by S. E. Rose
“Well, this is gonna be fun to clean up,” I say to them. I grab a sponge from under the sink and cleaning spray. “Come on, let’s get this kitchen back in working order and then I’m buying us all waffles down at the café.”
“You’re on,” Lanie says as she helps Ash up and hands him a cloth and some cleaning spray. It takes the three of us thirty minutes to clean up the kitchen and another thirty minutes to shower and bathe Ash. But one hour later, we are finally presentable enough to go get some breakfast.
“Can we do that again?” Ash asks as we eat waffles.
Lanie laughs. “Maybe.”
“I like it here,” Ash announces, looking around the café.
“Me too,” I agree.
“Me three,” Lanie adds with a grin.
“Can we walk your parents’ dogs later?” Ash asks.
“OK. I’m sure they could use a walk,” Lanie says to him as she takes a bite of waffle.
“Can we get ice cream now?” Ash asks as he pops the last bite of the waffle into his mouth. There’s syrup on his chin. Lanie reaches over and wipes it away.
“That’s fine. I’ll call my mom now.”
“Yay!” Ash yells.
Lanie giggles and texts her mom.
“She says to come on over. You almost done?” she asks me.
“Maybe . . .” I say with a grin as I slowly bring the fork to my mouth.
“Brix! You have to eat faster!” Ash yells.
“OK, OK, I’m working on it,” I say with a laugh.
Lanie
Two minutes later, we are getting ice cream and walking to my parents’ house. It’s another unusually warm winter night here in Maryland. I suppose living here is sort of like city-living because you walk everywhere, but the town is the exact opposite of the big city. We say hello to at least a half dozen people as we walk along the side street. It might be getting dark out, but it’s still a nice night for walking with this unseasonably warm weather that we’ve been having lately. My parents always used to let us go out whenever we wanted. I once asked them why, and they said it was because so many people were always out and about here in Banneker that it would be impossible for any of us to get into trouble without someone seeing it.
Kent and Clark’s cars are parked in the driveway, which isn’t completely unusual. Between all five of us kids, there tends to be someone over here a few times a week. My parents’ home has always been filled with kids, their friends, and countless random people. At any one time, you might find our pediatrician, the high school principal, countless neighbors, or any other person that’s crossed paths with my parents sitting at their kitchen island or breakfast table. My mom seems to have a perpetual pot of coffee going. She has women from book clubs, our friends’ parents, and her childhood friends that pop in and out of the house as well. Dad, on the other hand, tends to keep to himself in the study when he’s not hanging out with friends and family. Mom’s always been the social butterfly, and my dad loves her so much he’d fill his house with strangers if it made her happy. I’m not sure how the two of them work as a couple, but I also don’t know how they could ever be without the other. They are the perfect example of yin and yang. Two opposites that just work. I hope that I can have that someday, a perfectly imperfect love with someone who accepts me and all my flaws.
Ash takes my hand as we walk up to the side door and into the house. Brix follows behind us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brixton
As we walk inside the house, I can hear a heated discussion between Kent and Clark.
“King Albert! But why? I mean, really, why?”
“Because a long time ago—remember Kenny from high school?—well, he wanted a piercing . . . ya know . . . and that’s what he named his . . . and we were drunk and discussing it and I was all like, fine, then mine is King Albert and . . . well, it stuck.”
“What’s that about King Albert, sweetie?” Mrs. Moore’s voice sounds from the stairs as she turns the corner. As we enter the kitchen, several things happen simultaneously. Lanie places her hands over Ash’s ears. Mrs. Moore repeats her question. And Kent turns red as Clark starts to explain.
“Did you know Kent named his penis?”
“Clark!” Mrs. Moore and Lanie both yell as Kent puts his hand over Clark’s mouth. I just bust out laughing as Ash looks up at me in confusion.
He tugs on my shirt, and I look down at him.
“Do you have a name for your penis? I didn’t know you could name body parts. What about my knees and my feet? Should I name them, too?”
Everyone is silent for a moment as Lanie takes her hands off of Ash’s ears. And then Kent bursts out laughing.
“No buddy, I’m just weird. You know what my pitching arm is named?”
Ash cocks his head to one side. “You are Kent Moore! You’re the brother who plays baseball?”
Kent nods. “Guilty as charged. Do you like baseball?”
Ash nods enthusiastically.
“Well, then, you’ll need to come to a game when the season starts.”
“Really?” Ash says, completely forgetting about naming body parts.
Kent launches into baseball talk while Mrs. Moore quickly makes a cheese and cracker platter and sets it out, getting a juice box for Ash.
“I’ve never seen someone who can host like your mom,” I whisper to Lanie.
She laughs. “Mothership lives to serve.”
“How did she get that nickname? You guys are really big on nicknames—what’s up with that?”
“Jeez, is this an interview?” Lanie asks, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckle. “Maybe.”
“I don’t know,” she starts as we grab plates of cheese and crackers and meander into the family room, entrusting her brothers with Ash, which may or may not be a good idea. “Both of my parents’ families are big on nicknames, so I guess it just runs in the family. Why KJ named his penis, I have absolutely no idea . . . other than the reason we just overheard. And I honestly don’t remember how we started calling Mom ‘Mothership.’”
“Huh. Well, I like the nickname thing. Is that why you all call Tabby ‘Tabby Cat,’ ‘Meow-Meow,’ and ‘Kitten Little?’”
Lanie giggles and nods. “Yep. Everyone in our family always has a few nicknames as time goes by, but usually one sticks.”
“You’re Mother Hen, right?”
Lanie nods. “Yep . . . that’d be me. Plus, you know that all our names are from DC Comics and horror movies, right?”
“Yeah, I remember Tabby telling me that once. Your parents are a riot.”
“Yep, hashtag truth.”
“Miss Lanie!” Ash’s little voice calls out from the kitchen.
“Yeah?”
“Your mom says I can go with Kent to walk the dogs. Can I?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Thank you!”
“Sure thing, kiddo.”
She settles back against the giant sectional. I make myself at home next to her, looking around at the inordinate amount of comfy furniture in the room. Everything about the Moore’s house screams, ‘Come on in and hang out. You won’t ever want to leave.’
“I love your parents’ house,” I admit to her as I take a sip of iced tea.
“Yeah, me too.”
“It reminds me a little of your house.”
She shrugs. “I suppose I want to have a house where people feel comfortable and want to hang out.”
“Kent’s house is like that, too, although it’s a little over the top.”
“No!” she says, putting a hand to her chest in mock shock.
I chuckle again.
“Is it his twelve shower heads for one shower or the heated pool or the fact that his kitchen has a built-in cappuccino maker that puts it over the top?”
We both burst into a fit of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Clark asks as he walks into the room.
“Oh, nothing. What’s up C-Dog?” Lanie asks her brother as
she pats the cushion next to her.
He sits down and wraps an arm around her.
“Well, I suppose I need to name my dick now. Who’d have thought?”
Just then, Tabby walks in. “Oh, there you guys are. I just picked up some donuts. What the hell are you talking about, naming your dick?” She looks between us, and the three of us burst into hysterics.
“Wow, clearly I missed something.”
Lanie finally composes herself. “Meowzer, we apparently need to name our vaginas.”
Tabby smirks. “Mine already has a name.”
Everyone turns to her with wide eyes.
“Well, don’t make the class wait! Out with it!” Clark demands.
She stifles a laugh. “Pussy cat of course.”
We all roll our eyes. “Well, that’s not very creative,” Clark replies.
Then all our eyes turn to Lanie, who blushes. “Oh, no, no way. I’m not stooping to this level. My body parts are remaining nameless.”
Tabby taps her cheek, deep in thought, and then smirks. “Lover’s Lane!”
I can’t help laughing at that one. “I like it,” I say to my sister.
“Like what?” Mr. Moore asks as he walks in from the side entrance.
“What’s your penis’s name, Dad?” Clark asks him.
Mr. Moore freezes, and we all turn to stare at him. “Zeus. Why?”
“Wait! No fucking way! You actually named your dick?” Clark says excitedly as the side door flies open again and Ash, Kent, and Mrs. Moore waltz through it, along with the dogs.
Mr. Moore shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone name it?”
“See, I told you!” Kent chimes in excitedly.
“Dad calls his ‘Zeus!’” Clark says to his brother.
“Ted!” Mrs. Moore says, her face turning pink.
“What? What’s the big deal? Doesn’t everyone name it?”
“So, I do have to name it?” Ash pipes up as he takes the leash off Frito.
Lanie slaps a hand against her forehead. “You people are gonna be the death of me! No, Ash, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, he does!” Mr. Moore, Clark, and Kent announce.
“Wait, what’s yours?” Mr. Moore asks Clark.
“Ben.”
“Ben?” Everyone asks.
He shrugs. “Like Benjamin Franklin . . . ya know . . . lightning bolts and shit.”
“Clarky, watch your language,” Mrs. Moore scolds.
“What, you aren’t going to ask KJ?” Clark asks his dad.
“King Albert,” Mr. Moore answers.
“Does everyone know KJ’s penis’s name?” Lanie asks.
Everyone nods, including Ash.
Lanie shakes her head. “I can’t even with you guys. Come on, Ash, Brix, we should get home.”
“But Miss Lanie! We didn’t even get to play with the rubber duckies! Your mom said I could play with them.”
Lanie glares at her mom.
“Ash, why don’t I give you one to take home and you play with it when you take a bath?” Mrs. Moore suggests.
“OK,” he says, appeased by the single duck that she grabs for him.
We say goodnight to everyone and slowly make our way back to Lanie’s house. It’s about a twenty-minute walk, but we have another mild late-winter evening. It’s hard to believe spring will be here in about a month. Kent is about to leave for spring training, which means operation ‘get my sister engaged’ is gonna have to commence sooner rather than later.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lanie
Brix takes Ash up to get him in a bath as I grab laundry and head to my washer. I open the door and sigh. I forgot to switch the wash over before we left. I pull it out and smell it, then, shrugging, I toss it into the dryer. I just can’t handle re-doing a load of laundry right now.
I turn the knob, and the dryer starts. A loud squeaking sound begins, and I groan as I lean back against the wall.
The dryer has been making that noise for a week now. I had picked up the parts and was ready to call Freddy MacMillan, a local guy who fixes all thing appliances, but I hadn’t gotten around to that yet.
“Everything OK down there?” Brix yells. I hear splashing and then the water draining from the tub.
“Yeah,” I answer meekly as I turn off the dryer. I pull the clothes out and hang them up to dry.
I’m pulling my phone out to call Freddy when Brix appears in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“I need the rollers replaced in the dryer.”
“OK, do you have them?”
I nod and point to the package on the washer.
“Let me get Ash settled with a book, then I’ll come to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yeah, we can change them out.”
I laugh. “Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Brix leans on the door frame and grins. “Lanie, I can do surgery on humans and rebuild a car engine; how hard can this be?”
I shrug. “Hard?”
“That’s what she said.”
I roll my eyes as he taps on his phone and pulls up a video on how to do this. “See, this guy says it takes about nine minutes. We’ll be done in a flash and then we can tuck Ash in and call it a night.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so. Unplug the dryer, and let’s get to work. Looks like we need a Phillips head screwdriver.”
I open a cupboard and grab the small tool kit that my dad bought me as a housewarming gift. I’m feeling too lazy to go out to the garage and rummage around for my other tools.
He looks at the small screwdriver. “Is that all you have? We should buy you some real tools.”
I laugh. “Wow, that’s such an annoying, stereotypical guy thing to say. And by the way, that’s just my little tool kit. I have proper tools out in the garage.”
He gives me a look that says he’s questioning my knowledge on tools, and I sigh. “Come on,” I say to him as I grab his hand and haul his ass out to my garage. Flipping on the light, I motion to the cupboards in the back of the garage. He opens them, and I can see his eyes grow big.
I smirk. Yeah, I have an array of power tools in addition to a giant toolbox, one of those ones with levels of drawers.
“Uh . . .” He stands there staring at my tools.
“You do recall that I restored my house, right?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he replies as he runs his hand through his hair. “I just didn’t expect . . . all of this.” He motions to my cabinets.
I giggle and shrug. “A girl has to be prepared. Now, what were you looking for?” I ask as I step up next to him and open a drawer filled with various-sized Phillips head screwdrivers.
He grabs one and gives me an incredulous look. “Why didn’t you just come out here to begin with?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I was being lazy,” I admit.
He laughs. “Well, let’s get started.”
We walk back inside and stand in front of the dryer like it’s a patient and we are about to commence a heart valve replacement.
“So . . . what first?” I ask him.
He scoots the dryer forward and stares at it.
“You have no idea what you are doing, do you?” I ask him.
He shakes his head and pulls out his phone. Fifteen minutes later, we have a ‘general’ idea of what to do.
“Screwdriver,” he says as he holds out a hand. I giggle and hand it to him as he removes the lid of the dryer. Panel by panel, we take the dryer apart. It’s like a giant puzzle, and I’m not entirely sure we will be able to put it back together.
“OK, here’s the first two,” he points to two wheels on a panel that look sort of like roller skate wheels. We replace them.
“OK, the back two now,” he says as we take apart more of the dryer. Eventually, we get the back two replaced.
“The belt looks alright, so let’s put it back together,” he insists. We do, and I turn on the dryer.
<
br /> The noise is still there.
“Remember when I said the belt looked OK?” he says, staring at the dryer.
“Let me guess, we should have replaced it?”
He nods and sighs as he starts unscrewing the dryer panels again.
“This is not going to take nine minutes,” I groan.
“Miss Lanie? Dr. Brix?” Ash’s voice calls out from the stairs.
“We’re just fixing something. We’ll be right up,” Brix yells. “Nine minutes, my ass,” he mutters under his breath, and I laugh.
“Just like surgery, huh?” I ask him as we replace the belt.
He grumbles some more as he puts the dryer back together. I almost hold my breath as we plug it in and turn on the power button.
“See, we did it!” Brix says excitedly as he pumps his fist in the air and holds out his hand to high-five me.
I return the high five and stare in wonder at the dryer. “I can’t believe we fixed it.”
“Why? We’re both smart, and you have some sort of tool obsession, so you must be good at this stuff. Plus, we had video instruction, so yeah.”
“We also had to take it apart twice,” I point out as I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.
“Novice mistake. But hey, it works and that’s what counts.”
“Solid point. I guess I won’t need to call Freddie after all.”
“Consider this your free appliance lesson.”
“Oh? One dryer and you are professional?”
Brix grins. “Something like that.”
“Right,” I answer as I turn to head up toward Ash’s room.
Brix is on my heels, and I feel the heat of his body as he leans toward my ear. “I am a professional at other things, too.” I’m not sure if he can see the blush crawling up my neck, but it definitely is.
“You guys took forever!” Ash says from his bed.
We look at each other and laugh. Brix explains what we were doing, and Ash listens intently.
“Wow! You can do that? Can you show me next time?” he asks.
“Of course we can.”
“Cool. I like fixing things. Once, Mrs. Collier let me help her fix the remote control. I put the batteries in it. And this other time, my old teacher, Mr. Wilkens, let me help him fix a jar that was broken. I had to hold the parts, and he glued them together.”
