• • •
My stomach drops when I see everyone already on the porch at the cabin, waving us down the driveway. I’m sure I saw this same view only six days ago, on December 20. I remember being the last to arrive. Flight schedules had been tricky, so Kyle, Aaron, and their twins came in on Friday night. Theo and Andrew, I remember, drove up earlier than usual, too.
Our tires come to a crunching stop beside Theo’s giant orange truck, and we clamber out of the same Toyota RAV4 that was most certainly totaled in the Car Crash That Didn’t Happen. We are immediately engulfed by hugs from all sides. Kyle and Aaron make a sandwich out of me. Their twins, Kennedy and Zachary, gently wind themselves around my legs. Lisa finds a window of space and wiggles in close. In the distance, Benny waits patiently for his hug, and I send him a nonverbal cry for help.
My brain can’t seem to process what’s going on. Have I lost a year somehow? Honestly, what are the odds that I’m actually dead? My version of heaven would be at the cabin, so how would I know? If I was in a coma, would I feel the frigid winter air on my bare face?
I peek past Lisa into the trees, searching for a hidden camera crew. Surprise! they’ll shout in unison. Everyone will laugh at the elaborate prank. We totally had you fooled, didn’t we, Mae?
All this mental fracas means that I’ve barely considered what it will be like to see Theo before I’m lifted off my feet in a bear hug. I experience this like I’m watching from a few paces away.
“Smile!” Bright light momentarily blinds me as Lisa snaps a picture. “Oh shoot,” she mutters, frowning down at the image on the tiny screen. I’m sure only half of my face ended up in the photo, but she seems to think it’s good enough because she tucks her phone back in her pocket.
When Theo puts me down, his grin slowly straightens. Did the mudroom make-out even happen? And what is my expression doing right now? I want to reach up and feel my face just to know.
“What’s up, weirdo?” he says, laughing. “You look like you forgot my name.”
Finally, a small smile breaks free. “Ha. Hi, Theo.”
“She’s probably in shock about your hair.” My attention is pulled over Theo’s shoulder to where Andrew stands, waiting patiently for his own hug. Oh yes. This is definitely my version of heaven.
But then Andrew’s words sink in, and I realize everyone else is seeing Theo’s haircut for the first time. I saw it nearly a week ago.
“Yeah, wow,” I stammer, “look at you. When did you cut it?”
Absently, I pull Andrew into my arms, squeezing. My head is spinning so hard that at first I don’t register the bliss of having his body pressed against mine. Andrew is all long limbs and hard, sinewy muscle. His torso is a flat, firm plane, but it molds to me as he squeezes closer, giving me a hit of eucalyptus and laundry soap.
“Hey.” He laughs quietly into my hair. “You okay?”
I shake my head, holding on longer than is strictly necessary for a greeting, but he doesn’t seem to fight it, and I can’t locate the correct brain-to-muscle command to loosen my grip.
I need this warm, physical anchor.
Slowly, my chest relaxes, my pulse steadies, and I release him, narrowing my eyes in surprise when he steps back and I see splotches of pink on his cheeks.
“Last week.” Theo runs a palm over the top of his head, grinning his wide, big-toothed smile.
“Last week what?” I drag my gaze away from Andrew’s blush.
“My hair,” Theo says, laughing at me. “I cut it last week. You like?”
And there’s zero trace of weirdness in his voice. Zero awareness in his expression that we, you know, had our tongues down each other’s throats. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great.” I am doing a terrible job being convincing here. “Totally great.”
Theo frowns. He runs on praise.
I glance up at Benny, who is drawing something with Zachary in the snow with a branch. My voice wobbles: “Hey, Benny Boo.”
He grins, jogging over to me and sweeping me up in his arms. “There’s my Noodle.”
Yes. Benny. This is who I need. I grip him like he’s a deeply rooted vine and I am dangling over a cliff, whispering urgently into his ear, “I need to talk to you.”
“Now?” His hair brushes my cheek, and it’s soft and smells like the herby hippie shampoo he’s used my entire life.
“Yeah, now.”
Benny puts me down and disorientation spins at the edges of my vision, making me dizzy. I don’t realize I’m leaning to the side until he catches me. “Hey, hey. You all right?”
Mom rushes over, pressing a palm to my forehead. “You’re not hot.” She gently touches beneath my jaw, searching for swollen glands. “Have you had any water today?”