Page 57 of The Lucky List
“Cuz we both have blue eyes?” I ask, holding Levi’s face next to mine so Micah can compare. Levi squirms in my arms as I tickle him.
“Yep. Except yours are a little darker than his. Mommy’s eyes are green like mine.”
I release Levi as he refocuses on his Green Goblin. This one is getting what looks like a fart cloud behind him.
“My grandpa has green eyes too. But he yells a lot.”
“Oh?” I continue working on my coloring, hoping he’ll share more. Lucy had mentioned her dad before, and I wonder if this is where Micah’s distrust in men comes from. When he doesn’t elaborate, I ask, “What color are your dad’s eyes?”
“I dunno.”
His words are like a punch to the gut. Lucy hasn’t told me much about her ex—practically nothing, now that I think about it. I wait for Micah to share more, but he keeps coloring. Who the fuck would create these amazing kids and choose not to be a part of their lives?
“That’s okay if you can’t remember. Is there anything youdoremember about him?”
“I never met him,” he says, so casually, like he didn’t just drop the biggest feckin’ bomb.
My blood is roiling thinking through all the possible scenarios Lucy must have gone through with their dad. Did he leave her before Levi was born and Micah just doesn’t remember him? Did he tell her he didn’t want to have anything to do with them? Did he sign away his rights? Do they even share the same father? Surely, they must. They look so much like each other and their mom.
I’m overcome with the need to ask her all my questions, but it’s been like pulling teeth getting her to open up so far.
I don’t know what else to say, so I sit in silence, coloring with the boys, hoping that one day their mom will share more of herself with me.
After coloring, Micah explains that they have to get ready for bed, so we put everything away and head upstairs.
I don’t know what the protocol is for me helping with their bath, so I make them put on swimsuits. It takes them way too long to find them, and then I have to hustle them through washing. Levi keeps asking me to swipe a card, but I have noclue what he’s talking about, and every time I open a drawer or cabinet to look for a card, they both start giggling.
It’s difficult to keep water from spilling out of the tub, and I’m thankful I had the foresight to wrap Micah’s cast in a garbage bag, because with the way Levi sloshes water around, the cast would’ve been soaked. Hell, I’m soaked.
Once I get the boys dressed and their teeth brushed, I’m exhausted. How does Lucy do this every night?
We walk into the boys’ shared bedroom, and they go through a list of items they expect me to complete: three books, one bedtime story I have to come up with myself, five minutes of back scratches, and a rousing rendition of “We Will Rock You” by Queen—complete with stomps and claps.
I complete everything on the list and sit on the edge of the bed as they climb into the bottom bunk together. “That was way more than I got when I was your age. My Ma used to tuck me in with an Irish blessing and kiss me goodnight.”
“What’s a Ma?” Micah asks.
“It’s what we Irish call our moms. Ma for mom and Da for dad.”
“I wish Mama was here to tuck us in,” Micah says through a yawn.
“I know, lad. But you’ll see her in the morning. Would you like me to recite the blessing my Ma used to tuck me in every night?”
“Okay,” Micah says.
Levi scoots over, making room for me between them, and I duck my head, careful not to hit it on the top bunk, and crawl up toward them. The bed isn’t large, maybe a full-size, but I squeeze my big body between them, putting my arms around their shoulders so they don’t fall out of the bed.
“May the dreams you hold dearest be those which come true, and the kindness you spread keep returning to you.”
“That rhymes,” Micah says.
“Aye, it does, like a poem.”
“What’s a poem?” Levi asks.
“It’s a?—”
“Do another one!” Levi says, not giving me a chance to answer his first question.
