Malik was nine.
Zoe was eight.
Their father lived in another state and saw them during school breaks.
I liked both.
Malik was loud and funny.
Zoe followed me everywhere for the first month and asked approximately a thousand questions.
Suddenly our quiet house had five people.
It felt strange.
Sometimes good.
Sometimes overwhelming.
Renee moved in.
Dad converted the office upstairs into a bedroom for Malik and Zoe when they stayed full time.
I kept my room.
Nothing moved without me deciding.
Dad made that rule.
Then the first Christmas after the wedding approached.
That was when everything began changing faster.
The first disagreement involved the tree.
Renee wanted a new one.
Artificial.
Nine feet tall.
Pre-lit.
She showed us a photograph on her phone.
All white lights.
Champagne ornaments.
Red ribbon.
Perfect.
“It’ll look incredible in the living room.”
Dad looked at me.
I said:
“What about ours?”
Renee smiled.
“We can donate it.”
Our old artificial tree was seven feet tall.
Green.
A little lopsided after years of use.
Mom had bought it when I was three.
“The ornaments won't fit on that tree?”
I asked.
“They could.”
Renee hesitated.
“But I was thinking we do something more cohesive.”
I hated that word immediately.
“Cohesive?”
“A fresh look.”
Dad said:
“We can use both.”
Renee looked at him.
“What?”
“New tree in the front room.”
“Old tree in the family room.”
Our house had an open-plan living area.
Technically two spaces.
Possible.
Renee smiled.
“If that matters to Amara.”
It did.
We used both.
Renee decorated her tree.
It looked like a magazine.
White lights.
Large red balls.
Champagne ornaments.
Velvet ribbon.
A gold star.
Beautiful.
Our old tree went near the fireplace.
I decorated it with Grandma Pearl.
Malik and Zoe helped.
The first time Zoe picked up one of Mom’s ornaments, she whispered:
“Your mom made this?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
She held it carefully.
That made me love her a little.
Renee watched from kitchen.
She smiled.