Chapter Twenty-One
It turned out that having a dangerous stalker, verified by a local detective, made normally hard-nosed professors become very understanding and accommodating. Not a single one of them complained about me needing to miss class for the next few weeks and handing in assignments over email. I’d even had a few Skype sessions to ask questions and review points of my thesis.
Deep down, I figured it was probably less liability on the college if I were attacked off campus, but it was a relief either way. I was actually making a lot of headway. A paper airplane flew into my head, pinging backward and falling to the ground. My slow one-and-a-half-handed typing was interrupted as I lost my train of thought, but I turned and smiled at Evan all the same.
“Hey, bud, what’s up? Bored?”
He sighed and fell back onto the couch. “You’ve been doing homework all morning and Mommy said I can’t go back in my bedroom until she’s done cleaning. There’s nothing to do.”
The one part of having time away from school that wasn’t so great was that Roman and Lydia had combined forces to make sure I was pretty much never alone. While I didn’t mind watching Evan when Lydia was busy, I could see the situation getting old fast. As it was, Sammy had spent the last three nights tucked in between Roman and me. I suspected he was afraid I’d disappear like Jen had. Even though he was scared, I didn’t think he really understood why. It was enough for him to know I might not be there. Roman had tried to reassure him, but neither one of us wanted to push him.
“How about we make a snack?” I suggested. “Ants on a log?”
Evan bounced off the couch. “Yes! Mommy thinks those are gross.”
“They are gross to grownups, but if you like them, I’ll make you some.” Raisins, peanut butter, and celery. Yuck. Little kids seemed to have no taste buds, though, so it worked. Fun was more important than yum when it came to snacks, I supposed.
Fifteen minutes later, Evan was happily munching as loudly as possibly on his snack and I was back at my laptop. I was just getting back into my paper when Lydia immerged from the boys’ bedroom and plopped into the chair next to me.
“I don’t know how those two manage to make such a ridiculous mess so often. I swear there will be Legos stuck in the carpet for the rest of eternity.”
I almost made a smart comment about it being her monkeys and her circus, but I thought about trying to help Sammy find his pajamas last night and tripping over half a dozen toys just trying to get to his dresser. It wasn’t like Roman expected me to suddenly take over all the household chores now that I was officially living there, but I wanted to do my part and stop being a house guest. That meant doing all the things Lydia did for her boys on a regular basis. Thinking about it like that was a little overwhelming.
“I recognize that look,” Lydia said. She chuckled to herself, at me. “I remember seeing it on my own face the first time Colby managed to pee all over the changing table because I wasn’t fast enough with the diaper and I thought, who’s going to clean this up? Then I realized, oh yeah, me. That’s when it hits you.”
“When what hits you?”
Lydia chuckled again, and ignored my question entirely when she spotted Evan running toward her with peanut buttery hands. She caught his wrists before he could touch her and guided him back to the sink to wash his hands. When he was no longer a danger to the furniture, Lydia sat back down and I gave up on my paper until after lunch.
“So, I was thinking,” she said. “Why don’t you leave Sammy here tonight when Roman gets home? He can have dinner with us and play for a few hours before bedtime.”
I knew when my sister was hatching something. “Why?”
“Because even though I was mostly joking about you two adding to the trio, I am well aware of the need for grownup time in a relationship.” She leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “I’m also aware that Sammy’s been crawling into bed with you two and you’re going a little stir-crazy being babysat twenty-four-seven, even if it has only been a few days.”
I stared at her, trying to determine if there were ulterior motives. When I couldn’t come up with any, I decided to take her at her word. “Thanks, sis. That would be really nice.” She beamed and I couldn’t help feeling bad for doubting her. “Are you sure you don’t mind, though? It is a school night?”
She waved off my concern. “It’s the week before spring break. They aren’t doing a whole lot aside from driving their teachers crazy.” She stood then, scanning the room for Evan in the face of so much quiet. “I’ll let you get back to your paper. Evan’s got to be up to something.” She walked away mumbling about Legos and no dessert if his room was a mess again.
***
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 25
