11. Reese
“What the fuck is happening in my house right now?” Elijah pushes open the door, and the music we could hear from outside blares louder.
The house isn’t filled with people, and I don’t think they would be playing The Supremes if they were having a party. I’ve come to love oldies, thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis always blasting it when they cook, but I’m not sure “You Can’t Hurry Love” is a party song, though maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know what old people parties are like. I’m assuming they don’t happen at four p.m. on a Tuesday, though.
“Tigger! Eeyore,” Winnie shouts as soon as we step into their living room. I groan internally hearing that stupid nickname. Winnie hates when we call her Pooh or Pooh Bear like her parents do, so in order to get back at us, she gave us those nicknames. Eli doesn’t seem to mind his, but I hate mine, so it worked. I don’t call her Pooh, and she doesn’t call me Eeyore—usually.
She throws herself at us in a double hug.
Mr. Lewis grins as he turns down the music. “She’s still a bit loopy from the anesthetics.”
Oh, that’s right. I forgot she was getting her wisdom teeth out today.
“How you feeling, Win? Less wise?” Eli jokes and squeezes her.
She lets go of us and scowls, but it’s a lost cause with how swollen her cheeks are. The white headband around her face isn’t easy to take seriously.
Mrs. Lewis walks back in and kisses my and Elijah’s cheek one at a time. Then she slaps the back of his head. “Be nice to your sister.”
After wrapping his arms around Winnie, Mr. Lewis belts out “My Girl” at the top of his lungs, replacing “my girl” with her name.
Elijah joins his family in singing and dancing around, and I take my seat on the couch. I’m not going to sing and dance, but I can’t lie and say I don’t love being here to witness it. The Lewises are everything I want in a family. They remind me that true love exists, and with the right person by your side, all the happiness in the world is possible.
Winnie drops next to me and leans her head on my shoulder when the song is done.
“How you feeling, Win?”
“Tired. Hungry.” She tilts her head up to look at me, her eyes glassed over and distant. “I love you, Reese.”
That’s the other difference between our families. I’ve only heard my mom utter those words once when she thought I was sleeping, and I’ve never heard my dad say them. It’s not a common phrase in my house, but the Lewises say it all the time. It feels like any time someone leaves the room, they say it. It may be excessive to some, but I think it’s nice to know how someone feels about you.
“Me too, Win.” But it doesn’t make it any easier to say, even when you feel it.
We settle into the couch and watch her parents put on a performance to “I Got You Babe,” and eventually, she drifts to sleep, her head still on my shoulder.
Elijah drops onto the side chair and slides me a plate with a sandwich and some chips. Without moving Winnie too much, I grab it and bring the sandwich to my lips.
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Lewis cries with a smile. “Stay.”
Like I have a choice.
A second later, she returns with their old Polaroid camera.
“Smile like you like being here, son.” Mr. Lewis chuckles.
They let me swallow, and I listen, leaning my head on top of Winnie’s and smiling.
Mrs. Lewis shakes the photo out and shows Mr. Lewis before handing it to me. “You can keep that one. I think Winnie would be upset if I hung it up.”
It’s not the greatest photo she’s ever taken, but I think it’s cute.
“I’ll put it in my wallet. She’ll never see it.”