“I got an A on my spelling test!”
“Well, Tristan,” I hugged him again, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, “you’re the smartest kindergartener I know. Have you guys eaten?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
They shook their heads no and I sighed in disgust. If my mom didn’t have me…I feared what would happen to Ivy and Tristan.
“Come on then,” I stood taking each of their hands. “I’ll make us dinner. You guys can help me.”
“I like helping,” Tristan beamed up at me. His smile always managed to break my heart.
“I know you do,” I lifted him onto the counter and then did the same with Ivy. She was only three years older than Tristan, and getting a bit too big for me to be lifting her, but I didn’t mind. Most days, I felt more like their mother than their sister. I fed them. I bathed them. I packed their lunches. I looked after them. I loved them. It was more than my mom had ever done for them or me.
There wasn’t much food in the house so our options for dinner were limited.
“How’s macaroni sound?” I pulled out a box of Spongebob shaped noodles and shook the box.
“Yay!” They cheered. I was lucky that they were such easy to please kids.
I put water on to boil and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned against the counter. “Who’s going to pour the macaroni into the pot?” I asked.
Tristan enthusiastically raised his hand.
“It’s Tristan’s turn,” Ivy agreed with a sad shake of her head. “I did it last time.”
“That’s nice of you, Ivy,” I smiled at the little girl. “You can stir the cheese in. Would you like that?”
She brightened, smiling widely. Several of her baby teeth had fallen out, making her adorably awkward looking. “I’m a good stirrer.”
“Yes, you are,” I leaned over, kissing the top of her head.
“Row! Row! The water!” Tristan pointed enthusiastically at the water beginning to boil.
I opened the box of macaroni and removed the packet of powdered cheese. I handed him the box and lifted him onto my hip so he could pour the noodles into the water.
He watched in fascination as the bubbles hid the noodles from sight.
“How long till it’s ready? I’m hungry,” he pouted as I sat him back on the counter.
“Not long,” I assured him. “We’ll eat and then I’ll give you a bath and you can take a shower, Ivy.”
“I don’t want to,” Tristan groaned. “Baths suck.?
??
“You don’t want to be dirty, do you?” I tweaked his nose.
“I’d rather be dirty than wet,” he grumbled, crossing his small arms over his chest. His too small shirt rode up, exposing his stomach. I was going to have to start picking up some new clothes for him whenever I had some extra money.
“Stop whining, Tristan. You know it doesn’t work with me,” I warned him with a steely gaze.
His arms lowered and he let out a pent up breath. “Fine. Will you read me a story tonight?”
“Don’t I read you a story every night?” I countered with a raised brow.
“Yeah, but sometimes you fall asleep,” he giggled.
“Sorry about that,” I hung my head shamefully. I tried my best to be a parent for my siblings, but it was hard. I had school and work. When I got home it was late and I was exhausted. I wished I could afford for a babysitter to watch them, but I didn’t have the money…not if I wanted to buy food. I already had to pay for Tristan to stay in after school care since he was only there for half a day. My stepfather was just as bad, if not worse than my mom. He didn’t drink, but he constantly smoked in the house, had a lousy job, and was just plain creepy.
“It’s okay, Row,” Tristan opened his arms for a hug.