The Witching Hours, page 2
“Let’s negotiate.” As the oldest, Blake often took charge. He said this like he was forty and not twelve.
She laughed quietly while she considered how to respond. There were plenty of times when she thought the best parenting choice was brushing off and airing out the old standbys like, “Because I said so.” But she also believed there situations that called for creativity and forging new approaches. In this case, Brigid was a little impressed and a lot amused.
“Negotiate?” Even the youngest, Kenny, stopped and was paying attention, curious to see how this was going to go. “We have a tradition of taking turns on movie decisions. If you’re suggesting something different, I need to hear some sound reasoning why.”
Blake pulled himself up to his full height of five feet six, which happened to be Brigid’s height as well. She found that interacting with a child whose eye level was the same as hers was beyond odd. It required a major shift in perspective and a constant internal mantra reminding her that, just because he looked almost grown, didn’t mean he was almost grown. It was all the more shocking because the exaggerated growth seemed to have happened overnight. He’d needed new clothes three times in eight months.
“The three of us are not the same age,” Blake said.
“Hmmm,” Brigid responded. “I noticed that.”
“Yeah. So, we don’t like the same things.”
“You don’t like any of the same things?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. There’s some stuff we all like.”
“And?”
“It makes more sense to pick something we all like instead of making Judd and me watch some baby thing.”
That was all it took to spur Kenny to action. His face turned red at the same time he lunged and pushed his oldest brother with both hands. “I’m not a baby, moron cheese.”
Blake’s much bigger body wasn’t moved by Kenny’s all-out assault. Instead, he laughed and repeated what had just been said like it was ridicule. “Moron cheese?!?”
Judd was standing far enough away to be considered more onlooker than participant, but when he surrendered to laughter, he’d as much as picked a side. The oldest two had officially ganged up on Kenny.
“Stop!” Brigid gave the oldest two a warning with her practiced mom look. “Kenny,” she said, “we don’t call people morons or cheese, and we don’t start fights.”
Kenny looked at her like she was crazy. “Yes, we do! All the time!”
Brigid did her best to hide her smile. “Well, you’re right. I misspoke. Your brothers engage in that behavior sometimes, but that doesn’t make it right and it is against the rules.”
“You always take Blake’s side!” Kenny said.
Kenny threw himself into a sitting position on the second step of the staircase, crossed his arms, and gave Blake a dirty look. If she had to describe her boys in one word, she would’ve said Blake was her leader, Judson was walking charisma, and Kenny was a fighter. It was a good thing he was born last or there’d be even more trips to the first aid cabinet. Or worse, urgent care.
Just to reassure herself that Kenny’s accusation of favoritism wasn’t true, in an instant Brigid rewound years of history refereeing the boys. It didn’t take long to put the claim to rest. “That isn’t true, Kenny. It just seems like that to you when you don’t get your way,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? Then why didn’t Blake get in trouble for calling me a baby?” Kenny protested, face still red.
He had a point.
“I didn’t call you a baby. I said you’ll pick a baby movie, and we shouldn’t have to watch it,” Blake corrected.
Once again Kenny launched himself through the air like he was a missile aimed at Blake. Blake caught Kenny and restrained him in a bear hug. The fact that Blake laughed while doing so made Kenny wild with rage.
Brigid sighed. “Blake. Let go.”
He did so instantly. Brigid took charge of Kenny physically and set him back on the next to last step on the stairs. “No matter what your brothers say, stay there. Got it?”
Kenny looked at his mother like she was the definition of traitor.
To Blake, she said, “Kenny is right. You provoked this incident by making fun of his choices. At another time, when cooler heads prevail and everyone can control their impulses, we’ll revisit the tradition of rotating movie choice. For tonight, the two of you,” she pointed at Blake then Kenny, “will be content to enjoy whatever movie Judson picks.”
Judson was the closest thing to peacemaker. She knew he’d try to choose a movie that both his brothers could manage to endure if not enjoy.
Brigid listened to the protests she left behind on her way to the kitchen. Catching a random glance at herself in the hall mirror brought home the realization that she hadn’t showered or changed clothes for three days. It would have to get much worse before her boys would notice or care, but she was ashamed to take such little pride in herself. If her mom was alive, Brigid would get a “talking to” for certain. Even financially ruined widows must adhere to minimum standards of hygiene. Perhaps she could sneak away once the boys were enthralled by Transformers or Witcher or Percy Jackson.
Pulling her i-phone out of her pocket, Brigid found Pepe’s Pizza in contacts and speed dialed the number. She briefly wondered if having Pepe’s Pizza on speed dial meant she was a bad mother and vowed to increase the fruits and vegetables consumed in the household. That was followed by the thought that fruits, veggies, and meats that don’t contain antibiotics and growth hormones cost more than carbs. That was followed by scant recollections of her sixth-grade nutrition lesson. She’d paid close enough attention to know that raising boys on pizza was bad. With a sigh she dialed the number then set a short stack of plates on the kitchen island.
“I’m setting the house alarm,” she told the boys. “You know the drill. Don’t open doors or windows.”
An hour and a half later, she’d eaten like a coed, lathered three times in the shower to make up for the days she’d impersonated a blob, and emerged with happy skin cells, shiny hair, and laundered clothes. She didn’t want to let herself admit that anything in life felt good. After all, her husband had just died three months before. She wasn’t supposed to feel good about stuff. But it was undeniable. Cleanliness really was next to godliness.
The movie had ended, and the boys were fighting over whether they’d watch another movie or use the big screen TV to play video, leaving Kenny out.
“Hold it right there,” she said in her best authoritative voice. “Turn it off. Let’s play a game before bed instead.”
“A game?” Blake looked at his mother like she’d lost her mind.
She chuckled. “I’m sure you remember how. Go open the window seat and pick a board game we can all play.”
“Mom,” Kenny said, “games are lame.”
“So are poets,” Judd laughed and threw a pillow at Kenny.
“I don’t care,” she said. “Break is almost over. You’re going back to school on Monday and, when you do, games won’t be an option. Homework will be your master.” Waiting for the groans to die down, she said, “So let’s play while we can. Not Monopoly. Takes too long.”
After listening to them argue for three minutes, she said, “Smallworld.” They stopped. And as they stared at her she could see wheels turning. Each was trying to come up with an argument why not. Kenny was too young. It was best with three players. The cop’s head was missing. It was stupid.
Finally, Blake gave her a break and pronounced it, “Okay.”
The boys had more fun than they’d expected, and Brigid felt like she’d partially made up for being a go-eat-pizza-and-watch-a-movie kind of mom. Win all around. It was a feel-good moment that was hard to come by these days. But once the boys were in bed, a pall seemed to fall over the house that might not be theirs much longer. That thought caused her to move a little slower and, when things got quiet, she was left thinking about a future without Steve.
She trudged back to the study and sat down at Steve’s desk then wondered if she would always think of it as Steve’s desk.
There was no part of her that believed staring at the bills would change anything. Perhaps if she plunged into the slow-moving ruination of her family’s prospects, a solution would present itself. She relit the fire, turned on some quiet music that reminded her of Steve, and glanced at the wall to her left that housed the bank of exterior cameras.
He’d loved knowing what was going on outside, feeling like he was keeping his family safe. Every angle of the outside of the house was available on the twelve cameras. She could select any one and zoom in if she liked. It was a nice feature. Brigid supposed his obsession was a result of being in the insurance business and seeing, day after day, all the things that could go wrong in the world.
So why did he forget life insurance?
She and the boys would almost surely land someplace that had no security feature of any kind. She wouldn’t even have the comfort of knowing she wasn’t the only adult in the house. Steve wasn’t the ex-special forces type, but he had gone to Connecticut on football scholarship and she would’ve felt safe in the house even without cameras and alarms.
Staring at static camera angles was an even bigger waste of time than staring at bills. So, she opened them, one by one, continuing to hope that there was some equation, some force of will, some bargain, that could prevent her boys from having the world drop out from under their feet. They’d lost their dad. It would be bad enough if she could contain the loss to that without losing everything else that was familiar.
When she opened her eyes, what she saw was the bank of cameras oriented on its side. Her head was resting on one arm on Steve’s desk while Blake tried to jostle her awake. “Mom. Mom.”
The ever-vigilant, ever-ready mom in Brigid sat straight up. “What is it, hon?”
“I think Kenny’s sick.”
Rising without a word, she headed straight for the stairs that led to the three bedrooms upstairs and ascended quickly. She was thirty-seven, but did regular Pilates, and twice-a-month kickboxing. Steve had loved that she worked in a little time for self-defense and muscle tone. As she hurried through the game room that held the ping pong table Steve had given it to himself two Christmases before under the guise of a “family present”, she asked Blake, “Why do you think he’s sick?”
“He came to my room. He’s hot.”
Kenny was still in Blake’s room. He’d crawled into his brother’s bed and gone back to sleep.
Brigid knelt and put her hand on her baby’s rosy cheek. “You’re right,” she said to Blake. “Would you get me the thermometer?”
As Blake rushed away, Kenny roused and said, “Mom?”
“Right here, sweetheart.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“I know. We’re gonna get you fixed up though.”
“Kay.”
Blake was back in an instant holding out the thermometer. What would she do without him? She realized she’d been relying on him a lot since Steve passed. She made a mental note to refrain from shifting too much responsibility onto him. He was only twelve. Even if he was big.
Looking at the thermometer, she announced, “A hundred and two.” To Blake she said, “I’m going to take him downstairs to my bed. Go wash your hands and don’t touch anything. I’m going to change your sheets before you go back to bed, but I need to give Kenny some medicine first.”
“Okay,” he said.
She carried Kenny downstairs and put him under the covers on Steve’s side of the bed, gave him two baby Aspirin and some Pedialyte, then went back upstairs to change Blake’s sheets.
“Did you wash your hands?” she asked Blake. He nodded. “Okay. Go on back to bed.” He turned away. “Thank you for coming to get me. You did good.”
“You don’t have to thank me. He’s my brother.”
On impulse Brigid grabbed Blake and pulled him into a big hug, forgetting that she had Kenny’s germs all over her. Blake was a good kid. Maybe she was doing some things right.
“Mom!” Blake pretended to protest. His meaning was clear. Twelve-year-old boys were way past hugs from Mom.
“It’s just between us. I’ll never tell a soul I hugged you.” She smiled. “Heaven forbid.”
She put Blake’s sheets and her clothes into the washer and started a load with hot water. By the time she crawled into her side of the bed, she was half asleep. When she reached over and touched Kenny, it felt like he was warm, but no longer hot. That was the last thing she remembered before Blake was shaking her shoulder.
“Mom. Mom. Auntie Grace is here.”
“What?” Brigid sat up, but was mostly asleep.
“Auntie Grace’s here. Should I let her in?”
“Of course. Auntie Grace is the exception to every rule. Turn off the alarm first.”
He ran off to do just that. By the time Grace arrived in the bedroom, Brigid was on her feet going for more baby Aspirin and Pedialyte.
“What are you giving him?” Grace said even though she could see for herself. Brigid opened her mouth to give the obvious answer, but Grace interrupted. “Oh my God, Brie. You look like hell.”
“Nice of you to come all this way to reinforce my self-esteem. Everybody looks like hell at this hour.”
“If I could’ve got you on the phone, I would’ve. Did you forget to pay the bill? Blake’s number isn’t working either.”
Alarm shot through Brigid.
Oh, God. It’s started.
“I, uh, didn’t forget. Exactly.”
“I’ll make coffee and maybe get some eggs going while you brush and peepee.”
Brigid shook her head. Sometimes Grace, who was two years older, made her feel like she was still seven, but Brigid always got back at her. As Grace grew, her name had become a running joke because she was the opposite of graceful and often called names like klutz at school. It was all good-natured though. What Grace lacked in coordination, she made up for in generosity toward everyone and bighearted loyalty to her family. She’d been a lifeline since Steve had passed, but Grace had never asked if they were going to be okay financially and Brigid hadn’t volunteered that the future looked grim.
Grace’s husband was a firefighter. A big jolly guy who should be nominated for father of the year to their thirteen-year-old twin girls. Grace’s family was middle class. They got by on love, prayers, and her part time job at a non-profit animal rescue. Brigid had once asked what Grace would be if she could be anything. Without hesitation her sister said she’d want to be a veterinarian. Brigid didn’t know if it was better to work in close proximity to a dream that would never be realized, but Grace wasn’t a complainer.
“You hungry?” Brigid asked Kenny after he took his aspirin and drank his Pedialyte. He shook his head and fell back against the pillow. “Okay then. I’m gonna leave the bell right here. Ring if you change your mind.” She’d retrieved the small silver bell the family used in times of sickness to call the resident nurse, aka Mom. She could chart progress by the number of rings. When her patients started feeling better the rings became more insistent and closer together. It was kind of a game to make Mom come and go. “I can make you pancakes bananas and chocolate syrup.”
The fact that he showed no sign of interest in pancakes with bananas and chocolate syrup was the surest confirmation that Kenny was not himself. After donning the clothes she’d put on after her shower the day before, she went straight to the kitchen.
“What are you doing here, Grace? Wait. Rewind. What I meant to say was, don’t you work today?”
Grace was nodding as she scrambled eggs and turned bacon. “Yeah. I do. But when I can’t reach my family on the phone, that takes priority.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No need. Anybody can forget to pay a bill. But when you do, I’m gonna have to come see what’s up. Right?”
“Right. Um. Thank you.”
“Sit down there.” Grace nodded toward a chair. When Brigid sat, she put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. That was followed by a cup of hot coffee, two Splendas, half a teaspoon of Hazelnut creamer.
The feeling of being taken care of was so overwhelming, Brigid almost burst into tears.
“Blake! Judson!” Grace yelled. “Soup’s on.”
The boys appeared immediately in pajamas and ran to sit in their places at the table.
“I don’t see any soup,” Judd teased.
“It’s an expression,” Grace replied predictably as she pulled biscuits out of the oven and tossed them into a basket for the table. “But if I did make soup, you would slurp it down and you would like it. You would say, ‘Gosh, Auntie Grace. This is the best soup of all soups ever made in the history of the universe.’”
Judd chuckled as he crammed a biscuit into his mouth. He liked his no-nonsense auntie.
“Judson!” Brigid said. “Don’t eat Grace’s beautiful breakfast like a wild animal.”
“I’m hungry.” Judd justified without apology.
“You’ll get just as full if you eat biscuits one bite at a time and not one biscuit at a time.”
“What if Blake eats them all first?”
“Then I’ll make more,” Grace interjected.
That seemed to satisfy him.
When Blake and Judd had finished scarfing down their food like wolves, Grace said, “Boys. Go get dressed for playing outside.”
“We want to play video games,” Blake said. Judd nodded his agreement.
“Too bad. Outside is calling. You can play video games later,” Grace said.
They both looked at Brigid to see if their mom would have her sister’s back. Brigid gave them a small smile. The impudence wasn’t cute, but the gambling was. Sort of. “You know what I’m gonna say.”
They both left the kitchen making a big show of grumbling with shoulders hunched over.
“When did boys decide going out to play was a punishment?” Grace asked.
Brigid took a sip of coffee before saying. “Technology.”
