Page 44

Chapter 44

Little Noodle

Isaiah

“ I don’t wanna go home,” a sex-rumpled Robyn declares. “Can we have a sleepover?”

Dell taps her nose. “You have an 8:00 a.m. session with your sexy personal trainer, missy.”

She groans, “I know. But this is so nice.”

“It is,” I smile.

“Fine,” Dell concedes. “We’ll all sleep in Isaiah’s too-small bed when both of us have kings at home.”

Robyn and I cheer like children.

Dell takes the opportunity to plug in our phones, set alarms, and get the room ready. Right before he gets back in bed, he grabs the hardback novel sitting on my nightstand under the lamplight. It’s the true crime book we’re currently buddy-reading.

“What’s this?” he asks, picking up the smaller hardback with a nondescript cover and showing it to me.

“Oh,” I hesitate, “That’s my mom’s baby journal she kept for me.”

“The what?” Robyn asks, rearing back to look me in the eyes.

I swallow. “Apparently, my mom kept a journal for each of us kids while she was pregnant and through the first year of our lives.”

“That’s adorable.”

“I haven’t read any of it yet.”

“Why not?” Dell asks .

I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

Robyn’s busybody self lights up. “Can we read it now?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Dell’s already sliding under the covers and leaning against the headboard with the journal in hand. Robyn and I follow suit, and the handwritten book is handed to me.

“Guess I’ll start with the first page?”

My partners nod eagerly, and for some reason, their interest sparks my own. The hurdle of opening her words doesn’t seem so high anymore 1 .

“September 20th,” I read aloud. “Hello, baby. It’s been two weeks since I found out about you, and this is the first chance I got to buy a new journal. You haven’t been with me long, but you’re definitely making your presence known by sucking all my energy. It seems all you want me to do is sleep.”

Robyn chuckles softly, and Dell wraps his arms around her before I continue.

“But it’s okay, sweetie. I fall asleep happy knowing you’re on your way. I can’t wait for you to meet your big sister, Angela. She already carries around a baby doll everywhere she goes, and most of the time, the baby is upright. You’ll be in good hands with us. Your father is downright beside himself with happiness. He can’t wait to meet you either. You’re already loved so much, baby. All my love, Mama.”

“Oh my god,” Robyn sniffles. “That’s beautiful.”

“Can you read more?” Dell asks.

Finding myself as eager as they are, I flip the page and begin again. “September 29th. For the last couple of days, I’ve had a melody that keeps playing in my head, and I think it’s yours. I’ll sing it for you soon once I figure it out. Your sister loves to dance, so you better take after me and not your father with your musical abilities. Angela and I will need all the help we can get against him. I haven’t decided on your nickname yet, so I’m going to throw anything that pops into my head. I love you, Donut. Mama.”

“Donut,” Dell chuckles. “I like that.”

“More,” Robyn smiles brightly.

Skipping ahead, I land about halfway through and clear my throat before reading the date—just two days before my birthday. “January 9th. My sweet, sweet child. If I get any bigger, I’m going to explode. Please hurry up and meet us. I’ve become a menace, and I fear for your father. He’s a strong man, but these mood swings would be hard for anyone to handle. I cried watching a commercial for laundry detergent today. Then again when I burned my grilled cheese at lunch. But your father said everything would be alright, and, bless his tone-deaf heart, tried his best to sing your melody. It didn’t calm me down so much as it made me laugh. I love you so much, Kluseczko .”

“What does that mean?” Robyn asks, but I have no idea.

Dell grabs his phone and leans over to read the spelling in the journal before typing it in. “Aww, it means ‘little noodle’ in Polish.”

“Another?” Robyn asks.

“Alright, one more, then it’s bedtime. You both need to be up early.”

“Yes!”

I smile and flip near the end. This is so much more than I expected. I expected a little snippet of her life and mine, sure. What I didn’t expect was really remembering her. Remembering her bright blonde hair and even brighter laugh. The way she sang and played piano like she was leading a tavern full of drunks through a ballad. The way she used to carry all of us—together—all over her body, as we giggled and shouted for her to run through the backyard. Then she’d make it as far as she could and yell for my dad to “Go on without me! Save yourself!” I remember her collapsing dramatically, and my father coming to her rescue, peeling child after child off of her with that hero presence he once had. He’d scoop her up and run away with her in his arms as we’d chase after them.

She was strong. She was loud. She was sunshine... and she made every last one of us better.

All at once, I feel as though I’m falling off a cliff, remembering just how broken our life was after she died—how drastically our lives changed. At some point, the pain became normal, expected even. It’s like the curtains were drawn, shutting out the sun and all the levity that came with it.

It all catches up to me, emotion welling in my eyes before I clear my throat again. “December 25th. Merry Christmas, Isaiah. You spent the whole day toddling around, playing in tissue paper, and destroying the Christmas tree. We thought by putting the ornaments up higher, you would stop, but no. You’re a persistent little man and see the next best thing—lights!”

My partners chuckle once again, and I can just imagine my mom, animated as ever, shaking her head with a smile on her face.

I continue reading. “When the whole tree fell over (for the first time today), your big blue eyes looked for us, and you simply said, ‘Uh-oh!’ And oh goodness, you were so eager to help us fix it. My heart soars to see you so determined. You didn’t care that you made the mess, all you were focused on was moving forward and making everything better. I think I can learn a thing or two from you, Isaiah. I love you so much, my little Sugar Plum. Mama.”

Quickly closing the journal, I place it on the shelf next to me and wipe silly tears from my eyes.

“Baby,” Robyn says with a sad smile before wrapping me in a hug. “She sounds like the best mom.” Her words sink deep into my soul, and more memories of her flood my mind faster than the tears fall.

“She was.”

My face is buried in Robyn’s, and then a large hand warms the skin at the back of my neck. Dell manages to pull both of us into his arms as I let it all out for the first time in a long time. Maybe a decade.

Now I remember why I don’t like to think about her—because it hurts so goddamn much. It hurt when she died, but it hurt even worse when our family fell apart because of it.

“I miss her,” I croak, nearly choking on the pain.

“I know,” Dell whispers.

“It’s good that you’re thinking of her,” Robyn says softly.

“You’re a good son, Isaiah. Reading this was hard, but she left the journal for a reason, and you’re honoring her by doing this.”

“You think so?” I whisper through unsteady breathing, and I hate the feeling of being so unsure. I hate being out of control like this.

“Of course,” he says, and his confidence brings me around—it collects and calms me. It reminds me there is steady ground just ahead.

I just have to look up and find my lighthouse in them.

“Thank you for sharing this with us, baby,” Robyn hums.

I finally lift my head from her shoulder and take one long inhale. “I love you both. Thank you.”

“We’re always here for you,” Dell smiles sweetly and leans in for a kiss that relaxes every muscle in my body. How does he do that? “And we love you, too.”

We hold each other for a long time after that, and I’m not sure if it’s because they think I need it or if none of us are willing to break the safety of this emotional bubble we’ve created. But there’s a question knocking around my head, begging to be put out in the open.

Lamps have been switched off and we’re cuddled into each other, but I can still see their relaxed features. Now’s as good a time as any, I guess.

“Guys?”

“Yeah, baby?” Dell replies.

“How do you feel about kids? Like, your own,” I clarify.

Robyn simply kisses my chest and murmurs, “I love kids. But I don’t know if I want them. My whole career is based on my athletic abilities and my body is everything to me right now. But,” she sighs, “maybe someday.”

She’s right. I could never ask her to change her plans, her career, just to have kids. I mean, ever since Zofia and Dominico were born, I’ve considered what my life could look like with children of my own. But this is our situation, not mine alone.

“Not gonna lie,” Dell grins. “You two were giving me butterflies when I watched you play with the babies today. But, I can work with maybe someday. ”

“Me too,” I smile. “It’s your call if you ever wanna make it, Robyn. We’re with you.”

1. I Will Follow You into the Dark (Instr. Version) by The O'Neill Brothers Group