“I know Sam and I are grounded until Sam starts shaving,” I say to The Ruler when they’re home from school. “But if you think about it, that’s a pretty unhealthy punishment.” I put on a serious, logical face.
The Ruler looks up from the couch where she’s typing on her laptop.
Sam stops reading and sets his book on the coffee table.
“What do you mean, Sherry?” The Ruler says.
“Being stuck in the same place day after day could stunt our emotional growth.”
Obviously sensing this won’t be a short conversation, she turns off her computer and folds down the screen. “Just last night, the two of you visited a cemetery. Sam attended school today, and you’ll both be at school tomorrow. That’s getting out and about.”
I perch on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, keeping my back perfectly straight so she’ll relate better to me. “I’ve been inside all day. I definitely need some exercise, which isn’t easy given this.” I jiggle my cast. “How about Sam and I walk to the bus stop, then ride over to Dairy Queen, where I’ll buy him an ice cream out of my allowance. It’ll stretch our legs, broaden our horizons and teach Sam about generosity. And”—I pause for dramatic effect—“I’ll pick up some of that soy milk you love.” End of rehearsed speech. Behind my ramrod back, I cross my fingers for luck.
Sam owl-blinks.
The Ruler’s lips twitch at the corners. “Are you already feeling a little housebound, Sherry?”
“Maybe a little,” I say.
“I do want to run over to school and see how this new code affects our robot’s performance.” Thinking, she places a finger on her bottom lip. “You’ll take your cell phone? It will only be the two of you? You’ll order small cones and not ruin your appetites for dinner?”
I nod after each of her questions.
Sam’s still owl-blinking.
“Okay, then.” The Ruler stands. “I’ll drop you off at Dairy Queen and pick you up after I’ve done a little robotic testing. I don’t want you riding the bus so soon after breaking your wrist.”
That is such a mom statement. Like climbing on a bus and a broken wrist are even related. I smile. “Thank you.” With my good arm, I pull Sam to his feet and drag him, still stunned, through the front door.
The Ruler chitter-chatters about robotics for pretty much the entire drive. She really wants to figure out why the Saguaro bot let the Donner bot walk all over it at the practice competition. I wish I could tell her to let it go, that the Donner bot is now under control because Dylan’s under control. But I can’t.
She stops in front of Dairy Queen. “Is half an hour long enough?”
Actually, a little over five minutes is long enough. “Sure,” I say, “or even less.”
I’m pulling on the DQ door handle when Sam says, “What’s going on, Sherry? I secretly follow you to a cemetery. We both end up grounded. But you’re buying me ice cream? I don’t get it.” He plants himself between me and the door. “I’m not going in till you spill.”
Ack. Eek. Ike.
Is it asking too much that I get this kid to his Real Time appointment?
I shrug, acting all nonchalant. “I just wanted out of the house, Sam. You’re my excuse.”
“Is Josh really meeting you here, and I’m your cover?”
Talk about your suspicious eight-year-old. No, no, no. This isn’t even about me and my boyfriend. Just hustle yourself to the back room, little brother, and you’ll get to hang with Mom. Sure, you won’t remember it. But a part of your brain won’t forget it either.
I paste on a fake scowl. “Josh might show. But keep it to yourself.”
He smiles and scoots through the door. “Okay, but it’ll cost you a large Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard.”
I think the same overly pregnant woman from last Friday is still standing in front of the Oreo Brownie Earthquake poster.
Once we have our treats, I herd Sam toward the rear of the restaurant, where we easily find a booth. Just like Mrs. Howard promised, it’s empty.
I pick off a wedge of chocolate shell from my dipped cone.
With a grin, Sam dips his plastic spoon into his Blizzard.
My cone in my left hand, I use my right hand to fold a napkin into smaller and smaller squares.
With each fold, an incredibly cool feeling mushrooms inside me. I am giving Sam a gift. Which he doesn’t even know about. And somehow that makes it even more amazing.
Cinnamon and sugar tickle my nose and Mrs. Howard hazily materializes beside me. “It’s time, Sherry. You can wait at the front of the store.”
“Hey, Sam, I’m gonna get some water.” I stand.
He nods, all busy and noisy, scooping up his Blizzard.
I back away slowly, my eyes on his face. Mrs. Howard stays by me.
Sam’s cheeks are puffy, full of his frozen treat, when the smell of coffee wafts into the back room. The bench seat across from him, where I was sitting, sinks a little. An invisible someone picks up the napkin I was fiddling with and continues folding it.
Sam startles and gazes up, like he heard his name. The spoon drops from his grasp. He beams. Hugely. You could turn off all the lights, and DQ would still be lit up.
“Hi, Mom!” Sam says. “Did you get off work early?”
And he has this look on his face that kids get when there’s a surprise. Like if the ice cream truck unexpectedly drives up your street in the winter and your mom lets you buy a treat. Giddy and happy and excited. A look I haven’t seen much on Sam’s face since our mom died. A look I helped give him today.
“Sherry’s here too,” Sam says. “She actually bought this Blizzard for me.”
I can’t hear my mom’s response.
Sam nods. “Yeah, she is a great sister.”
Mrs. Howard prods me in the small of my back. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
I plod through Dairy Queen and out the door, then flop cross-legged on the sidewalk. I twirl strands of hair around my finger while my ice cream melts. Tears stream down my face.