My brother had lasted less than two weeks.
I knelt on the porch boards. Two little faces were asleep, except for the smallest one, who was staring at me with eyes the same gray as my mother’s.
« Hey, » I whispered. « Hey, you. »
Right then, Mrs. Hunter came out of the unit next door in her bathrobe, her slippers slapping the concrete. She’d been my neighbor for six years and never once minded her business, which, that night, turned out to be a mercy.
Two little faces were asleep.
Patricia had brought the triplets by twice that summer, and Mrs. Hunter had sat on the porch cooing over them while their mother rattled off names and birth weights like a proud drill sergeant.
***
« Noah? What in the world?! »
« It’s Daniel’s triplets. »
« Where is he?! »
