OLIVIA

Even the arrival at this new home made me wonder how I was going to do this on my own. I glanced into the rearview mirror as I pulled into the cobblestone driveway and saw Nuru and Jessie asleep in their carseats. As soon as I confirmed they were safe and sound, I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. The automatic parking brake locked in, and I shut down the engine before reaching for my bag. August heat hit me like a soggy blanket, and I immediately went to open the back doors to keep the girls from suffocating. I was about to get out and go inside when I realised; I couldn’t. Usually, I would grab my things and whatever else I needed, then call Rob outside to help me with the toddlers or my stuff. Now, there was no Rob, and no help. All I had was my two hands and myself.

Distant sounds of children playing nearby let me know that my new neighbours and their kids must have been enjoying their summer. I went into the trunk to search for the stroller, which I found behind a box labelled “kitchen.” As carefully as I could, I moved the box to the side and tried to pull the stroller out. Balancing a stroller, a heavy box, and a bag on my shoulder must have been the reason that the kitchen box toppled down and out of the trunk. With an “eek” I tried to stick out my leg or something to keep it from hitting the ground. But, when I heard the telltale cracks and sounds of shattering ceramic, all I could do was cringe.

“Shit, shit, shit...” I made sure to whisper, not wanting my kids to hear me swear and have that added to their limited vocabulary.

I couldn’t think about that now, or wonder if my favourite Christmas mug had been caught in the crossfire of my clumsiness. With the box out of the way, it was easier for me to get the stroller. It came free of the trunk, and I sighed when I finally opened it up. Getting my twins into it proved to be the easiest part of the whole ordeal. They whined a bit in their unconscious state, and almost managed to cling to me as I put them into the stroller. I closed the doors, then stared at the stroller with my hands settled on my hips. Now that they were there, I had no idea what to do next. Did I put them in the house and have them sleep while I moved my small amount of things in? Or have them by the car-

Before I could finish the thought, I grabbed the box with their playpen, put it in the lower compartment of the stroller, and rolled everything inside. 

The house was different from what I remembered during the tour. Its dark brown door seemed cleaner than before, without the former owner’s family name in chalk on the front. There were no steps leading up to the door, one of the reasons I picked this house over the others. I put in the gold key and turned the lock open, making a mental note to get a more sophisticated security system soon enough.  The doorknob was cool from the shade, and the smell of wood polish and lemons filled my nose when the door swung open, and even my footsteps echoed throughout the entryway. The house was new, clean, and devoid of any signs that anyone had lived there before. 

The backs of my sandals clacked against the floor as I pushed the stroller into what would be the dining room. “Shoes inside just this one time,” I whispered to no one in particular before I placed the stroller in the corner, where I could see the girls, and went as quickly as I could to set up their temporary napping spot. 

Moving was never something I’d enjoyed doing, and not something I had to deal with much before. My family stayed in the same house all my life, and I only took a couple of suitcases with me when I moved in with Rob years back. I didn’t have to worry about how to organise things so that you knew where they go when you unpack your shit, or how much newspaper to put around your dishes before you put them into a box.

“I told you to wait,” my sister said through the phone, which was sitting on the speckled marble kitchen counter while I stared at the mess I had made of my dishes. Almost everything was cracked or broken, aside from the one bowl that I didn’t care much for. I would have to make time now to buy plates and a new favourite mug. 

I shook my head, not that Britney could see me, “I needed to get out of there. You don’t know what it’s like to be in the same house as someone that’s...” 

She sighed on the other side of the line, and I could tell she took that as a sign to pivot the conversation. “Okay, well, I’m gonna come help because my little sister shouldn’t be uprooting her life alone.”

“No, I think I just need-”

“Olivia, stop it. I’m not gonna get into how messed up this is, especially since he should be there handling his fuck-up. I have your location, I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

She hung up before I could say anything, left with my mouth open and staring at my phone. I huffed, put the good dishes aside, and the broken ones back into the box. 

I decided to unpack the rest of the kitchen boxes, and I was nearly done with the last one that was labelled “SERVING SPOONS, ETC” when there was a knock at the door. I might’ve wondered who it was if Britney hadn’t yelled, “Olivia! Open up!” 

“I brought snacks,” my sister smiled with oreos and chips in her arms. I looked down at the food, and I wished she had brought golden oreos instead. As though she’d read my mind, she nodded at the bag I didn’t notice before, hanging from her forearm. “Yes, I got the ones you like.”

For whatever reason, that made me start crying again. I sobbed quietly, my vision blurring, and Britney rushed us into the mostly-empty house. She looked around frantically, then rushed into the kitchen and put her stuff down on the counters.

“Come here,” Brit hugged me, pulling me head toward her chest. She shushed me as I wept. I didn’t even want to think about how wet I’d gotten her shirt, and I was grateful that I felt too drained to put on any makeup earlier. After a while, I stopped crying, and Britney searched for something I could wipe my face with aside from the back of my hand.

“I was going to ask how you’re doing, but I think I know,” she smiled, and I laughed a little despite myself.

I shook my head, “I’m just waiting for the moment when I’m over it and I’ve moved on and it’s just a part of my past.”

Instead of wallowing more, I moved onto another box of things and started unpacking. While I could feel Britney watching me with eyes full of pity, I focused on the task at hand. My goal was to have as much unpacked as I could before the delivery truck got her with the furniture. Britney grabbed a couple boxes as well, which were labelled “LIVING ROOM” and unloaded those. We’d gotten through five by the time the delivery got her. I went to answer the door, and Britney stayed to keep an eye on the toddlers.

An older, tall Black man with a grey beard and a kind smile was waiting at the door when I opened it. I could see a few guys behind him by the truck when I greeted him. He handed me a sheet of paper to sign, which I read over carefully. The last thing I needed was to put my name on something that would come back to bite me later.