Dedicating Every Day to You

Chapter Twenty

It's a January evening, and I'm lying on the couch, riveted to the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird. I'm on the last chapter, and I need to know what happens, right away.

"Take your feet out of my lap, Alex. I'm trying to read." Alex has his grey-socked feet in John's lap, obscuring the pages of his copy of the book.

"Daddy, your head is in the way, and I can't see what's happening." I try to push John's head off my shoulder. His ponytail is in the way of my page.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't talk since you're lying on top of everyone!" Alex tries to shove me off, sending me sprawling even more.

"Fine, I'll read aloud." I clear my throat. "Let's see. 'Autumn again, and Boo's children needed him.'"

"I do love that quote. So many beautiful metaphors, so much elegant language. This whole book is a work of art." Alex has a misty look in his eyes. "Anyway, keep going."

I got this book as an assignment for English class a few weeks ago. Alex started screaming when I brought it home, and then began reading chapters to me before bed each night. John had never read the story before, and so he was assigned to read it with us. We're on the last chapter now, and if I don't find out what comes next, someone is going to get hurt.

"'...and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.'" Alex finishes reading the last line and closes his copy with a comfortable snap.

John and I leap to our feet in unison. "What?!"

"It's not allowed to be over!"

"I don't want it to be over!"

In all of our manuvering, we've knocked Alex onto the floor. He laughs and pulls me down with him. He's wearing his glasses tonight, and they're slightly crooked on his nose. "Well, that's the end."

I fling my hands into the air. "Now what do I do with my long weekend?"

"Call up your friends." John sits cross-legged beside us. "Theo and Harriet are always delighted to see you."

"They're skiing in New Hampshire for the weekend."

"Lafayette needs a babysitter..."

"Ugh, no. Watching a bunch of spoiled little French kids is not my idea of a good time." I sit up and run a hand through my hair. "What's for lunch?"

"That's rude, you haven't even met them." Alex sits up, too, and fixes his glasses. "Also, tuna sandwiches."

"Gross! Why tuna fish?" John yawns. "I'll figure something out." He stands up, stretches, and walks to the kitchen. "We've got the ingredients for pizza! Come help me, you two."

"I don't need to meet them. They sound bratty." I walk over to help John with lunch.

"Alright, I'll call and tell him you'll do it."

"What? I said I didn't want to!" I look up from the flour I'm measuring.

"Yes, but anyone with the energy to be that rude has the energy to watch some kids for a few hours tonight." He picks up the landline in the kitchen and dials a number. "Bonjour, Laf, mon amie! Oui, oui, bien sur." What follows is a stream of rapid French that leaves my head spinning.

I perch on the counter and pour olive oil for the crust. John adds yeast, and I start to stir the dough mixture.

"I'm going to bring you over around five tonight, Kathryn." Alex is done with his phone call, and he covers the bowl of dough with a cloth and places it on top of the fridge. "The girls are really excited to meet you."