Page 97 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
“I’m making a special Valentine for Madison Prescott,” Aidan announces. “She is the most beautiful girl in the world!”
This is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen the kid.
“Eat your cereal,” Uncle Martin says, and I hear the snap of the newspaper.
Martin is a relic of a world that still reads physical newspapers. He likes to snap the pages and get black ink on his hands. He’s a man who needs that physical ritual with his bacon and eggs and coffee in the morning.
“I’m gonna marry that girl,” Aidan says dreamily around bites of whatever sugary cereal is in his bowl. “She has golden wavy hair, and she looks like a fairy princess.”
Uncle Martin makes what I can only describe as a skeptical sound.
“Oh, and for the party, I drew cupcakes from the bowl.”
“Huh?” Uncle Martin sounds as confused as I am right now.
“Thebowl. The empty fish bowl!” He says this as if understanding what an empty fish bowl has to do with this is an obvious thing everyone should know.
There is a drawn out pause where Uncle Martin’s brain might be collapsing in on itself.
“Here,” Aidan says, sounding exasperated. “It’s all written out here.”
I can only imagine the kid shoving some papers at his uncle since I don’t get any actual visuals from inside the house. A bug is one thing, installing cameras is a whole other level of logistics.
Aidan continues, “So, anyway… there were folded up pink pieces of paper in this fish bowl, and we each got to draw one to see what we’re bringing to the party besides our valentines. I drew cupcakes. So I have to bring cupcakes. And I need them to be chocolate with pink frosting because everybody likes chocolate, and I don’t want to be the loser who brings vanilla. And also Madison likes pink. Oh and there needs to be sprinkles. And we have to get them from the good bakery. If you make them, they’ll be bad, and the grocery store ones aren’t good either.”
I’m amazed this kid is such a cupcake connoisseur, but it’s clear he’s thought all this out. He must really like this girl.
“You need to bring all this on Valentine’s Day?” Uncle Martin asks.
“No, the party is on the eleventh. On Friday. Read!”
“Why not Valentine’s Day? That’s a school day, too.”
“Mrs. Schroder said kids might forget on Monday, and also that we’ll be too excitable the rest of the week. She wants to do it on Friday so we can get the wiggles out over the weekend.”
I nearly spit out my coffee as he quotes her reasoning.
“Her friends call her Maddie. I think that issocool. She is so cool,” Aidan says, going back to waxing poetic about all the virtues of Madison.
Martin sighs. “I wouldn’t get too attached to the girls. They’ll break your heart. And they’re a liability.”
“What’s a lie-bility?” he asks, and I can almost see his nose scrunch up in confusion.
“It means they’re no good. They’ll cause trouble and pain. Stay free. Be a bachelor like your smart uncle.”
I’m pretty sure he’s referencing himself. Uncle Martin never married, so he has a housekeeper who also cooks for them. I guess he ran the numbers and figured just hiring a woman was cheaper than marrying one for free domestic servitude. And really, the math checks out.
“Well, I’m marrying her. And we’ll just see about all this,” Aidan says. And that’s the end of that conversation.
“Hurry up, you’ll miss your bus,” Martin says.
And as if by magic, I see the school bus turning the corner and coming down the street. A moment later there’s some shuffling and clattering, and a happy Aidan pops out the front door with his school bag. Baxter follows him outside, tail wagging.
Both I and the golden retriever watch as he gets on the school bus, sits down with another kid, and the bus starts to move again. Since he’s been with Uncle Martin, he’s been at a different school. Martin’s house is in a better school district. He seems to be making friends, which is an improvement from the last setup.
Oh my god, just shoot me now. I do not need to know all of these facts about this kid. But of course I’ll find a way to lurk and learn what goes down at this Valentine’s party. I need to check out this Madison kid.
When the school bus has gone past, I start up my car and stop at a local diner to have a proper breakfast: a medium rare T-bonesteak, hash browns, eggs sunny-side up, and more coffee. While I wait for my food, I read an old-fashioned print newspaper. Martin isn’t the only one with this fetish. A TV suspended above the counter plays the news report from Punxsutawney. I missed the official livestream, but they’re replaying it, allowing me to learn my wintry fate. From a groundhog. Maybe I am superstitious.
