Page 33 of A Fine Line

My telepathy must have been off because Winnifred’s hand left mine for the first time since we initially grabbed each other and she stood grabbing her glass and following my mom into the kitchen one wall away.

“Hey, what do you guys think about the name Gus for a girl?”

“Is it short for something?”

“Like was? Gusana?”

“No, like August or something.”

“Oh my gosh August is sooo cute, babe, let’s consider August.”

“Heck, at this point let’s consider November. Or what about December. No, she’s not due for a while. What about July? Come here, my little July. And when she turns four we can all have a fourth of July party.”

“I sense your sarcasm and I do not love it-”

“Wrong, you love it.”

Liam and Marigold and eventually all of my siblings started suggesting Calendar months for baby girl names and I was trying desperately to block them all out so I could tell what was happening in that kitchen so close but so, so far away.

Just as I couldn’t take it anymore, I stood and attempted to turn the corner when a hand stuck out and wrapped around my wrist. I looked back to see Liam and Nathan both staring at him. “Dude.” Liam’s eyes widened and pointed in the kitchen like that was supposed to tell me anything.

“What?” I hissed

“You’ve been holding out on us, seriously. You’ll text us updated on your bowel movements but don’t tell us you have a girlfriend?”

Rachel spoke up next. “Isn’t it obvious? That’s why he told Calla he didn’t want to be set up with anyone like months ago. Little Crew is smitten.”

I hated when they called me Little Crew but I could tell Rachel was trying her best to help me cover, considering only three weeks ago we were given the great salt bomb of ‘24 by the red head baker. She winked at me, quick and dismissing and I would have to remember to stop by her record store with an array of carne sada tacos this week.

“But still, why didn’t you say anything?” Liam asked and now the rest of the table was intently listening in. Well, except Dad. He was stealing a roll from Layla’s plate when she wasn’t looking.

I shrugged. “It’s new. And I don’t know if it’s going to be super serious so let’s just calm down.”

Calla waved a hand. “Of course it’s serious, you brought her to dinner.”

“Yeah, because mom practically threatened to knife me if I didn’t. Just-” I lowered my voice. “Just don’t expect her to be around forever.”

“Hmmm…” Layla and Calla made a look to each other, and then to Marigold before they all turned back to eye me.

“What?” I asked on the offense.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

I rolled my eyes and gave up, turning to the kitchen and praying they all just left it alone. When I cut the corner I saw my mom already had her phone out, swiping right. “Oh and here was his kindergarten graduation, he wanted to be a chef even then. He was obsessed with Hell’s Kitchen but we had to watch it on mute cause he would go to school bossing everyone around.”

Winnie laughed with her head tossed back and lifted a hand to point at the screen. “Wait you have to text me this one too, okay? And the spiderman one.”

My mom was practically giddy, her smile lines tight and eyes squinting at the screen with such pride. Winnies hand fell to my mom’s wrist as she laughed at whatever picture of me popped up next. I wanted to be mad, I really did try but I just…couldn’t make it happen.

Winnie is in my mom’s kitchen in an oversized sweater and tights and at my mom’s height with her smile unashamed and carefree and non-threatening and she looks…so, so pretty. It hurts, honestly. It’s like a window into a life that never could be and yet I wanted it anyway.

I knew she was horrible. A cheater, a liar, and one of the most annoying people I’d ever met in my life and yet I was just leaning against that corner watching her and I can’t find it in myself to hate her. Not like this and not here. Not with that smile and not with her telling my mom how cute I was or that she ‘just knew I had to be a player in high school’ when I was so far from it that my own mother just giggled and shook her head. She had no idea that I was far from a player and much more of a kid trying so hard to blend in that he lost himself entirely.

With the memory popping in and out so quickly I barely had time to register it I cleared my throat and they both looked my way, still smiling.

“We gotta go, Mom,” I dug my keys out of my pocket as if to further prove my point. “Winnie has an early morning.”

“Oh, yes,” Mom wiped her the laughing tears from her eyes and turned to Winnie. “Well, remember you can always text me. Come by anytime. It was a real pleasure meeting you.”

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