I took the washcloth from Izzy’s head, soaped it up, and then handed it to her. “Stand and wash your private parts.”
Izzy stood and dug the washcloth into her butt and then her vagina, scrubbing back and forth with a crinkled little concentrating face. She sat and rinsed herself.
“My mom is a bad witch,” Sheba said.
“Really?” Izzy and I both looked at Sheba.
“God, yes. An awful witchy, witchy woman. She only loves my brothers.”
I wanted to ask questions but wasn’t sure if that was allowed. Instead I grabbed a towel and held it open for Izzy. Izzy stepped out of the tub and into the towel. “Why does she love your brothers?” Izzy asked, like she was reading my mind.
“She’s an old-fashioned witch who thinks boys are good and should get all the money and all the attention and girls are bad. Especially girls who like to kiss boys.”
“Do you like to kiss boys?”
I tucked the towel up at Izzy’s neck so she was wrapped like a burrito. I wanted to run and get her clean pajamas but didn’t want to miss Sheba’s answer.
“Yes. Especially Jimmy. I love to kiss Jimmy!” Sheba laughed, leaned over, and pulled the Izzy burrito into her arms. I went to get Izzy’s pajamas.
When I came back, Sheba was singing “There Is Nothin’ Like a Dame” to Izzy. I sang along while I unwrapped the towel and put Izzy in her pajamas. She peed and brushed her teeth and then I picked her up and the three of us marched into her bedroom, which was still clean, as Izzy and I spent a little time each day straightening it.
I tucked Izzy under the covers and then sorted through the stack of books we had laid by the bed.
“Madeline!” Izzy said. I dug out Madeline.
“I want to hear too.” Sheba climbed onto the bed and lay on Izzy’s other side, against the wall. I lay on the outside and opened the book.
I read the book and also floated above the three of us and watched myself reading the book. I was snuggled in close to warm, soapy-smelling Izzy, who fit against my torso like a foot in a slipper. Sheba was stretched out long with her arms flung over her head, her black hair pooled behind her like an oil spill. A steady current of contentment ran through me like a tuning fork humming deep in my bones. I hoped that I would be a mom one day and the person I loved to kiss would lie on the other side of our kid while I read stories. It seemed like a simple desire. The twins both wanted to be the first woman president. They had agreed that one would be president and the other would be vice president the first four years, and then they’d swap.
When the book was finished, Izzy was asleep. We lay there in silence. I could feel that we three were breathing in unison, our chests rising and falling as one. Then Sheba leaned up onto her elbows, looked over at me, and nodded toward the door. I slipped out of the bed and then reached my arm out to Sheba so she could stand on the bed and step over Izzy without waking her. Just as Sheba was straddling Izzy, her legs in a long upside-down V, Izzy popped open her eyes and said, “Wait.”
Sheba stepped off the bed and said, “What?”
“Is your witch mom a pretty witch or an ugly witch?”
“She’s pretty if you look at her picture. But when you talk to her, the bad witchiness comes out and you can see that she isn’t really pretty at all.”
“Can we see a picture of her?”
“I don’t have one with me. I’ll draw one tomorrow.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Close the door all the way.”
“I will.”
“I never heard of a five-year-old wanting to sleep with the door closed,” Sheba said.
“The witch can’t get through my door.”
“Ah. I see. The maraschino cherry witch?”
“Yes, Mary Jane says she’s good, but until we’re ONE HUNDRED PURCHASE SURE, we have to close the door.”
“One hundred percent,” I said.
“ONE HUNDRED PERCENT.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Sheba said. “Good night.”
“Wait,” Izzy said again. Sheba and I both stood still, looking at her round little face crowned in red curls. “If Sheba joins our team, then the ratio of us to the witch is”—Izzy pointed at us and then herself as she counted—“three to one.”
“Okay, I’m in,” Sheba said.
“That’s a good ratio,” I said. “Good night.”
Sheba sang, “Gooood niiiiight,” like the kids from The Sound of Music.