Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4) (6 page)

As we do, we collapse onto the couch and
laugh our asses off, making fun of each other and creating inside
jokes from crazy mannerisms like the fact that Fandy has a way of
flicking his dreads over his shoulder that could rival any Victoria
Secret model.

I just hope it comes across on screen.

SUNDAY

“You look so cute.”

“No, you look so cute.”

“No, you do!”

“Okay, everybody is cute. Let’s not fight
about everything, for the love of God,” I mumble as we get off the
elevator. I think they’re both nervous, but they’ve been fighting
all morning.

“You look cute, too, Aunt Sadie,” Bridgette
says with innocent eyes and a small voice that makes me feel
slightly bad for cutting them short. Slightly.

“Thanks, kid.” Alyse is eyeing us like she
doesn’t know what kids are, or why I’m with them. “Hey, Alyse. Is
it okay if they come in with me? I’m babysitting.”

Her eyes narrow. “No kids are allowed in that
aren’t admitted. I’m sorry.”

“They have to come in or I can’t. They’re
really excited to see everyone.”

“I’m sorry, it’s against policy.”

“Look. These are Batman’s kids.” I widen my
eyes for their benefit. “He can’t make it today and they’re with
me. I would hate for both of us not to show up.” I look at the
girls and they’re both giving their best puppy dog looks with full
lower lips. Alyse sighs.

“They would have to wear masks and never take
them off. I could get in a lot of trouble. They aren’t sick in any
way, are they? Have they washed their hands?”

I smile. “We’ll all go wash our hands again
right now, even though they did before we left the house and I
practically bathed them in Purell before we got here.”

“She really did. It got in my hair, see?”
Hannah holds up a length of stiff hair as evidence and Alyse hands
over the masks. I secure the straps around their little ears and we
go down the hall to the restrooms. When we get back, Alyse pushes
the button for the automatic doors and we walk in.

“Robin! She’s here, she’s here!” one kid runs
to tell the others. “Where’s Batman?”

I put a hand on both of the minions’ heads.
“Batman sends his sincerest apologies and offers up his children as
sacrifice for his absence. He had a mission to complete.”

Another kid comes up. “Oh, was it the Joker
again? Bane? He’s a bad one, too, you know.” He looks at the girls
and they nod their heads eagerly.

“It was totally him! Batman had a lead and
couldn’t pass it up. I hope it’s okay we’re here instead,” Hannah
says, completely into her role as sidekick, to me, the
sidekick.

“Yeah, I guess that’s cool,” the kid says
grudgingly.

“Hey, what movie are you watching?” Bridgette
leads the way into the common area, and I give out hugs and fist
bumps as they get caught up with the movie and introduced to the
crowd. I take a seat in the miniature chair to the side and watch
the girls with complete pride.

As I perform manicures for a dozen girls, the
twins sit with the kids that aren’t in my line of cosmetology. I
was worried about the boys, but they shrug off their girl status
when they show that they know everything that is Batman. I tried to
give them a crash course this morning, thinking if it was fresh
they wouldn’t forget it, but it seems the superhero gene carried
strong in the Brennick family, and they’ve watched all of the
cartoon flicks with the three men at home.

When my line is done, I make the rounds to
each of the groups watching something about trees and Hoodoos or
whatever.

I gather the girls over an hour later to go
into the patients’ rooms asking, “What movie was that again?”

“The Lorax.” Huh. Never heard of it.

“Cool. Okay, remember what I said?” I ask
before opening the first door. They nod their heads in sync.

“Don’t act like there’s anything wrong.”

“Don’t ask about any tubes or why they don’t
have hair. Geez, Aunt Sadie, we know.”

“If we want to leave, say we have to go to
the bathroom.” Well, okay, then.

I knock on the door, and when we’re told to
come in, we’re greeted with a mom that’s all smiles and a teenager
that tries not to act excited as she unconsciously reaches to push
hair behind her ear that isn’t there anymore.

“Hi, Mara. I brought a treat.”

“Where’s your Batalicious?” she says, in her
typical snark. I push the twins forward.

“These are his. I brought them to you for
bloodletting.” She rubs her hands together in glee.

“Yessss. Come sit by me, my pretties,” she
says in a horrifying voice. The girls’ heads move back on their
shoulders before they square and move forward. “Mmm, you’re hair’s
so pretty. Will you give it to me?”

The girls are silent, considering before the
brave one, Hannah, of course, moves forward.

“You want my hair? What color was yours?” I
hold my breath. I can literally feel my face draining of blood.
Mara blinks slowly, like she can’t believe what she heard. Her mom
gets up and moves toward the bed in my peripheral vision.

“Darker than yours,” she mumbles. “Shorter,
but straight. I like your curls,” she admits grudgingly, then cuts
her eyes to her mom. The woman sits back down slowly.

Hannah walks closer. “I wish my hair was
straight. It gets so tangled all the time. Did you have to worry
about that?”

Mara moves her head from side to side. “No.
No tangles, just limp, stick straight hair.”

“Well, when you grow yours back, it’ll be
great! You won’t have to sit for hours while someone brushes it, or
have it ripped out when there’s tangles.” Mara eyes her, then her
mom, and then Bridgette.

“Can I brush your hair, little dwarf?” She
shrugs self-consciously. “I kind of miss it.” Mara’s mom puts a
hand to her mouth and Hannah looks at me. I nod.

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to get on the
bed, or what?” Mara watches her mom fight back tears and swallows.
She looks to Bridgette.

“Do you mind if my mom brushes yours? I’m
sure she misses it, too.” Mara’s mom’s chest heaves on a silent sob
that she doesn’t let escape. Bridgette nods readily, like a good
little trooper, and Mara’s mom is diving for the wall lockers that
house her bags. She pulls out a comb and a brush with a helpless
shrug.

“This is all I have,” she says shakily. I
smile and pick up Hannah to put her on the bed.

“This is perfect.” Mara gets the brush and
her mom takes the comb, sitting Bridgette on the couch by the
window as the room falls silent. I watch them both choke back tears
as they brush my girls’ hair slowly, almost reverently.

I swallow and try to blend with the wall. The
girls talk about school when asked, their various extracurricular
activities, and catch the masks before they fall when they get
caught on the various tines. I don’t know if Mara is doing this for
her mom, or if she’s even aware of the tears rolling down her
cheeks. But I see, and I remember. This moment will be with the
three of us for as long as we’re alive, even if it’s insignificant
to the little girls making it possible.

Finally, Mara gets tired and sits back. “That
had to be more than a hundred, kid. Your hair will be shiny for
days.”

“Thanks so much! It feels silky now. You’re
the best.”

Mara smiles back, even though she can’t see
the other girl’s bright, toothless grin. Mara says she wants a nap,
but I think she’s tapped out of nice, so we make our way to another
room.

This little boy is on my list of “those to be
won over.” I’ve played the games, and sat silently, asked
questions, and he’s never said a word.

“Jamal! How are you today, bud?” I say
loudly. Nothing. The kid doesn’t even look away from the TV. “This
is Bridgette and Hannah. They’re here to play.”

“Thanks for coming today, Robin,” his mom,
Bethy, says quietly. She’s always quiet, like she doesn’t want to
break his concentration.

“Are you playing Castle Crashers? I love that
game!” Bridgette goes right over to the bed and taps his leg, in
case he didn’t hear her. He moves his leg to the side. “Can I play,
too?”

His eyes move. He eyes the little masked kid
like she’s a bug on his windshield and shrugs. He shrugs! Bethy
meets my eyes with hers huge in her face.

“Thanks, Jamal. Scoot over. Is there another
controller?” Jamal’s dad, who was a shadow in the corner before,
jumps up to get it, while I help Bridgette on the bed. She settles
shoulder to shoulder with him and Hannah goes to look out the
window and mess with the blinds. Finally, she picks up a brand new
coloring book by Jamal’s dad’s seat and they play. Once again, I
try to blend. Never have I been a wallflower, but this is kind of
insane.

Bridgette says “good one” or “you almost had
him, let’s go again” as she shifts, constantly moving, bouncing a
foot or gesturing with her head at the actions her hands are trying
to make the soldiers on the screen make. Then it happens.

“So, what’s your deal? You don’t look sick.”
All heads swivel to the six-year-old on the bed. Even Hannah stops
coloring.

“I’m gonna die,” Jamal says nonchalantly,
like he’s been talking the whole time.

Bridgette shrugs, still watching the TV. “Why
do you think so?”

“‘Cause I got cancer.”

“So? My mom had cancer for a long time.”

“Did she die?”

“Everybody’s gonna die, but you’re not dead
today. Neither is your momma or daddy, or Aunt Sa— Robin. We don’t
live forever or come back like video games.”

“Maybe I want to,” Jamal says, the challenge
clear in his voice. Bridgette shrugs again, not fazed.

“Maybe you will. Hey! Maybe you’ll come back
as a doctor that cures cancer. Wouldn’t that be cool? You can fight
for other people like in Castle Crashers.”

“They fight to break down the walls of other
castles.”

“So what? If you go to school and learn, you
can be a doctor one day and fight to break down cancer’s castle.
That would be cool, huh?”

Jamal is quiet for a long time, his fingers
never stopping on the controller. “Yeah, maybe.”

Hannah puts down her crayon and leans toward
the dad. “Do you want to brush my hair?” she whispers. He smiles
and shakes his head.

“No, sweetie. Thank you, though.”

“It was fucking exhausting is what it
was.”

“But they did okay? I can’t believe Alyse let
you in.”

“She likes me.”

“Oh, trust me, she likes me more.” I roll my
eyes and push the phone closer to my ear.

“Nice. Have you hit that?” I ask casually. He
isn’t fooled.

“No, not for lack of trying, though. On her
part.” Asshole.

“Nice.”

“Well, you asked.” He laughs.

“Funny. Real funny. I liked her, but you’ve
ruined it.” I sniff in irritation, which makes him laugh
harder.

“Baby,” he croons. I’m not having it.

“Shut up. I’m mad at you.”

“You’re in my house, in my bed. Now tell me
what you’re wearing.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Bullshit, sex should be your middle name,
Sadie Dinah.”

“Well I don’t have a middle name, Finnigan
Brennick and neither do you.”

“Maybe mine should be—”

“Asshole?” I interrupt.

“I was going to say ‘Mouth of a God,’
actually.”

“Hardly.”

“Really? ‘Cause that’s what you say when I’m
making out with your pussy. ‘God, Oh my God.’ ”

“I don’t recall. Goodnight.” I hang up the
phone, but his laughter echoes in the room. Goddamn, I miss his
mouth.

TUESDAY

How the hell are you supposed to find
anything? I riffle through more papers, on top of others for
cattle, hay, wool, and who the hell knows what a combine is? Phones
are ringing in the background and people talk in the busy
office.

“Can I help you find anything, ma’am?” An
Irish voice says behind me. I turn, intrigued by the accent.

“Did you really just call me ma’am?” My hands
fly to my face. I know I remembered mascara this morning. “I can’t
possibly be older than you.” His face loses the smile. “No, no! I
just meant I’m twenty-two, not that you look old. I’ve never been a
ma’am before.”

“No offense taken, then. I didn’t see your
face to begin with, anyway, just saw you pushing through the
advertisements on the board.” I look back to the offensive
corkboard and shake my head.

“How are you supposed to find what you want
with everything on top of everything else?” I ask rhetorically and
flick a hanging sheet of paper.

“The name is Sean. If you’re interested in
anything in Los Rancheros, I can be of some help.” I shake his
hand.

“Sadie.”

“So you are looking in the neighborhood,
then?” he prompts.

“Yes, do you live here?”

“Yes, of course. We are in the Welcome
Center, after all.” I raise my brows.

“Well, I didn’t know if you needed a pass to
get in. These people are hell to visitors.” He laughs.

“That’s the truth. What is it you’re looking
for, then?” I hesitate.

“Well . . . I thought I would look for
horseback riding lessons, if there was anyone giving any. I don’t
see anything on the board, though.”

“For yourself?” I balk.

“Oh, hell no. For six-year-old girls. One for
sure loves horses, I don’t know about the other, but she would die
if I got her on one.” He puffs out his chest and I can’t help but
smile.

“Well, are you a resident, then?”

“I am.” I lie. “Do you give lessons?”

“I haven’t before, no.” I lose the smile.
“But in this case I might be inclined for a horse enthusiast.”

“Do you have well behaved horses? Their
guardian isn’t fond of them, and might have my head if something
happened to them.”

“We have only the best, Ms. Sadie. I assure
you. They’re actually my employer’s horses, but I help run the
stables and would love a chance to exercise them some.”