“Why only rare occasions?” She asks the question still looking at the photo. “They must love it.”
I start gathering our plates from the coffee table. “Because sharing food with my family means spending more time with my family.”
She yawns and stretches, her arms reaching above her head. Her Royal Grounds T-shirt moves with her, revealing a patch of porcelain skin above her jeans. I cough and clear my throat as I move toward the kitchen.
“Let me help.” Maggie lowers the footrest of the recliner, but I shake my head.
“Haven’t you been doing shit like this all day? How about you shuffle the deck?”
This request somehow revives her, and she springs to life as she reaches for the pile of games that were moved to the floor so we could eat.
“What’s wrong with spending time with your family?” she calls across the room. “I was raised by my grandparents, but I’ve always had this romanticized notion of a big family, all these people to love.” She laughs. “People who have no choice but to love me back.”
Her words sound like she’s making a joke, but the wistfulness in her voice says otherwise. How do I tell her about my family without shattering her vision?
I pile everything in the sink, deciding to ignore the mess until morning. Back on the couch, I grab the bottle of beer I’ve been ignoring and allow myself a nice, long swig before answering.
“Your sisters seem great. Looks like you guys get along,” she adds.
“We do,” I say. “Things are different, though, when we’re all together in the same place. The big family thing—it does have its perks. More people to love, sure. But it also means more people to judge your every move. With me and my sisters, it’s like a game of deflection. Someone asks Natalie a question about my niece’s dad—deflect to Jen. My parents want to know when she’ll be done playing the role of student and ready to be an adult. She’ll pass the torch to Megan, who’s missed more than her share of family gatherings this year for a guy no one has met.”
I lean back, draining more of my bottle in a few hungry sips.
“And you?” Maggie asks. “What do you need to deflect?”
My head tips back and bangs lightly against the couch.
“You don’t want that laundry list,” I tell her.
She slides off the edge of the recliner, Uno deck in hand, and takes the seat on the couch next to me. Sitting cross-legged and facing my direction, she shuffles the deck, then spreads it like a fan.
“Pick a card,” she says, and I laugh.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the game is played.”
She hums her amusement, a grin playing on her lips. “Deflecting already, I see. Just pick a card.”
“What happens when I do?”
She huffs out a breath. “Whatever number you draw, that’s how many questions I get to ask you, and you have to answer sans deflection.”
“You’re sexy when you speak French.”
She rolls her eyes, and I laugh again.
“What happens if I get a WILD card?” I ask, reaching for the deck and thinking of ways to make Uno much more fun than anticipated.
She slaps my fingers. “It’s not that kind of game, mister.”
I hold up both my hands in mock surrender, waiting to hear the rest of the rules.
“If you draw a WILD card, you get to ask me one question.” She pauses. “Anything you want,” she continues. “And I have to answer honestly.”
“Let me get this straight. I have to answer any number of questions, one through nine, depending on what card I pick, and you have to answer one, and only if I draw a WILD?”
She shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”
With mock grudging I pick a card. “Yeah, actually. You do.”
Maggie bounces with excitement when she sees my card. A green four.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go easy on you the first time. One—what’s your middle name?”
I smirk and answer proudly, “Caldwell.”
She snorts with laughter, and I raise my eyebrows at the sound.
“Griffin Caldwell Reed? Does the name come with a Rolls Royce?” She drops the cards long enough to mime rolling down her window. “Pardon me, would you have any Gray Poupon?”
I nod my approval. “Old school. I like it. And it’s Griffin Caldwell Reed the second, if that helps.” She laughs even harder. “It’s my grandmother’s maiden name.”
“And if you have a son, he gets to ride around in the back of a Rolls, too?”
I lean against the arm of the couch and watch her laugh. She’s smiled for me before, but this vision of her is new, a Maggie filled with unrelenting happiness, if only for a few minutes. So I let her laugh, let myself watch, enjoying that I played a small role in making this beautiful girl snort.
“Is that your second question?” I ask. “What I’ll name my offspring should there ever be any?” The question is meant as a joke, but inwardly I flinch at the idea, at the thought of someone small and vulnerable relying on me to show them the way.
She shakes her head. “Okay. Um…favorite TV show.”
“Current or canceled?”
“Either.”