Eight Days a Week by Amber L Johnson

Author:Amber L Johnson [Johnson, Amber L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612133294
Google: U-HVoQEACAAJ
Publisher: Writer's Coffee Shop
Published: 2014-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party

After picking Brady up from Pre-K, we went to Monkey Joe’s so both kids could jump and exert some energy. But after fifteen minutes, Bree turned quiet and pouty. Brady could tell something was wrong and reverted back to his old silence, and the only thing I could think to do was take them somewhere they could just get lost for a while.

So we went to the movies.

A seven-year-old and a four-year-old at the movies on a Monday afternoon was a bad idea. Lucky for me, we were the only ones there. Brady asked a lot of questions before he got quiet again and fell asleep. Bree sat rigid, unmoving, and grown-up as usual. I had this insane urge to send them running up and down the aisles or to start a popcorn-throwing contest. I’d never been around two kids in so much need of fun.

When we got home, we started the usual rituals of school work and chores, and finished just before Gwen arrived at five thirty—early by her standards any day of the week. She grimaced, and her eyes darted around, looking for Bree. I jerked my head toward the stairs, and she took them two at a time.

I craned my head to listen, but they were too quiet to hear, so I turned back to my pot of boiling water and grabbed a box of noodles from the cabinet, emptied the remainder into the water, and added some olive oil and salt.

A loud thumping started from upstairs, and it shook the walls. I dropped my wooden spoon and ran up at full speed.

I stopped cold at Bree’s door and stared into the room. Gwen, Bree, and Brady were blasting music and dancing.

Brady was bobbing his head and pumping his arms in jerky movements. Gwen had her skirt hiked up and was swinging her hips from side to side as the beat pounded. Bree jumped around in a circle and ran her little feet in place before throwing her hands in the air.

They spun and bounced, all three of them laughing.

When the beat dropped, they swung around in circles, clapping. Gwen leaned into Bree and sang to her, shaking her shoulders and her ass at the same time. Bree nodded and bopped along, while Brady played an air guitar that made me press my fist to my mouth to stifle my laughter.

When the song ended, they all collapsed on the floor, laughing and breathing hard. Bree crawled over to where Gwen was laying and rested her head against her stomach, and Brady laid his head on her shoulder. Gwen wrapped her arms around them, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Feel better?” she asked, out of breath.

They both nodded.

“Thanks, Auntie G,” Bree said softly.

I stepped back into the hallway, rested my back against the wall, and smiled. Then I went back down to the kitchen to finish dinner.

Later that evening, when the kids were upstairs getting ready for bed, Gwen and I stood next to each other at the sink.

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