by J. J. McAvoy
“No…” She stared at me.
“So not the same … but go on.” I stuffed my mouth.
“First of all, the governor’s wife probably doesn’t like being referred to by her husband either.”
“Huh!” I scuffed, lifting my head. “I call her the governor’s wife, because watch her whenever she’s on camera; she comes on and says, ‘Hi everyone, I’m Governor Eilish’s wife, Dorothy-Ann Eilish… every single time. Some women want be ornaments on their husband’s tree. While I was at Harvard, I overheard some of the undergrad girls talking about how they only went there to find a smart guy to marry. They wanted to spend the rest of their lives at home. And I’m not knocking stay-at-home moms, believe me, but they were spending thousands of dollars, per year, in order to find a tree to hang themselves on. I wanted to tell them eHarmony was much cheaper! They had no goals, no dreams, nothing but getting married so that someone could take care of them. It was scary. I didn’t think women like that existed. But they do. Dorothy-Ann most likely felt her husband was spending too much time with his intern, and she didn’t want to be the governor’s ex-wife, so she killed her.”
There was not a doubt in my mind she was guilty, and I wasn’t saying it from an outsider’s point of view. I’d seen all the reports and watched as Levi built his case. She did it.
“Wow.”
I glanced over to her, and she was just shaking her head at me. “What?”
“Nothing, just … I think I saw a dark, twisted version of my future pass before my eyes.”
“Huh?”
She finished off the bag, tilting her head back for the crumbs before looking at me again. I just waited, fighting of the urge to bombard her with questions.
“At that party,” she said, picking up where she left off. “Everyone was talking about DeShawn. It was like walking with a celebrity. They had just won the game, but DeShawn, he stood out … like always. And when he was talking to guys and I was getting a drink—”
“Of what?”
“Sister. Remember.” She smiled.
This was not going to be easy. “You went to get a drink and…?”
“And then a few girls came over, asking what team DeShawn wanted to play on.”
“What team?” I questioned, confused.
“Exactly.” She pointed at my face. “That is exactly what I said and how my face must have looked. I told them, like a total dumbass, he plays for Georgetown, and he wasn’t going anywhere. They laughed and said, ‘Duh, we mean in the NFL.’ The NFL, Thea, the bloody National Football League. I never thought about it like that. Like, oh my boyfriend might be in the NFL. Everyone was talking around me about my future … no, DeShawn’s future, with me added into the mix because I was his girl.”
“Breathe.” I rubbed her shoulder, and she fell back on the pillows. “What did DeShawn say? Isn’t he majoring in computer science?”
“He’s an engineering major, minoring in computer since … the show off.” She pouted, and it was cute … and it reminded me of me, too.
“I know. Why couldn’t he just be a stupid jock,” I teased, but she didn’t laugh. “Does he even want to play for the NFL?”
“His exact words were, ‘Yeah, that would be cool.’” She bunched her face and made her voice deeper to mock him. “I had to push to get a direct answer, which was worse. He said he wants to go to the NFL, and he wouldn’t work as hard if he didn’t. But he also knows that anything could happen and he doesn’t want to end up like his father, who got a full ride to Notre Dame, blew out his knee, forcing him quit football, drop out of college and spend the next nineteen years drunkenly talking about what could have been every time he lost a job. Which is why he must take his major seriously, so he has a strong back up. He’s thinking about everything. He’s laying out two paths for himself.”
I could see it. That look in her brown eyes. I knew it well. The doubt. The urge to bolt. But I didn’t want her to run, not from him. He was reasonable and trying to make something of his life. He shouldn’t be faulted for that. But Selene was my sister and I knew what that doubt was. I knew that fear and how it quickly it squashed the light that was finally shining in her.
“You don’t know what you want to do.” I spoke out her fears. “You don’t want to be his ornament, but you don’t know how to be your own tree. And the more he shines, the more his shadow gets thrown on you.”
Her brown eyes glazed over with tears she fought back. “I really care about him. I love him a lot, but … I’m not ready to walk down his perfect path—either of them. I’ve been searching so hard at school to find classes or programs I like. But nothing. Everyone is flying forward, and I’m just the lost bird.”
I thought for a second, shifting for the ten thousandth time since no position was comfortable for more than a few minutes.
“Finish the semester, and then take a year off,” I whispered.
“Who are you, and where did my sister go?”
Ignoring her, I let all the thoughts come together until I saw the big picture. “In law school, I learned we shouldn’t shy away from our connections. We shouldn’t soften because of them, but we shouldn’t be afraid to use them. Connections were like having a hidden dagger on a battlefield. Just because your enemy didn’t have it, didn’t mean you had to disarm yourself—”
“Now I remembered what my second point was,” she cut in. “Is law school like The Hunger Games? It’s like they are preparing you for war, not court.”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed, and I had to stretch for it.
Sorry, can’t call. We’re getting started now. Sorry for not understanding. I’m going to have to stay in the city ‘til the trial is over. Do you want to stay at the house, or do you want to come with and stay at Tristan’s place?
I glanced at Selene who was staring at me, waiting.
I’m good here. Sister bonding time is needed, I replied.
I’ll come back tonight to get some stuff, and I’ll check in, so keep your phone close, please. Love you, and I do understand. We’ll talk more after this over.
Okay. Love you too. Good luck … for the second time.
“Luck only tips the scale if you’re good enough without it. I’m more than good enough. ;)” He finally said. Before I could reply, he sent another text.
“Starting, don’t forget to record! Love you bye.”
“Did you two kiss and make up?” Selene teased.
“Maybe.” I stuck my tongue out at her. “Can you hand me the remote on his bedside table?”
She handed it to me, but looked around the room. “Where is the television?”
I pointed the remote forward, and automatically the mirror blinked once before turning on as the television.
“Well excuse me, then.”
“He loves his gadgets,” I said to her, flipping to the news. There he was, dressed in his navy suit with the burgundy tie I’d gotten him, but what really turned me on were his glasses.
“You’re recording it?” she asked, when the option came up.
“Because it’s war.” I muted it and turned back to face her. “You asked if they were preparing us for The Hunger Games or something? There are two types of lawyers, the ones that truly want to make a difference, the social justice warriors. They are fighting a war against those who are greedy and cruel and oftentimes rich. Then there are those who are lawyers because the love the thrill of it. Yes, we do care about our clients. But honestly, it’s a thrill and the war is…it’s more complex just like the law. At the first level, it is a battle between minds. Not just with the other lawyer but yourself. Because in order to defend your client you need to know how to prosecute them. The other lawyer shouldn’t have something up their sleeve you don’t already think about. On the next level, it’s not only in your hand. One juror could refuse and the whole jury can be hung. So you have to figure out how to get them on your side. Look.” I sat up again leaning in and pointing the television. “See he’s wearing his glasses while the pr
osecutor is opening. He is taking notes, he doesn’t need to, but it looks like he is only listening to her as she speaks, giving her his full attention and ignoring the jury.”
“But I thought you said you wanted them on your side?”
I grinned nodding as I watched him get up and take off his glasses. “That’s what makes him so good. At least one of them already is. When the prosecutor is accusing the defendant, out of habit, we always look to see not only who it is we’re talking about but how they react to the accusations at least once…sometimes even more than that. So while he was pretending to listen intently to the prosecutor they are all looking at him. And what they see isn’t some cocky sleaze-ball lawyer trying to get a murderer off. They see a handsome, serious, man giving his full attention first, to a woman, second, to the case. See, now he’s taken off his glasses to speak to them during his turn. In the back of one of their minds, they’ll realize he only uses the glasses when he’s reading and writing. Believe me, whatever he’s writing is chicken scratch, but to them it looks like he’s really doing his homework. So at least one of them will be more inclined to take everything he says more seriously. One of them will weigh each thing he says more importantly because he looks like the bookworm and the facts guy. And that one person is all he needs to hang the jury.”
“All of that from him writing, and taking off his glasses?” She laughed at me. “Jeez.”
“Exactly.” I smiled leaning back again. “That’s why he’s the best. From the moment he stepped into the court room, he was setting up his battleground.” I looked at her again. “I want to go back to work not just because I want to prove myself, but because I love this. I love being a lawyer. I love working to win. And ,yes, I win for bad people sometimes and that sucks, but I can’t not love the win. I’ll love this baby when he comes. But I’ll always want to be a lawyer. That is what it is like to be passionate and that is what I want you to be. So I’m going to use you.”
“Huh, how?” She twisted her bottle cap.
“You can lean on me,” I reminded her. “If you want, take a year off school, and live here with us, rent and food free, as you search for your passion. In return, you help me take care of Ulric while I’m at work. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just dumping my kid on you, so—”
She launched herself into my arms. “Thank you! Oh my God! I’ve thought about dropping out, or getting a job or something. I was scared I was just chickening out of school, and I didn’t want to let you down. But I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s only for year! And you must keep your grades up ‘til—” She kissed my cheek repeatedly.
“You are the best sister on Earth. I swear I’ll be the best aunt nanny in the world.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was her connection, because I could afford to take care of her no matter what. I didn’t want her to go through the motions in life. I didn’t want her to just be stuck. She should be free and passionate about something. If there was anyone in the world I could trust with my child, it was her.”
“You do know you have to tell DeShawn, right?”
She froze, and I picked up the remote.
“Good luck with that.”
Thank God I was done with the whole dating and trying to find myself thing. That shit sucked.
BABY: DAY 42
LEVI
Watching as she explained every inch of Ulric's room for the third time, I could not help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu.
I'd been in this same exact situation … from a different angle. Instead of standing at the entrance of the door, patiently waiting as I was now, I'd once been in Selene's position. I'd once, not so long ago, held a newborn, Bellamy, staring at her mother, my sister, like she was a crazy person. We were leaving for one night. No, we weren't even leaving! We were going into the backyard, because she'd have a damn panic attack if we had to actually drive anywhere.
It was madness, and yet, if she wasn't the one doing it, I'd be double-checking that there were enough bottles.
“Do you need me to repeat anything?” Thea said, taking a deep breath as she turned to her sister, happily bouncing Ulric and wiping the bubbles he blew. “Selene?”
“Huh?”
Why Selene? Why?
Thea's brown eyes widened, and Selene looked to me.
“I have him. I’ve downloaded the humidifier app, which, to be honest guys, really? An app.”
“He needs it on...”
“On setting three. Use the water bottles with the blue cap to refill it. He's eaten but will leave me with one great surprise in his diaper, and so you've laid out SIX new ones for me, along with his wipes, and butt powder...You've brought out four night outfits just in case...I don't know if he's the incredible hulk and rips them when he burps or something. His room is at room temperature in the house app that Levi put on my phone, which will let me know if it gets too warm. The alarm code is the first digit of all of your birthdays, but never fear if I forget there is also an alarm app on my phone too. But the best app of them all is the sock buddy. I take this little green sock and put it on his foot when he goes to sleep which make sure his heart rate is fine and he's breathing. I don't have to worry about walking up and down the stairs with him because gasp look there is a mini fridge in my room along with a microwave, so I don't have to go down stairs. Ulric, aren't we lucky huh, mommy and daddy set you up with the hover parents starter pack collection.” Selene continued, repeating everything Thea had outlined. In great detail.
Thea frowned, and I came over, putting my hands on her shoulders. "Okay. Okay. We're hovering away now. If you need us—”
“I won’t need you,” Selene butted in. “Now please, take my sister so she can enjoy what is left of her birthday."
I glanced at my watch. Shit.
“She’s right, let’s go.”
“Love you.” She kissed Ulric’s cheek.
“What about me?” Selene laughed.
“We’ll see after tonight,” Thea shot back.
“She loves you. I love you. And I love him. Come on.” I kissed the baby’s head and took Thea's hand.
“Have fun!”
Oh, I planned too.
“You are far too excited,” she said, walking down the steps.
I grinned. “Am I?”
“At least I’ll finally get to see this project.”
Finally, was right. It had taken much longer than I thought it would. I was surprised her curiosity didn’t get the best of her—then again, when did she have time?
“Jackets. Boots. Gloves. Hats. Scarves?” She lifted everything I’d laid out in the living room.
“Having fun?” I asked her.
“It’s my birthday. I’m allowed.” She kissed me.
“Don’t let me stop you then.”
Just as I stepped toward the door, Ulric’s cry rang out loudly, and she was already turning around to run when I grabbed her arm. “Levi—”
“We aren’t here. Your sister has him,” I reminded her.
“I know, but maybe I should…” Thankfully, the crying ceased.
“See … after you.”
I held the French door open.
“I have no idea where we are going, so lead the way, Mr. Black,” she begrudgingly said. Rolling my eyes, I took her hand.
“You’re such a dork.” The corner of her mouth turned up.
“The dork who gets the girl is no ordinary dork,” I reminded her.
“True.” She linked her arm through mine as we walked off the patio deck, down the first the steps, and around the pool, on to the grass.
“I can’t believe it’s getting dark already,” she whispered, putting her head on my shoulder. I glanced up at the dark pink-orange sky, mentally crossing off watching the sun set for the night.
“Me either.” I said leading her down further.
“Levi?” She frowned when she came off the freshly cut grass of our backyard. “Where are we going?”
“Come on,” I sa
id, still walking down the snowy path into the woods. And, as it got darker, as the sun set behind the snow-covered trees, she held on tighter to me. Ready to make a run for it if she needed to… the big baby.
“This is by far the creepiest birthday…” Her voice trailed off as she saw the lights. Her mouth fell open, and it was like watching a kid in a candy store.
“You were saying?” I teased, walking toward it.
“Levi,” she said in disbelief.
I couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve wanted this since I was a kid and heard it on Floyd Freeman’s album—”
“Freedom with a Vengeance, track nineteen, ‘5 Dollar Town’.” She grinned, covering her mouth. “Levi! No way!”
“I was born in a 5 Dollar Town, where everyone’s skin was colored brown, and there was no playground. To my right, south-ie, loud and proud. To the east, the police. To the north, where I held no worth, and in the west I needed a vest…”
“Trapped in this box the only place was down or up and so I built my castle up in the treetops.” She sang so excited she ran towards me. I caught her tightly and laughed, knowing she was probably one of only maybe one hundred people, myself included, in the state who knew who Floyd Freeman was.
“You built me a tree house.”
“So selfish,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around her. My lips right beside her ear as I reminded her, “I built us a tree house.”
No, this was more than a tree house. It was too luxurious for that. It was made of wood, of course, but had large windows, facing the sun. She broke out of my arms and rushed up the spiral staircase, up the base of the tree, until she got to the deck. I followed. It honestly was much better than I’d expected. It wasn’t massive, but it wasn’t meant to be; it was meant to be our getaway. The wooden canopy bed the focal point in front of the windows, beside it on the right, a hand carved table for two, with a small fridge in the corner, to the left a standing shower beside the hot tub. Outside was a deck a rope woven hanging bench, and my old guitar resting beside it.
