Page 35 of Dream House
“And then there was one star.” The kid holds up her pointer finger with the seriousness of someone forty years older than she is. Her big eyes widen even bigger. “And it grew and grew and grew and grew and Uncle Tyler floated up to the ceiling.” She ends this dramatic testimony with a casual shrug.
“And then what happened?” She may be a preschooler, but she sure knows how to build suspense.
She eyes me with impatience. “He saw Mama crying, so he came back down.” With that tone, she might as well tack on aDuhfor good measure.
I wonder if her uncle has nightmares like Dad. If he wakes up screaming.
I don’t wonder long because I pick up a scrap of talk from the front of the house.
“But his name isLark Bienvenu.” Pen’s voice rises.“It literally meanswelcome bird.You can’t ignore that.”
“I don’t care what it means. I don’t want a man living here.”
Someone blows a raspberry.“Tyler lives here.”
“That’s different. He’s my brother.”
“What if Uncle Booty needed a place to stay?”
“Again, that’s different. He’s your uncle.”
Pen snorts.“Are you telling me you’d let my Uncle Booty—my UNCLE BOOTY—move in here before that college kid?”
College kid?Is she talking aboutme?I may be in college, but I’ve never been acollege kid.Not even freshman year. I’d already put in twelve months in the salt mine.
Twelve months in a mine is like six years above ground.
“He’s been arrested three times,” Pen says, her voice climbing.
“All misdemeanors.”But I can tell that Stella Mouton isn’t even convincing herself.“Okay, fine. I don’t really want Uncle Booty—I mean your Uncle Lawrence—living here.”
Pen snickers, and it sounds like victory.
Stella’s voice lowers, but I can still make out what she says.“That doesn’t mean I wanthimhere, either.”
“Because he’s hot,”Pen retorts.
My chest swells.
“Keep your voice down,”Stella hisses.“And he is not.”
I keep my shoulders back. I refuse to let them dip.
Pen snickers again.“Don’t pretend you don’t remember what I said.”Her tone is teasing.
“Nonsense? As usual?”Stella fires back.
“Hey. You don’t have to get mean.”
Silence.
“Sorry.”
More silence.
“I mean it. I’m sorry.”
Even more silence.
