Good Things I'll Never Do Again

Five: The Aimee Army

"We get the warhead and we hold the world ransom for...one million dollars!"

~Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "What are you thinking?!" Sacha hisses at me as she stocks the synthetic flower wall with orange chrysanthemums.

I twirl a sprig of baby's breath around and shrug. "I don't think it'll be a big deal! I mean, the oldest is thirteen—she can run the show, and I'll just provide adult supervision. Easy peasy."

"You're going to have to take them to school, make sure they get fed—which means grocery shopping, by the way—taking care of them, cleaning the house. There's a lot to being a mom!"

I blink and stumble backward, my jaw going slack. "Did you...did you just call me a mom?"

"Well—"

"Because I'm not a mom! I never asked to take care of these girls! Aimee basically said that she just needs someone to watch them, and I was her last resort. If anything, I'm a babysitter. And if Aimee was expecting me to be like her, then she has another thing coming!"

Sacha frowns and sticks the last chrysanthemum into the holder. "Bev...your nieces are gonna be with you for six months. They'll be in a completely new place with no friends and neither of their parents. They're going to need someone to love and care for them. It won't be easy for them or you."

I toss the baby's breath back into the cart and lean against it. "Don't give me that, Sacha. I was alone my entire life! Kids are much tougher than you think."

Sacha gives me that look. The one that shows a mix of disappointment and empathy. The one that chisels away the stoniest part of my heart. "And you really think you're better off for that?"

She takes a handful of slime kits and disappears down aisle 16 to stock them.

I try not to think about her words. I keep telling myself that six months isn't too long. The kids will go to school, come home, eat dinner, and go to bed. As soon as I know it, it'll be January, and they'll be out of my hair and I'll be thirty-thousand dollars richer. Easy.

~~~~

I recline on the couch, a bag of Cheez-Its resting on my stomach, munching away as Sacha and Iris Barber, the diner lady, run around the house.

"Dusty's room needs to be pinker!" Iris calls from upstairs. "I have the perfect lace curtains to match!"

Sacha is already jogging up the steps, an armful of bright pink pillows in her arms.

I groan.

When Sacha found out that I hadn't done anything to prepare for the girls coming over, she called Iris (who is renowned for her interior decorating skills) and they've been killing themselves ever since. They stalked Aimee's Facebook page to get a feel for what the girls were interested in and haven't stopped since.

I was going to protest the utter destruction of the bedrooms, but when I saw Sacha come in with a mop bucket and duster, I figured a free deep cleaning was worth all the decorations flooding in.