What She Left Behind ✔️

chapter seven

"You want me to do what?"

"It would just be for a few days."

"Five, to be exact."

My mom exhales, shaking her head like she did when I was a teenager and she was disciplining me. "Gemma, your dad and I don't ask for much. Could you please do us this one favor?"

"I mean, it's not that I don't want to," I relent. "I just have work. Levi has work, too."

"Bowie will be here with her during the day. His classes don't start up until the end of January. I'm just asking that you be available to help out if your brother needs it. That's all."

I let out a sigh similar to my mom's. She and my dad want to utilize Benson's gift and fly to Bermuda on New Year's Day. I'm happy for them—they deserve a tropical vacation more than anyone else I know—but I also don't want to be responsible for Evangeline while they're gone. We had a bonding moment on Christmas, but that was it. I'm still no good with kids.

"What about Benson? Is he expected to help out?" I ask.

"I brought that up. For some reason, Bowie insisted on having you as his sidekick," she tells me.

"Really?" I'm both surprised and flattered. "Bowie would rather spend his evenings with me than have bro time with Benson?"

"Apparently."

"That's weird."

She rolls her eyes. "Gemma, will you do it or not?"

"Fine," I give in. "I can assist with dinner and bedtime, but that's it."

"Thank you!" she squeals. "Ugh, your dad and I have been desperate to get away. Your brother gave us the perfect opportunity. He's such a sweet boy."

And there it is: that favoritism I love so much. It's no wonder she didn't pressure Benson to help.

New Year's Eve is spent helping Mom and Dad pack. When I get home at ten p.m., hoping to ring in 2016 with my best friend, I find him passed out on the couch. I pull a blanket over him and head to bed myself. Since I don't have work tomorrow, I decide I'll wake up early and be at my parent's house when Evangeline gets up.

The following morning, I'm out of bed by seven. It's the first New Year's Day in six years that I don't awaken with a throbbing headache. Levi, who is still asleep on the couch with an array of empty bottles next to him, doesn't stir when I call his name. I decide to let him sleep. He'll need it to fight the hangover he's inevitably going to be nursing.

I drive to my parent's. They're already on a plane to paradise. For the next five days, they'll be sipping mimosas on the beach while Bowie and I play Dad and Mom to a kid who isn't even related to us. I'm sure I sound bitter. In actuality, I'm just nervous.

When I arrive, I use the key they made me when I was twelve to unlock the front door. The house is noiseless. The tree is still sitting in the front room, although it's ornaments have been removed. I wonder if they'll be purchasing solely full-sized trees from now on, or if they'll ever go back to getting the miniature ones.

"Bowie? Evangeline?" I call out, hoping I didn't come over this early for nothing.

No one answers. I don't think I've ever heard the house this quiet, ever known it to be so still.

Finally, I hear footsteps at the top of the stairs. Evangeline's head appears. She's wearing a white nightgown, her hair sticking up in every direction. In her arms is a ratty—I mean, well-loved—teddy bear that has seen better days. She hugs it close to her chest as she tiptoes toward me.