What I Can't Recall

I’m sitting in the kitchen early the next morning, talking to Bryler over breakfast- same Cheerios as always- when Sarah walks in, already completely dressed, her hair done, makeup put on. I look down to my sweat pants and tank top and feel very underdressed for the unknown occasion that apparently is taking place today. I’m fixing to comment on how nice she looks and ask by the way, why the heck are you dressed up anyways, when I hear a knock at the door, followed by someone just barging in anyways.

"I'm here!" I hear a sweet, angelic voice call out, so loud it echoes through the house. I look to who it's coming from, to find myself staring at the face of the devil.

"Oh, Jenny! Look at you! You've grown so much! What grade are you in now? Do I see some teeth missing? How old are you? How is school? Where did your mom find that adorable outfit?" Sarah asks a million questions all at once, while rushing over to the door to cover Jenny in a gigantic hug. While all this goes on, Jenny just smiles blankly at her, and I can tell she’s preparing herself to spit out all the answers, as politely as possible.

Before Jenny can answer any of the questions, Bryler stands up and announces that he will be outside, and that if anyone needs him, they should leave him alone. He motions for me to follow him, and we head outside, exiting the kitchen through the back door.

It is a pretty day- the sun’s just started to come out, and the sky is that pink-blue color that the sky always is in pictures or movies at sunrise. I climb on to the porch railing and lay out. I close my eyes and let what little of the sun is out cover my skin. Bryler sits down nest to me, holding his right knee loosely. Some part of my heart does that flutter thing as I take note of how cute he looks, but I once again force it to stop.

"The devil has arrived," he informs me, sighing lightly. I’m pretty sure Jenny is the one and only thing he hates about the summer; she always comes and stays for a few days to give his aunt a break from her; I can see why she needs one. I could never deal with that running around my house and demanding things twenty-four seven. I hope my kids don’t turn out like that.

"I see. So what's the game plan?" I ask, closing my eyes and yawning. It’s still way too early for me to be completely awake. The only reason I am awake is because Bryler accidentally knocked over his entire book shelf this morning when he got up at like four thirty in the morning to do who-the-heck-knows-what. After making fun of him, I offered so kindly to help him to pick it all up. Something I shouldn’t have done, because after that I couldn’t go back to sleep. And I need some sleep.

"I was thinking we should go with the whip-cream-on-the-face. It's a classic, and I know how much she hates it. Oh, and we could also put some in her hair for good measure. She has some sort of unhealthy obsession with her hair being clean," he explains, and I can practically hear his devious smile despite my inability to see it.

"That sounds good," I say distantly. Most people would say it's pretty mean to pull pranks on an innocent nine year old girl. Most people don't know Jenny, though. Jenny would be the kind of little girl that, if your eyes are closed long enough, will rearrange everything in your room so that you can't even find your own clothes, which is quite unfortunate when you have a guest coming over and you sleep only in boxers and a white t-shirt. Especially when the guest happens to be me and I have to spend an hour trying to help Bryler find his clothes. Talk about awkward. I thought Bryler was going to kill Jenny, but it’s two years later an somehow she’s managed to survive.

“I’m really not looking forward to whatever she’s got up her sleeve this time,” he tells me, groaning. Maybe he was thinking about what she‘d done these last years, too, and wondering if she’s going to out-do herself.

"At least there is one good thing out of her coming," I point out to him, trying to be at least a little bit optimistic about the situation. There was only so much unhappiness I could handle, and it was already starting to flow over the brim. "Because otherwise we'd never get Sarah to leave us alone in Boston."

"No, that’s not worth it. Nothing could ever be worth her coming," he disagrees. I open my eyes, sitting up slightly before saying anything.

"What if... what if Jenny somehow convinced Sarah that she really needed to go to George's Minimart, and so Sarah made you walk with her there? And while you were there, you decided that you might as well sign up for that contest to win the F-150 Pickup? And you actually won? And all because she came. Then would it be worth it?" I ask him, thinking that I had a pretty good point.

"Nope," he says while nodding his head, struggling to keep a grin off his face. He’s always been bad about that. He can hide it decently when he’s sad or angry or any other emotion in the world, but he never could hide his happiness. Yet another thing I really like about him.

"Okay, well what if when she stopped at some gas station in Boston on the trip down here, she left her little purse there and Martin Johnson found it and decided to return it to her right here and he came and met us and gave us free backstage passes and tickets to their next concert and a signed CD?" I ask him slowly, weaving the story carefully together, making sure it makes sense as I say it.

"I don't like Boys Like Girls that much. I‘m not completely obsessed,” he replies teasingly. “That'd be you."

"Okay, okay, I'll take that as a no then,“ I say, giving myself a minute to think about a new possible scenario. “Well, what if Peter Griffin was at the mall and saw Jenny there, only to mistake her for Stewie, and he took her home. And then the real Stewie became extremely jealous when Brian and Jenny started hanging out and becoming friends, so instead of trying to kill Lois, he decided to try to kill Jenny instead? And Meg and Chris decided to help him do the deed because they all just got sick and tired of Peter‘s suicide attempts, which were happening because Jenny hung him in a locker at school and all the kids started making fun of him? And when he failed at his suicide attempts, he became even more depressed, so he decided to sleep with Bill Clinton again? Which made Lois angry, so of course she wanted to help do away with Jenny, too? And by some miracle they actually succeed? Plus that got it all and tape, and aired the show."

"You watch too much Family Guy. Things that wonderful never happen in real life," he tells me after a moment of pondering, no longer even trying to keep the grin off his face, which is wider than it’s been in a while. I haven’t had this good of a time with him in a long while. Not since Mom…

I sigh, agitated at myself for bringing that up and reminding me. I don’t know whether I am glad or upset about this, but most of the time I find it easy not to even think about Mom at all. As long as I’m thinking of something else, avoiding anything that has to do with her, then I’m fine. It’s like she’s away on vacation and I’m staying with Bryler and Sarah for a while. As long as nothing to do with her is brought up, it’s like nothing ever happened. This feeling started just recently; I just got rid of that numb feeling. The one where you just kind of exist, and aren’t really aware of much beside that. You just do what you have to do, and otherwise you get the feeling you’re just kind of there.

Bryler clears his throat loudly, brining me back into the real world, as he’s waiting for some kind of response from me. I wonder for a moment how long exactly I’d been alone with my thoughts before just forgetting it and coming up with probably the lamest retort ever.

"But it'd still be worth it," I argue, crossing my arms, which is a very awkward thing to do when you’re sitting in the position I’m in. I keep them crossed them anyways.

"Peter Griffin isn't real," he states blandly, using his hand to push his hair out of his face. I didn‘t notice it before now, but part of it is sticking up in the back, where he slept on it weird. I smile a little; it‘s cute. But then I frown, reminding myself not to like him.

"Yes he is,” I go on in disagreement once I get the butterflies in my stomach to go away for a moment. “He is the idol of drunks, rednecks, and wasted teens everywhere. He will always live on, in their minds."

"You got me there," he says, laughing at how stupid I’m being. But I have a good reason to be. It’s early and I didn’t get all that much sleep last night; I stayed up late with Bryler. We sat in his room and talked the night away, until around two in the morning. The entire time I was willing myself not to like him so much. I don’t want to feel this way; for some reason it doesn’t feel right when Mom’s gone.
"Well, we better get back inside," I say after a few more moments of just sitting there, letting the silence get the best of us. We‘re both incredibly sleepy and therefore it isn‘t the easiest thing in the world to make conversation. "We can’t avoid Jenny forever. And I want to finish my cheerios before they get all soggy and gross.”

"Okay, okay. You win, we’ll go inside," he says, swinging his legs over to the other side and leaping off the porch. “But when the little devil does something devious, I’m blaming you.”

I snort. “Whether or not we go inside right now, she’s going to do something devious at some time,“ I point out, as I jump down off the porch railing.

“Yeah, but it makes it more bearable if I can blame someone,” Bryler says with a grin as we walk inside. Bryler and I walk around the corner to see Jenny full-out running towards us, a glass of grape juice in hand. I manage to get out of the way, but Bryler- however- is not as lucky.

"Aw, shh-crap!" He yells, remember his mom is there at last moment, looking down at his white t-shirt that's now completely covered in purple grape juice stains. Right when Bryler is about to absolutely go off on Jenny, Sarah stops him by interrupting.

"Just go change shirts. No need to get worked up over spilt milk. Or in this case, spilt grape juice," she says calmly, holding up her hand, as if she’s going to have to use it to push the two apart.

Bryler starts down the hallway towards his room, mumbling something about the anti-Christ, and before I know it, Jenny is right in front of me, ready to strike up conversation.

"Hello, September," she says very formally, smiling at me. It kind of creeps me out, but I just sit down at the table in front of my cereal anyways. She takes a seat as well and looks at me expectantly.

"Hey," I mutter back. It worries me that she's actually talking to me. We usually acknowledge one another with a nod or something, but never talk.

"Auntie Sarah says that you live here, now," she tells me conversationally, setting the creepy-looking doll that she carries with her everywhere on the table top. If memory serves me right, the doll’s name is Jacey, and she’s had it ever since she was a little baby. It’s old-looking enough for me to believe it. If you ask me, nine is a little bit too old to be carrying around some baby doll, but who am I to judge?

"Well, yeah," I respond sheepishly, not really wanting to go there. I try to smile, but the right corner of my mouth only moves up a fraction of an inch, probably making it appear as a disgusted face instead.

"How come?" She asks, innocently enough, looking up at me through her eyelashes; going for the cute-little-girl-who-means-no-harm-and-is-just-curious approach.

"Well, uh, becau-" I start to say, but get cut off by Bryler, who is shouting as loud as possible, "Jenny, I am going to absolutely kill you!”

"And so it begins," I mumble under my breath, standing up as I grab my bowl, headed for the sink.