Lily and Dunkin
: THE TWO OF US

The moment I cross the foyer into Bubbie Bernice’s house, my sweat turns to ice crystals, even on the backs of my knees. It feels like an igloo in here—a gigantic, five-bedroom, six-bathroom igloo with a huge workout room. I wrap my arms across my chest and shiver.

Mom’s in the kitchen sitting at the round table, near the sliding glass doors that lead to the pool. Her eyelids are pink and puffy, but at least she’s not crying anymore. I worry about her. She’s been entirely too sad lately. I hope she snaps out of it soon.

Mom glances at the Dunkin’ bag.

“Breakfast of champions,” I offer lamely, as I slide into a seat near her.

She tilts her head, and her long brown curls fall to one side. “How are you, Norbert?” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Really?”

How am I? I do a quick inventory of my brain. I feel exhausted from what’s been going on. But I still have butterflies in my stomach because that girl smiled at me. Exhausted. Excited. Exhausted. Excited. Part of me wants to leap up and do something. Another part wants to take a long nap in a cool, dark room. How do I explain all this to Mom?

I shrug. “Where’s Bubbie Bernice?”

“She went for a quick six-mile run.”

A quick six-mile run? I look down at myself. My belly bulges a little—maybe more than a little—but I’m tall, so it’s no big deal. Right? “It’s like a million degrees outside.” I bite into one of my two Boston Kreme doughnuts. “Is she going to be all right running out there?”

Mom taps the table with her chewed fingernails and laughs. “Norbert, your bubbie could run a marathon across Death Valley and be fine.”

I take another sweet, creamy bite and lick the chocolate icing off my upper lip. “That’s prob’ly true.”

Mom nods at my doughnut. “Give me a bite.”

I pass Mom the doughnut, and she takes a huge bite from the side I didn’t eat from. “Mmm.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take so much.”

I think about what Mom’s been through, where she had to leave Dad before we came to Bubbie’s house, how far she had to drive to get us here—1,200 miserable, mind-numbing miles—and I hand her my other doughnut.

“You sure?”

I nod. It feels good to do something nice for Mom.

She points at me with the doughnut clutched in her fingers. “Don’t tell your bubbie I ate this. She’ll probably make me do a hundred sit-ups or something to make up for it.”

We both laugh.

“Bubbie is hard-core when it comes to exercise,” I say.

“Mhmm,” Mom says, her mouth full of doughnut.

I wish Dad were here. He loves Boston Kreme doughnuts, too. I doubt they have doughnuts where he is. When Dad was in a good mood, he could chow down half a dozen doughnuts in one sitting. Sometimes a whole dozen, except for the couple Mom and I would eat. And Dad wouldn’t even get big from eating all those doughnuts, except that one time when they changed his meds and he ballooned like the Goodyear Blimp.

That was a rough time.

Mom taps the table again. “Norbert, why don’t we get you some new clothes for school?” She swipes a napkin across her lips. “We can stop for lunch, too. It’ll be nice; just the two of us.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Her words “just the two of us” should be happy, together words, but all I hear is the one of us who’s missing. Dad.

“Unless you want to wait for Bubbie to join us,” Mom says, finishing off her doughnut and licking each finger.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, Norb?”

“Do you think we could…” I’m not sure how to say this. “Could we change my name before I go to this new school?”

Mom bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” I say.

Mom covers her mouth with her hand. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I know kids have made fun of your name in the past.”

“And teachers,” I say.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

I nod.

“And you want to keep that from happening here, huh?”

I nod again.

Mom rubs her left cheek with her knuckles. “You know your dad named you Norbert. He picked that name because it meant a lot to him.”

With those words, all the happy air leaks out of the room. And it’s me and Mom and the weight of what’s happened to Dad between us.

She sniffs hard and dabs at the corners of her eyes with a napkin.

I don’t feel like going out for new clothes or lunch or anything. “Maybe we can go later.”

Mom reaches toward me, but I don’t have the energy to grab her hand, so she gives up and drops it onto the table. I notice chocolate icing on her thumbnail.

I drag my heavy, doughnut-filled, coffee-filled body upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms, where I’m now staying. I push the frilly pillows out of the way and flop onto the big bed. Atop the girlie white comforter, I curl into myself, sweat pooling behind my knees and back and neck, despite the freezing air in the house. I shiver and stare at the mirrored door. I almost expect to see someone else in the reflection. Phineas? Dad?

But all I see is me, curled into a big doughnut shape.

I look sad, like Mom did earlier on.

I want to look happy, like the girl I saw today at 1205 Lilac Lane. The one with the bluest eyes and the pretty red dress.

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