barbecue and rented decorations.
Whenever I asked for something for my brothers, Valerie had the same answer.
‘We’re not made of money, June.’
I tried to be helpful.
At eight years old, I knew how to fold tiny clothes, heat water safely with adult supervision, and recognize when the twins needed changing.
But at Valerie’s house, supervision became something I rarely received.
She would disappear into her bedroom for hours, leaving me with the babies and instructions not to disturb her unless the house was on fire.
Grant worked from home on some days, yet he seemed to regard my brothers’ crying as a personal insult.
Once, when Miles was hungry, I knocked gently on his office door.
He opened it just enough to glare at me.
‘Your aunt has already explained the feeding schedule.’
‘But he didn’t finish his bottle earlier,’ I whispered.
‘Then he can wait until the next one.’
He closed the door.
I carried Miles back upstairs and rocked him while he cried against my shoulder.
It was the first time I understood that an adult could hear a baby crying and simply choose not to help.
Two weeks later, I found something important while unpacking my school bag.
My mother had tucked a small card inside the zippered pocket.
On it she had written a telephone number and a name: Nadia Chen.
Underneath were four words.
‘Call if you need help.’
I didn’t know who Nadia was.
When I showed the card to Valerie, she snatched it from my hand.
‘That’s estate business,’ she said.
‘Children don’t need to concern themselves with lawyers.’
She slipped it into a kitchen drawer and told me to forget about it.
But I had already memorized the last four digits.
And I remembered where the drawer was.
By July, Leo had developed a persistent cough.
His cheeks were flushed, and he sometimes refused his bottle.
I told Valerie he needed a doctor.
She said babies caught colds all the time.
The next morning, I asked again.
She responded by accusing me of trying to embarrass her.
‘You want everyone thinking we can’t take care of you, don’t you?’
I shook my head.
I wanted someone to examine Leo.
I wanted Miles to stop crying at night.
I wanted to sleep without worrying that one of my brothers would become quiet for a reason I didn’t understand.
Three days before the incident, our neighbor, Mr.
Okafor, found me standing near the side fence.
He was a retired school principal with silver hair, a patient voice, and a habit of watering his tomatoes every evening.
‘June,’ he called, ‘is everything all right?’
I tried to say yes.
Instead, I started crying.
He didn’t ask a dozen questions.
He opened the gate, brought me a glass of water, and sat on the garden bench while I told him what had been happening.
I explained that the babies were hungry, that Leo had been sick, and that Valerie was angry whenever I asked for help.
Then I told him about the card in the kitchen drawer.
He wrote down the name and the digits I remembered.
‘I think we should find this person,’ he said.
The following afternoon, he told me he had located Nadia Chen’s office and spoken with her directly.
She
