’m sad, but not because I miss Tim. I’m sad because I don’t miss Tim and my life feels like way more of a mess than it should at age twenty-nine. It’s like I’m mourning something I hoped could happen but didn’t.
“No,” says Drew, “I didn’t like him because when I came to visit and the three of us went to dinner, he said he was cold and accepted your sweater when you took it off and gave it to him.”
I feel a familiar defensiveness boil in my chest. “He has a thyroid problem and gets cold easily. And I told you, I wasn’t even cold!”
“Then why’d you take my sweatshirt after he took yours?”
“Because…” I drop my gaze, so he hopefully doesn’t catch my defeated look. “It had been six months since I’d seen you and I missed you?” I can’t let Drew know I also found Tim annoying at times or else he’ll add it to his ongoing list titled: Drew Knows Better Than Lucy. It is a solid list, though.
He doesn’t comment on my blatant lie. Just lifts a brow and points to the running water. “Stop stalling and take your shower. But make it quick or we’re gonna be late.”
Well, joke’s on him, because I don’t even want to go out with him and his buddy, and I don’t care one bit if we’re late. In fact, I feel like teaching my brother a lesson, so I take an extra-long time, reenacting every sad shower scene I’ve ever seen, letting the spray of the water rush over my face as sad music plays on the speaker in my bedroom.
Bang, bang, bang.
I jump out of my sopping wet skin and press myself back against the tile, certain I’m about to be murdered by a polite killer who likes to knock before he enters, but then Drew’s voice booms through the door. “I swear to God, Lucy, I will cut off the hot water if you don’t get out soon. Also, that’s enough Sarah McLachlan.” He turns off my Super Sad Mix and blares “Ice Ice Baby” as an overt threat.
Ah—so nice living together again.
I want to be furious with Drew, but instead, I’m using all my willpower not to laugh.
—
I’m a whiny baby all the way to the boat dock. The sun is too bright. My head hurts. There’s nothing good on the radio. Honestly, I’m surprised Drew didn’t unlock the doors, pull the handle, and push me out on the interstate. That’s what I would have done if the roles were reversed, because even I don’t want to hang out with me right now. Even so, he took my annoyance in stride, turning off the radio, giving me his sunglasses, offering to stop for Advil. Really, it’s suspicious how syrupy sweet my brother is being.
At the last minute, I even asked him if we could make a pit stop at our mom and dad’s house so I could check on Levi. Let’s be honest, Levi is with his two favorite people in the world, so he’s not missing me. My mom has probably fed him so many sugary treats he’s completely forgotten my name.
When the door opens and I see my little cutie, blond hair all askew in various cowlicks, eyes bright with sugar overdose, and white powder mysteriously coating his lips, my suspicions are confirmed.
I glance down at my child and then up at his grandparents standing at attention behind him, mischief written all over their faces. “This is a surprise drop-by…you know, to make sure everyone’s following the rules,” I say, drawling out the last word like I’m a detective tilting her aviators down, completely on to their tricks.
Both grandparents make a show of gulping nervously, and I abruptly drop down to get eye level with Levi. I reach out and run a finger across his top lip, bringing the powdered sugar close to my eye for inspection. “Mm-hmm…just what I thought. Donut residue.” He giggles and licks his lip nearly up to his nose to get every particle of sugar he can. I taught him well.
My mom puts her hand on Levi’s shoulder and squeezes. “Stay strong, buddy.”
I narrow my eyes up at my mother (also my favorite person in the world) and shoot to my feet, getting in her face like a drill sergeant. “How many?” My voice growls menacingly. Levi giggles again, and I glance down at him. “Do you think this is funny, little man?”
“Mom, you’re so silly.”
“How many?” I repeat again to my mom, undeterred by the adorable chunky-cheeked boy. She lifts her chin and makes a show of pressing her lips closed. “I see…that’s how it’s going to be? Fine. I know who to go to when I want the truth.”
“Luce, come on, we gotta go,” Drew says, sounding a little impatient behind me. Someone has lost his funny bone.
I hold up my finger behind me in his direction and shush him before taking a slow step directly in front of my dad. His eyes widen, and I know he’ll be an easy crack. “So, Mr. Marshall, are you going to talk, or are we going to have to do this the hard way—”
“THREE!” he blurts, and then my mom shoots him the stink eye.
I grin and push my imaginary glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “Thought so. Sir, ma’am, do you happen to know the effects too much sugar has on—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because Drew picks me up over his shoulder and starts carrying me away. “Bye, guys,” he says with a smile and wave. “We’ll have our phones if you need us.”
“WAIT! Let me at least kiss my child goodbye, you oaf.”
He pauses and backs up a few steps, bending down so I’m lowered to lip level with Levi. He laughs and laughs at the sight of me on “Uncle Drew’s” shoulder, so much so that I’m barely able to plant a kiss on his sugary cheek from all his giggling.
“Love you, baby. Be good for Grammy and Grandad,” I tell him, feeling my heart squeeze a little painfully at the thought of leaving him again. Other than the times I had to work, Levi and I haven’t spent much time apart this last year. Although I’m happy to see him reunited with family, I also have this strong desire to stay close to him. Plus, stuffing my face with donuts sounds infinitely better than going out with Drew and his buddy on the boat.
“Have fun, you two,” say my parents, breaking character to wrap an arm around each other and wave as Drew walks us away and deposits me in the front seat of his car.
After our twenty-minute drive, we pull into the marina, and I take my sweet time getting out of the car. Maybe if I move slow enough, he’ll leave me behind and just let me curl up in a depressed ball under a tree somewhere.
He can see right through my shenanigans. “Dammit, Lucy, do I have to drag you onto the boat too? You’re going on the lake, because you need this whether you can see it or not. Quit being a pain in the butt and get moving.”
“What happened to Mr. Congeniality from the car ride?” I ask, getting out and slamming my door shut.
