Trying To Endure

Chapter Three

SONG: Nelly Furtado - Promiscuous ft. Timbaland

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April

My nephew trots in, grasping a neon-green lightsaber. Makayla's light-umber skin; her round, fleshy cheeks. Mike's heart-wrenching smile of dimples; his dark hair, coiled and velvety. Overall, Kaison Levesque is his father's son. 

"Where are you going?"

I tug on an oversized denim jacket. "I'm going to a party, Kais."

He hugs my legs, looking up. "Can I come?"

"What about our duel?" Ethan is in the doorway, also yielding a lightsaber. His long curls are tied into a low ponytail, a strand falling over his dark eyes.

Kaison's eyebrows wrench together, patently forgetting about this battle of theirs. He pouts at me. "Sorry, Nanda. I'm busy. Next time I'll come with you!"

Nanda is 'aunty' in Sinhala. We use it for our first blood. Kaison calls me it; mostly he calls me Aunty—I prefer it that way. The former one makes me feel old.

I crouch to his level, my fingers combing his sleepy, cluttered hair. "Hit Ethan, okay?"

Kaison whips Ethan with a cruel, sly grin. He sticks out his pinkie to me. "I'll hit him so hard, Aunty."

"So hard that he'll cry?"

Kaison nods his head fast. "Yes, yes, yes."

Ethan playfully squints his eyes. "We shall put that to the test."

"Kais, which shade?"

The little boy taps his chin, examining. He picks a dark scarlet hue. "This one! Can you put it on me too, please?"

I fake-paint his lips. He rubs his mouth, smacking it open. He drops his lightsaber, skipping to the wardrobe's mirror. A huge grin erupts. He runs out, nearly slamming into Ethan in the process, his thuds zooming downstairs. "Momma! Momma! Look what aunty did! I look so pretty like her!"

Kaison is serotonin. When he was born, Ethan and I harassed Mike and Makayla every minute. 

Where's Kaison?

Mike: next to me. I'm feeding him.

Will you slap me if I get Kaison a doll, I once asked. Mum did that to us — to abolish gender stereotypes.

Mike: If it looks like you, yes.

What is Kaison doing?

Mike: You're getting annoying now.

Your fault for making a baby.

Mike: The condom ripped.

Again. Your fault.

Mike: It's Dad's fault, actually, but okay.

My lips lifted in disgust at that comment. I did not need to know that.

Just stop texting. Kaison is sleeping.

Put your phone on silent then, I texted back. Idiot.

'How's Kaison?'

'He's good,' said Mike on the other end. 'He's asleep now with Makayla.'

Ethan groaned, disappointed.

'We want to inform you that this is Kaison's number now,' I said. 'You mean nothing to us. Take the offence.'

Our older brother sighed as a different masculine laugh rose. 'That's the spirit,' said Luke Matthews.