Twelve

    Her name was Yolanda. Yolanda Mbuvi. The little girl whose big brown eyes had been staring at me through the door. Her black hair sat atop her head in wiry curls. She had an attitude, but it was still smothered by the fear that she felt as she found herself surrounded by dozens of unfamiliar faces. There had been four little girls and four little boys. Yolanda, Emilyn, Olive, and the youngest, Wendy, at only five years old. And then there was TT, Josiah, Patrick, and my brother, Aaron. While each child was very special and unique, they were all like newborn infants to us, carrying the same attributes of a shy and frightened child. Their personalities could not yet be differentiated due to the common fear that surrounded them. They were always huddled in groups and rarely went anywhere without Miss Frizzle guiding them.

            Aaron had always been more of the independent type, so it came as no surprise when he was the first child to branch away from the group and begin exploring different relationships with the young adults in the house. Naturally, he found himself gravitating towards the other male in the house who shared the same name as him. Daniel’s younger brother took a great fascination to his new “mini him.” I was grateful for his patience with my brother and quickly felt at ease when it came to being able to take my eyes off of little Aaron. I had become so protective, that at times it felt like we were out in the open, no four stonewalls to protect us.

            I sometimes wondered why we had not yet discussed the issue of food. It seemed as though every meal that we ate was prepared lavishly, as though we had plenty of food to spare. I knew that the basement held an elaborate array of stored products, but I couldn’t help but wonder if we were sometimes frivolously eating. I knew that trying to feed thirty-plus people was a daunting task, and could only hope that Lord Sigmund and Daniel had come to a conclusion on rations. I couldn’t help but grip my stomach in a sudden rush as a rumble erupted. Pushing aside these thoughts of allocating and waste, I decided to head towards the kitchen to see if I could find a small snack to hold me off until dinner.

            Past the dinning hall and through the large door was a rather generously sized kitchen. All of the appliances were made of stainless steel and from the highest quality brands, and the cabinets were ebony stained wood with a black marble countertop. Pots and pans hung from an iron grate above the island that stood in the middle of the room. Along the cabinets to left, was a deep two-basin drop-in sink, and on the right wall was a doublewide refrigerator. The cabinets wrapped around the four rectangular walls. A small pantry was set up in the far left corner. Although the size might have been too cramped for Chef Gordon Ramsay, I was confident that he would have approved of how clean and organized the Quills triplets had it.

            “Audrey!” Gracie called as soon as I walked through the door. She beckoned me over to where she stood alongside her sisters at the far end of the island across from the refrigerator. She opened the wide door to grab the orange juice before pouring me a glass. “Daniel came in earlier. He said you might be hungry.”

            I furrowed my brows, but nevertheless took the glass and gulped down a quick sip. “He always seems to know when I’m hungry…even before I do,” I muttered.

            Ramona scoffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had your menstrual cycle memorized yet with the way he watches you.”

            My eyes widened at her comment. I was taken back by both the general thought and her observation of it. Gracie placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Oh, Ramona,” she giggled. “You’re going to frighten the poor girl.”

            And if that wasn’t enough of a dose of unusual behavior, Becky lunged forward and engulfed me in a tight hug. I had to quickly set my glass of orange juice down on the island countertop before her swaying caused it to spill. She pulled back, a large smile plastered across her pale face.

            “The way you talk back to James,” she squealed. “It’s inspiring! He is so cold and heartless. My sisters and I cannot stand him!”

            “Um…you’re welcome,” I managed to get out.

            Each of these three young women held such a strong and different personality. While Ramona was quiet, observant, and somewhat dark, Gracie was energetic, warm, and peaceful. Becky was the in-between one, the one who embraced attributes that both of her sisters shared. She could have moments of exuberance and joy, and then moments of quietness and introversion. There were times where I suspected that she might even be bi-polar. 

            “I cannot believe that you three are triplets. You look nothing alike,” I commented after another sip of the orange juice. They shared the same nose, lips, and petite body, but none of that could have been noticed without close observation.

            “We’re test tube babies!” Gracie cried as though it were the greatest thing in the world. “Our father couldn’t have children. So him and my mother went to in-vitro-fertilization. Our differences are a mix of our parents.”

            “Do you read?” Ramona suddenly cut in.

            “Yeah,” I said. “I haven’t in a while, but a good book or two never hurt anything.”

            A slight smile began to form across her lips. “Then I suppose I can like you,” she said. I had to admit, when these girls weren’t busy cooking, their mannerisms and conversational skills were a bit odd.

            “So who do you like?” was the next questions that I got from an exuberant Becky. For a minute, it felt as though I was the one in my early twenties while they were still in high school.

            “What?” I choked out.

            “Well, there’s dozens of guys to choose from. There are the guys that you brought with you; but you don’t seem like the type to go for younger boys. The Reverend is old. Besides, he has a wife and kids somewhere so you can’t have him. He’s Methodist, so I’m pretty sure its okay that he is married. Then there’s Daniel, James, Hector, Edvard, Cory, and Aaron. Wow, don’t you get the run of the mill!” rambled Becky.

            “Um…” I whispered, growing increasingly uncomfortable by where this conversation seemed to be headed.

            “Oh, don’t worry about us, hunny,” laughed Becky. “We all have our own men. We, the Quills triplets, are dating the Manson triplets. It’s an interesting story, actually. None of them look alike, either.”

            “After the last meeting, we got to make a phone call. We made contact, but haven’t heard from them since,” Ramona spoke. Her voice was like the calm before the storm that was Gracie’s.

            “I’m sure they’ll make it. They have three reasons to,” I said with a soft smile.

            “Soooooooooooooo, about the boys. I’ll let you have up to three,” Becky said with a maniacal grin.

            “Becky!” I cried, flabbergasted and somewhat embarrassed by her suggestion. My face was growing red.

            “Of course, we can’t tell the Reverend,” the youngest triplet continued.

            “Becky!” I cried again, this time my hands flying up to my heated face.

            “Becky, you’re frightening the poor girl,” laughed Gracie. “Besides, everyone here knows it would be Daniel.”

            “Gracie!” I moaned this time.

            “What?” the blonde said innocently. “Everyone can see the way that he looks at you. He’s got it bad.”

            I managed to laugh a little with them, but was still embarrassed. “I rather not discuss this,” I looked away with a light shade of pink cross my cheeks.

            “Fine, fine, fine; but one of these days…” Gracie trailed off, her finger pointed at me.

            “Well,” I said, finishing the last of my orange juice. “Thank you for the juice. I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit.”

            I grabbed an apple from off of the counter before quickly making my way back into the dinning hall. My feet shuffled across the cool floor as I hastily tried putting some space between the Quills triplets and myself. Sometimes they were just too much to handle. I smiled at the small group that was gathered in the living room before jogging up the grand staircase, two steps at a time. I waved to Miss Frizzle who was helping Olive and Wendy to the restroom before continuing up the helical stairs in the dark corner. I pushed open my bedroom door with a rough shove, causing the petite young woman on the bed to jump up.

            “Hey you!” I scowled.

            She looked up at me, eyes wide and confused. Her card game of Solitaire was now a mess by her folded legs. I let a smile break through and she relaxed her shoulders, a low sigh escaping her lips. “Not funny,” she muttered.

            I plopped down on the bed next to her, the cards flying up in the air. She cast me another look as I bit into the red, slightly bruised apple. “So I just had the most unusual and uncomfortable conversation with Gracie, Becky, and Ramona,” I began.

            “Those girls have such a gifted talent in the kitchen, but my goodness, are they awkward any other time,” Brittany snorted.

            “I had such a peculiar conversation with them about which of the six men in this household I find appealing,” I informed.

            Brittany laughed. “And what did you say?”

            “Nothing!” I cried. “There was nothing to say! Especially when Becky talks a mile a minute!”

            “Well, we do share the third floor with six muscular men,” she grinned.

            “Six single muscular men,” I added, wiggling my brows.

            My best friend’s face suddenly softened. She grew quiet as she began to pick up the cards.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked.

            “I miss Junior. I miss my family, but I really, really miss Junior,” she murmured.

            I watched sadness engulf her like a warm, cotton blanket. I had never met any of her boyfriends before, but there was something about this one that seemed to have really captured my best friend’s heart. I knew that their love for music bonded them. With Brittany’s talent on the piano, Junior’s skill at the acoustic guitar complimented each other. Although I had never met him before, their love reminded me of the romance shared between characters of Jane Austin.

            I cupped her hand in mine. “He’s alive. I know it,” I said.

            “I need to see him,” she sniffled. “I need to hear his voice.”

            It broke my heart seeing her this way. I knew that I had to do something. “Come with me,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her from the bed.

            “Where are we going?” she said as I pulled her from the room and down the hall.

            “We are going to find Junior,” I answered.

            Brittany stopped and I felt my pace halted. I turned around to look at her. “What?” she said, in shock.

            I grabbed her hand again, this time tighter, and pulled. “We are going to find Junior. Come on,” I urged.

            Brittany followed me in silence as I pulled her down the spiral stone steps and along the second floor. I continued down the grand staircase and headed towards the door. Cory, Edvard, Brandon, Harry, Hannah, Gracie, Ramona, Becky, and two of the children, Patrick and Emilyn, I think, were all in the living room. But it was James, who was once again sitting in the dark corner, who stood and acknowledged me first.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked just as my hand reached out for the knob of the front door.

            “I need to speak with Daniel,” I said as though it should have ben the most obvious thing in the world.

            James continued to move forward, his heavy boots hitting the wooden floor with an overbearing thud. I took a step back from the front door as he put himself between me and the exit to the outside. His height was intimidating enough. His chest puffed out and I could make out the chiseled muscles under his black shirt. He reached behind him and pulled out a handgun. I took another step back, my eyes glued to the black steal Ruger handgun that he now held. Despite how his facial expression never changed, I could tell through his haunting green eyes how amused he was by my reaction. I dared not turn away, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, and wondered who it was that was also now on edge by James’ actions.

            “About what?” the man said, his voice very deep.

            I inhaled acutely before answering, “It is none of your business.”

            I could feel Brittany’s hand tighten around mine as she stood behind me. James didn’t move for a good two minutes. He then unbolted the front door and opened it. I watched him walk across the porch and down the steps. Daniel was standing by the fountain, a rifle resting in his arms as he scanned the courtyard. A great wave of fresh air hit my nose and I realized how long it had been since I had felt the outdoors. I wanted to run across the grass. I wanted to feel the chilly fall air against my bare skin.

            Daniel slowly turned as he heard James’ footsteps crunch against the gravel of the road. James whispered something and Daniel looked to my direction. He nodded before walking this way. James stayed behind. He took a seat on the edge of the fountain. He rested his elbows against his knees, his back arched. He turned his neck and stared me down until Daniel was blocking his view.

            Daniel closed the door and locked it again. He took the rifle and held it away from us with his left hand. He looked concerned. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

            “Yes, yes,” I murmured. I looked into the living room. Numerous pairs of eyes stared back at me. I lowered my voice. “Could Brittany make a phone call?”

            Daniel bowed his head. I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he was considering my request. He looked from the living room and back to me. “I’ll meet you upstairs, in my room,” he nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”

            I knew what he was going to do. He didn’t want to get the phones out with everyone watching. He was going to make a switch. He was going to put his rifle in the closet and grab the phones. He was smart not having us there for it to make it look like he was showing favoritism. Deep down, I already knew that everyone assumed he did anyway.

            I lowered my head and led Brittany back up the two flights of stairs and back down the hall. I had never been in Daniel’s room. It felt almost scandalous to be walking through the door at the moment. It was very evident that three men lived inside. The soft velvet hunter green couch was where Aaron slept each night. His clothes were thrown across it. The bed in the far right corner must have belonged to James. A bulky black duffle bag sat on the ground by the nightstand. It remained unpacked. It was although James refused to believe that he was here long-term.

            That left the bed to the immediate right, in front of the closet, for Daniel. It was not made as neatly as James’ bed was, but there was a stack of books on the nightstand and a brown leather wallet that I knew to be Daniel’s. His granite gray Under Armour hoodie was thrown across the pillow. It was clear that these men were college boys. In the few weeks that they had been there, they had managed to transform this room into a bachelor pad.

            A door closing behind us made me redirect my attention. Daniel walked further into the room. He pulled two phones from his pockets and let them fall onto the bed. His hair was getting longer and was all disheveled by the fall wind. His face was red and I could tell that he was still cold.

            “Aren’t we breaking rule number four?” I teased.

            “Something like that,” laughed Daniel. “Now, I can’t let you make a long phone call. If whoever you want to contact doesn’t pick up after a few attempts, then we are going to have to call it quits for today.”

            “That’s fine. Brittany would like to contact her boyfriend,” I said.

            I moved aside so that my best friend could make her phone call. She looked down at the two phones that rested on the bed. One was a black LGC395 flip phone and the other was a Samsung droid. Brittany went for the cheaper of the two. She flipped it open and pressed down on the power button. The small device took a few minutes before the white screen lit up and the AT&T logo appeared. I could see her thin fingers shaking as she dialed the number. She brought the phone to her ear.

            “It’s ringing!” she cried. Her joy faltered as it went to voicemail. She looked up at me. “What does that men?” she asked, panicked.

            “Try again,” I encouraged.

            Brittany dialed the number again and we waited as it rang.

            “…Hello…” a scratchy voice came through the other end.

            Brittany’s mouth seemed to freeze, her jaw locked tight. Tears began to pool at her lids. I had to nudge her to get her to speak. “J-junior?” she whispered.

            “Hello?” the man’s voice said again.

            “Junior, can you hear me?” Brittany said, hurriedly.

            “Brittany? Brittany, is that you?”

            “Yes, oh my, yes, Junior! It’s me!” the woman sobbed.

            “I…I can’t…where…Brittany…” his voice was beginning to crack with static.

            “Junior? Junior? Junior!” rasped Brittany.

            A dial tone bled through. Rattled, Brittany dialed once more. “Junior!” she screamed with such fury that I was afraid her small body wouldn’t be able to recover.

            “I can’t…can’t hear you…” he voice tried to scream through the static.

            A three beep rhythm ensued and the connection was lost. I could tell that Brittany was growing both flustered and desperate.

            “Send a text,” I suggested. “Give him your location.”

            Brittany’s distorted vision handicapped her as she tried sending a legible text. Her fingers slid across the keypad, blurring words together as though she were speaking them. It was a four page text, filled with emotion and words that I could not make out. We waited five minutes, but there was no response back.

            “I’m sure he got it,” I encouraged, my hand sliding up and down her back.

            “I’m sorry,” Daniel murmured. “But we have to turn it off. We have to conserve its battery.”

            I had to pry the phone from Brittany’s stiff fingers. She looked so lost and forlorn. I feared that my suggestion had made matters worse. She didn’t seem consoled, but instead more concerned. I handed the phone to Daniel.

            “Did you want to make a call?” he asked me.

            I looked at the device in his large hand. I hesitated. I feared that if I tried to contact my parents and didn’t get through, I would be in a worse off state than my best friend now was. I also feared that if I did make contact with them, that I would either hear bad news, or be tempted to try to find them, and I knew that I would never be able to travel with and even without Lainey and Aaron. Perhaps it was a naïve and juvenile thought, but in the moment, I figured that what I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

            “No,” I murmured. “I have no phone call to make.”