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“Do you remember our first place?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I do. A tiny two-room shack.”
“With the outdoor shower.” We’d refused help from our families, wanting to secure our first place together on our own. It was stupid, but we were young.
“It was so cold in the winter I thought I was gonna lose a pinky toe.”
I rubbed my messy coils. “You made that place feel like home.”
“Yeah, because we were young, dumb, and just happy to be cosplaying as adults.”
“You’d just turned eighteen a few months prior, and couldn’t nobody tell you nothing.”
Sometimes I thought she forgot she hated me. “Because I was officially grown. I had my high school diploma, a job at the Gas Guzzle, and I was living with my boyfriend. The heat barely worked, but gotdammit, we could make our own rules.”
“And that hasn’t changed. We can still make our own rules. So, if you want Sunday dinner at Birch Farm, let’s have Sunday dinner at the farm.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What, like, today?”
“Yeah, I could drive the blacktop over, and we could grill some steaks.”
Dial twisted her face into a frown. “Ozzie, you can’t be serious. Everybody probably has plans for the night.”
“I don’t. Neither does Maple. Edison and Fancy can take a break from hunching to eat. You can invite Reese, and I’ll tell Cy that if he doesn’t attend, I’ll break his arms.” I pulled out my phone, shooting off a text to the renovation group chat.
She picked at her nail polish, which was already worse for wear. “Erm, I don’t know. Maybe another night.”
“Is tonight a bad time to make a lasting memory?”
“It’s just a lot of work. We don’t have any pots, bowls, plates.”
“I can cover that. All you have to do is bring your potato salad.”
She repositioned herself onto her knees. “Are you being for real?”
My phone dinged. “My sister and Edison just texted, and they’re in. Fancy’s gonna bake a cake.”
Her big brown eyes were filled with skepticism. “Okay, Ozzie.”
“Oh, you know I love it when you tell me that.”
7
Dial
The Birch farmhouse was abuzz with activity. Ozzie had suggested we host Sunday dinner and immediately started putting plans in motion to make it a reality. Around five o’clock, he and Maple showed up at the Birch house hauling his blacktop grill with tons of groceries and supplies. He’d also brought folding tables and chairs. He was known as Mr. Entertainment because he could throw one hell of a party. By eight we were all situated around the makeshift dining table enjoying the feast.
“This was such a great idea,” Reese said.
“You have Dial to thank for this,” Ozzie said, trying to point the spotlight in my direction.
“Nope, this was all Oz. I just made the potato salad.”
“And I’m very thankful for that.” Edison winked, going in for seconds.
I’d missed this… family. Sure, I saw Edison every day at work, and Reese and I hung out on occasion, but this was different, intentional. We’d all gathered together to share a meal. I guess you could say I was nostalgic for the old days. Edison had warned us that everything would change with our parents’ move, and initially I didn’t believe him, but he was right. Parents were the tradition keepers, and without them we all retreated to our respective corners.
There was power in a simple reminder that you weren’t alone. Sitting at this wobbly folding table with a plastic tablecloth, I felt full, not just from the meal but from the knowledge that we’d always come together when we needed to. We could put our differences aside and find solace in our commonalities.
