Fifty: Pierce

FIFTY

PIERCE

The following morning

I tucked a blanket around the twins, securing them in their stroller.

They stared at me in confusion, questioning the change in their Sunday morning routine.

“Nan-neeee,” William said.

“Hol-lowww,” Charlotte chimed in.

“No,” I said, stunned that they still called for ‘Hol-low’ every day. “Today’s walk through the park is just us and Olivia. No Harlow, and don’t ask me why. She’s not your friend anymore.”

William shook his Binky Bunny like he understood what I meant, like he was beyond furious.

“I don’t need your permission, son,” I said. “She’s not coming back.”

I pulled down their shade and looked at my watch.

Before I could tell Olivia to hurry, she jumped out of the car. She handed the twins matching cups and motioned for me to walk alongside her.

“Okay, so this week had so much drama that I don’t even know where to start,” she said. “You want the drama with my guy friends or the saga with my girlfriends first?”

I may not be cut out for this.

“I’ll start with the girls.” She chose for me, rattling off the drama like a professional reporter.

When we reached Harlow’s empty storefront, I couldn’t help but stare.

It looked the same as it did weeks ago.

The dream additions she’d mentioned weren’t there, and her plans to paint the front pink had fallen through somehow.

Maybe she’s focusing on the inside. Maybe she’s in there now…

“Are you paying attention to me, Uncle Brooks?” Olivia tugged my jacket.

“Yeah, I am.” I looked down at her. “Alyssa got jealous because you won the essay contest, and because she thinks you have a crush on Justin, she de-invited you to her birthday party.”

“What a nutty bitch, right?”

“Did Harlow ever say things like that to you?”

“No.” She waved her hand. “ Sasha did, though. Harlow would probably tell me to call her and clear the air, because I don’t like Justin. I like Max. Oh, and Alyssa usually beats me in everything else, and she shouldn’t be this upset over one time.”

“Can we please go with that plan later today, then?”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “How is your week going so far?”

Fucking awful. “Pretty good. I’m getting a lot done at work.”

“Are you happy that the Jets are a few games away from the playoffs?”

“They’re hanging on by a thread.” I smiled. “They have to win six of the next ten for that to happen.”

“Six of the next twelve .” She corrected me, pushing up her sleeve to show me a triple-layer bracelet.

“It has eighty-two charms to represent the number of games, then complementing ‘W’ and ‘L’ charms for the results, and then there’s a color chain that’s coded for the playoffs.”

I lifted her wrist. “Is this something we sell in the merch store?”

“No, Harlow had this made for me a while back.” She tried not to smile, but she failed. “She said it would help me better understand the season, and it does. I understand it perfectly now.”

“You want some hot chocolate?” I needed to change the subject.

“If I say yes, does that mean we’re going back to the car?”

“No, we have another mile to walk, and you still have to tell me about Jessie and Tamara’s latest fallout…”