When Mary Met Halley

Four

At six I figured I hadn't had enough punishment for the day, so the bird and I got in the car and drove the mile to my family's house. 

It stood next to Caleb's and Leif's, both places best described as "major fixer-upper opportunities". Considering we each had a handful of siblings and/or other kids around, the disrepair occurred at a rapid pace.

I could hear the baby crying when I got out of the car. My sister was out front, half-dressed, listening to music. At least she was smoking outside. 

"He's teething," she said before I could even open my mouth. At twenty-two, she looked older than I did, but that was mostly due to being a single mom of three kids under six years old.

"Any frozen mini bagels left?" I picked up as much garbage off the porch as I could. "Can't you guys at least keep it clean out here, Haze?" I tried to voice it in a neutral tone but she was always defensive.

"Look, we do the best we can, okay? You know Dad's gone on a trip. And no, there aren't any mini bagels left because, uh, hello? We ate them."

Money for cigarettes, though.

She ground hers out and left the butt there along with a dozen others. I used the side of my shoe to sweep them into the can that sat on the step under them. "Leif told us about Caleb."

It was a peace offering of sorts. 

"Yeah, he's pretty bad," I said as I opened the front door. 

The baby's cries grew louder. He was sitting in his high chair in the kitchen in a diaper, though it wasn't that warm in the house. There was baby food smeared in his hair, all over his face, his arms, the chair, and the floor. He wailed and rubbed at his eyes, where it undoubtedly also was.

"Jesus, Hazel, c'mon," I said, exasperated. I lifted the poor thing out and brought him to the sink.

"Right, if he was your baby, he'd be all picture-perfect in Osh Kosh overalls," she said sarcastically, going to sit at the kitchen table where her coffee was. "Have his own TV show."

The sink rag smelled mildewy. I rinsed it out around the crusted dishes and ran the water until it was warm. I paid for a maid service but she was a pro at living like a slob. "Here, buddy, let's get you cleaned up," I told Hank, who was hiccuping now instead of sobbing. Definite improvement. I managed to get his face clean and got the bits of pureed carrot out of his eyes.

My hands were tied as far as my niece and nephews were concerned. My sister wouldn't give up custody, and I had no legal grounds to them because she knew how to toe the line between crappy parent and child-endangering parent.

A shriek made us all jump as two more kids ran into the kitchen, the oldest one chasing the littler one. "I'll kill you!" she shouted at him, waving a disturbingly realistic sword. "I told you not to touch that damn box!"

I reached out and snagged her before she could continue on the warpath. "Whoa, there, crazyface. Auntie's here, hi. Why are you killing your brother?"

Five years old going on thirteen, she was a spitfire and I adored her. I wasn't supposed to have favorite kids but I did. I loved all the other ones, a lot. But this one was my kid, even if she technically wasn't. 

"I told him not to touch a box, and he did, and so he forfeits his life," she explained patiently, adjusting her warrior helmet. "I had to say damn because he made me really mad, and it's not healthy to hold in those feelings." 

"Carry on then," I told her, letting go. "Don't hurt him really. The bird's here if you want to play with him instead of committing murder. Pretend you're a crow and you two can be a murder."