Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,14
asked me to watch the girls that night so she and Rick could have a date night. Which, judging from the tension that always seems to be between them whenever I go there, they desperately need.
“Oh, hi, Emmy. Hi!” Maureen said when I let myself in through the back door. She was fluttering through the kitchen, stacking magazines and newspapers on top of the counter before going to fluff the couch cushions. Their house has always looked impeccable, even after the twins were born. My dad says that Maureen has control issues.
“Well, wouldn’t you if your child was kidnapped?” my mom always says in her defense. “You have to do something, you might as well dust.”
“Is that what you would do if I went missing?” I had asked her, incredulous. “Dust?”
“It’s a metaphor, sweetie.”
I do not think my mom understands the meaning of metaphor.
“Hi, Emmy!”
“Hi, Emmy!”
I glanced up to see the twins looking at me through the banister. “Hey, ladies!” I said to them. “What are you doing up there?”
“Playing spies!” Nora whispered in a way that, not to be critical, was not very spy-like at all. Next to her, Molly nodded.
Molly definitely had the better chance of making it into the CIA.
“I left money for pizza—” Maureen said.
“Pizza!” Molly cried, pumping her fist in the air.
“Pizza!” Nora echoed.
“—and Oliver’s upstairs if you need anything. Rick’s still at work so I’m going to meet him and . . .” Maureen trailed off as she wiped crumbs off the crumb-less table. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even think I should be going out tonight.”
The pizza celebration stopped midcry.
“You should go,” I told her. “We’ll be fine. We’re going to do awesome, fun things. Right, you guys?”
“Yeah!” Nora said.
“I’m not a guy, I’m a girl,” Molly announced as she trooped down the stairs. “And I want pizza.”
Maureen took a deep breath. “I’m just not sure that it isn’t too soon. The therapist said it’s important to stick to a routine but—”
Nora came over so she could hang on to my leg. Her hands were probably sticky and I tried to peel her off without wincing. “The therapist said that I’m a good colorer,” she said, head tilting back so she could look up at me. “I can see up your nose!”
I disentangled her. “Wonderful,” I said. “Go play spies with Molly. Pretend it’s the 1980s, during the Cold War.
“And Maureen, it’s fine. We’ll have pizza, watch TV or something, they’ll go to bed. Easy times all around.”
“The therapist said that I’m a good jumper!” Molly announced as she started jumping around us.
“The therapist said that I’m also good at playing video games!” Nora cried. “And coping!”
Maureen looked horrified. “She must have overheard us,” she whispered. “Oh God, I—”
“They’re fine,” I said to her. “I have your cell; obviously, I’ll call you if anything goes wrong, and Oliver’s upstairs, right?” I didn’t mean for that last part to sound so much like a question.
Maureen glanced toward the upstairs part of the house, and the two little girls followed her gaze. “Okay,” she finally said. “But if you need anything—anything—just call or text me. Or Rick. Or your mom.”
“Got it,” I said, half shoving, half escorting her out the door as she blew kisses to the twins. “I’ll call the SWAT team if anyone gets a paper cut.”
She gave me the kind of Look that all mothers are capable of giving, then blew one last kiss in the general direction of the kitchen. “Bye, girls, love you!” she called out behind her.
“Bye!” Neither of them looked up from their game.
“Okay!” I said, clapping my hands together as I went back into the kitchen. “What do we want?”
“Pizza!” the kids yelled.
“And when do we want it?”
“Now!”
“Well, we have to order it and wait for it to be delivered, but I see where you were going with that.”
The kids just blinked at me. Sometimes they’re not the most appreciative audience for my sense of humor.
“Find the menu,” I told Nora. “Let’s get this party started.”
An hour later, the twins were fed and sprawled on the couch, watching a movie that was very loud and very animated. I was doing my calculus homework in the chair farthest away from the TV, with Molly’s head resting on my ankles. Nora was wearing a paper crown that had been colored blue and pink, curled up on the corner of the couch, her thumb in her mouth and her finger hooked around her nose. (It’s the easiest way to