“So you don’t wanna hang out with me on my period! I’m hungry and growly like a bear, emotional like a toddler who missed nap time, and you’re not getting any!”
“I hate to break it to you, sunshine, but you’re always hungry, growly, and emotional. But, hey.” I take her damp face in my hands. “You’re my hungry, growly, emotional bear.” I kiss her lips. “Come on. I need help with something. And I promise to feed you.”
She disappears slowly and backward, eyes skeptical as she watches me, and I survey her mess. Beyond the tissues and cookie dough, a framed picture lays facedown on the coffee table. I turn it over, smiling at the blue-eyed brunette grinning from ear to ear from her dad’s shoulders, clutching a pink bunny—Princess Bubblegum. A silver locket hangs from her neck, barely visible in the photo, and my heart aches for my friend.
When Jennie reappears, she’s draped in my hoodie and sweatpants, and I’m content in knowing I’m never getting them back.
I follow her out the door and into the elevator, and she sighs.
“I really hope you have ice cream, Garrett.”
“First thing I put in my cart for you.” I lead her into my apartment. “I’ll make you a sundae, but first you have to help me—” I point at the tree, the boxes of decorations on the floor, “—with that.”
Jennie squeals, clasping her hands. “We’re decorating?” She dashes to the tree, fingers fluttering over the pine needles, eyes glittering with wonder. “We haven’t decorated since my dad died. It makes my mom too sad. I thought it made me sad, too, but now…now I think it’s just one more thing we’re missing.” She graces me with a grateful, breathtaking smile before hugging me tightly. “Thank you for including me.” Her eyes light up. “Do you have hot chocolate? We need hot chocolate if we’re gonna decorate. And Christmas music. Can I put the star up top? My dad always put me on his shoulders. It was my favorite part.” She squeezes me once more, then rips open a box of decorations.
“Do you want marshmallows in your hot chocolate?” I ask as she tears around my living room. At this rate, she’ll be done before I’ve even heated the milk.
“Yes, please! Just bring the whole bag!”
It’s an odd request, but I do as I’m told, all while Jennie hooks her phone up to my speakers and starts pumping old Christmas tunes.
She’s maybe the cutest thing ever as she sings to herself, hips swaying back and forth as she works. She asks for the story behind every handmade childhood ornament and takes a hot chocolate break every two minutes. It’s essentially her spooning the marshmallows from her mug into her mouth, then dumping another handful on top.
“Garrett,” she coos. “Oh my God. Is this your tiny hand?”
I wrap my arm around her waist and drop my chin to her shoulder, examining the glass ornament she holds delicately in her hands. There’s a small, white handprint on it, and each finger is decorated like a snowman. I spin it, showing her my sloppy handwriting, the backward letter G, and the 5 that tells us how old I was.
Her beam is so bright. “Do you have any paint?”
“Paint?” I follow her gaze to the box of six glass globes. “You wanna make handprint snowmen?”
She grins, head bobbing.
What did I say? Cutest thing ever? Feeling like a pretty accurate statement right now.
Forty-five minutes later, our hands are covered in grayish-blue latex paint that won’t come all the way off, there’s paint on the tip of Jennie’s nose and above my left eyebrow, and our miscolored snowmen handprints hang side by side on my tree. Jennie’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.
She’s snuggling in on the couch while I put the finishing touches on our ice cream sundaes when my phone starts vibrating across the room.
“Uh, you have a FaceTime request,” Jennie tells me, her tone uncharacteristically reserved. “Someone named Gabby.”
“Oh perfect.” I set the ice cream bowls on the coffee table and flop down next to Jennie. Taking my phone, I wait for my littlest sister’s face to appear. “Hey, Gabs.”
Out of my periphery, I catch the way Jennie’s shoulders drop, and she scoots a little closer.
“Garrett!”
“What’s up, kiddo?”
Gabby heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I miss you so much. Alexa is annoyin’ me. Maybe she’ll be nicer when you get home.”
“Shut. Up. Gabby!” Alexa yells from the abyss. She’s three years older than Gabby, and a fuckload sassier. She and Jennie would get along well.
“See what I mean?” Gabby rolls her eyes, and when she notices the bit of Jennie she can see, her face lights. “Who’s that?”
“This is my friend, Jennie.” I flash the phone her way, and Gabby gives Jennie a big wave. “We’re about to eat our ice cream sundaes.”
“Friend? Like, girlfriend?”
“No,” Jennie and I say at the same time, laughter echoing off the walls.
Gabby’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and she grins, showing off the gap between her front teeth. “Sure. That’s what they all say.” She twists. “Mom! Garrett has a girlfriend!”
“Is she coming for Christmas?” Mom shouts back, and Jennie buries her face beneath my arm.
“No, she can’t make it,” I tell them, smiling down at Jennie. “She’s about to die from embarrassment because the idea of us in a relationship sickens her.”
“Ha!” Mom snorts from afar. “I like her already!”
Gabby giggles. “Well, I guess if you’re eatin’ ice cream, I should let you eat it before it melts. I can’t wait to see you, Garrett.”
“Me too, Gabs. Love ya.”
“She’s your twin,” Jennie murmurs when I set my phone down. “She almost looks like she could be your daughter.”
I chuckle, handing Jennie her sundae before I dive into mine. “Yeah, me and Gabs look just like our mom. Alexa and Stephie look like our dad.”
“You must be so excited to see them. I always wished I had a sister.” She steals a chunk of banana from my sundae. “Will you see anyone else when you’re home?”
“My old high school crew gets together every time I’m back. There were only sixty of us in our graduating class, so most of us were pretty close. Almost everyone still lives there.”
It’s hard to tell what lingers behind Jennie’s smile. It looks part wistful, and maybe a little sad.
“What about you?” I shove her spoon aside, digging into her bowl after emptying mine. “Are you still close with your high school friends?”
Jennie pauses on sucking her spoon clean. “No.” The simple answer is soft but firm, final, and the way she starts putting space between us, no matter how little, tells me not to push it.
“Whadda ya wanna watch?”
“I don’t care.”
I highly doubt that. We’ve watched several movies and TV shows together, and I’ve only ever been allowed to choose when it’s a preapproved movie or show on her list.
I flip mindlessly through Netflix, focusing instead on Jennie from the corner of my eye. She’s pulling at the frayed hem of the blanket draped over her lap, tugging at the cuff of her sleeves, twining her hair around her fingers, all while looking anywhere but at me.
I don’t like the apprehension she’s wearing, the rosy flush of her cheeks because she’s trying to withhold her emotions, the way her gaze wobbles just slightly.
I pick up her phone. It’s still connected to my speakers, so I exit her Christmas playlist and click on the one titled J’s Favs while she watches me curiously.
“I can’t dance like you, but I can do a mean slow spin around the living room. You shoulda seen all the girls I got at the Spring Fling in eighth grade. Started so many fights between friends.” I hold out my hand, and when she hesitantly slips hers into mine, I pull her to her feet. “C’mon, Jennie. Dance with me.”
Her grin is a slow explosion, lighting her whole face as all that apprehension fades away. “You’ll dance for me?”