“Otto! Your dad is live!”
Naomi shouts the announcement. Otto and I are already in my bed when she bounces out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth, and plops her body between us.
“I sure hope he’s alive, or this is going to be a shitty New Year,” Otto replies.
“No, he’s LU-iiiive.”
Naomi holds up her phone so we can see the screen. It shows Jason’s social profile with a bouncing circle around his picture, noting that he’s filming a live video for his followers.
“Are you following him?” Otto asks.
Naomi blushes. “Hush and watch.”
She clicks the video, and it starts to play.
Jason finishes adjusting his camera. He’s wearing slacks and a partially buttoned shirt. His hair is slightly teased, like he’s had one (or more) hands running through it. I don’t know if Otto’s dad is fully aware of what a “thirst trap” he is, but it certainly doesn’t hurt his brand.
I know their house as well as I know my own, and he’s definitely not at home—he’s sitting at a table with a large window in the background. Through the window, there’s a beautiful view of the ocean and sky.
Where the hell is he that’s that high up?
He starts speaking, and my questions dissolve on my tongue.
“Hey, King Squad,” he says. His smile is lopsided, his voice low. “Apologies for whispering. My others are, uh…sleeping. I hope you’re all settled in with your chosen family of the day. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I did want to follow up with something.
“I’ve talked a lot this year about letting go. Moving on. But we can’t move on from the things we don’t acknowledge. Earlier this year, we lost a member of our chosen family. Maria. She was a good friend, a great mom, and her son and our son grew up together.
“I’m going to leave you with a memory that our son is going to kill me for.”
(“Please don’t be the Chatham story,” Otto mumbles.)
“So we’re taking a weekend trip to Chatham—”
(“Fuck,” Otto groans.)
“—Kenzi, Donovan, and I sailed out on Dock Buoy, and we brought Maria and her son, Diego, along with us. Otto and Diego were fifteen or sixteen, maybe, and Joan was just a puppy. The boys were getting cabin fever, so we let them take the dinghy to shore to play on the beach. Thought nothing of it, right? Well, never underestimate the power of teenage boys. They got the idea to take this little motorized boat for a joyride and got themselves beached on a sandbar.
“Luckily, we had a kayak with us, so Maria and I take the kayak and paddle out to the boys. They’re hangdog, you know, we’ll never do it again, blah, blah. So Maria and I get in the dinghy, and we find out that not only have they beached it, but they’ve punctured the hull and now there’s about an inch of water in the thing.
“We get the boys in the kayak and try to figure out what to do with the dinghy. So I’m hunting around for something to plug it up with, and Maria looks at me and she goes, Hold on to something.
“Then she guns the motor. The funny thing about these little boats—if you make them go fast enough, the boat hydroplanes, so all the water it’d collected drained out the back. So Maria practically breaks the sound barrier and zips this thing across the bay and beaches it on a private beach.
“There are two times I’ve feared for my life. That was one of them. Luckily, everyone made it out in one piece. We had to swim back to the boat, but in good news, we didn’t have to drag the bay for a sunken dinghy.
“That’s it. That’s my favorite Maria story. She was a brave, strong, and take-no-shit woman. I haven’t mentioned Maria because…it’s hard for me to talk about her. It’s hard for me to be sad. It’s hard for me to let the people around me suffer in grief. I want so badly to fix things and make them right. But people are complicated. Grief isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s just…an expression of love.
“So—I know my big line is cut out negativity. But this year…maybe don’t be afraid to lean into the part of you that feels uncomfortable. The bruises are still there, and ignoring them isn’t going to heal them quicker. If I have one sweeping holiday wish for myself…it’s to spend this season surrounded by love. Love each other. Love yourself. Love when it feels good. Love when it hurts. Just love.
“Okay. That’s all. Love you all. Happy holidays.”
With that, Jason gives the camera a smile and then reaches forward and presses his finger to the screen, and the video cuts.
There’s a knot in my throat the size of the Titanic.
I can feel their eyes on me.
“Hey…” Naomi says tenderly. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
But I can barely get the noise out. The backs of my eyes are burning.
I hide my face in my hands. A half sob escapes, and immediately, Naomi and Otto descend. Otto’s arms wrap around my middle, and Naomi strokes a hand through my hair, pulling me against her chest.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs.
“I know…” My voice breaks, pent-up emotions struggling to come out. “It’s…uh. These are happy tears. Not sad.” I sniff and try to straighten out. I push the heels of my hands against my eyes, keeping my tears at bay. “It meant a lot to hear that.”
“Your mom sounded like a badass,” Naomi murmurs.
“Yeah.” I grin. “She was.”
For a moment, the three of us lapse into silence. It feels good just to be held by them.
I feel safe here. Supported.
It’s okay to let myself be weak in this moment when I have the both of them here to prop me up.
Finally, Otto says, “I know exactly what will make us feel better.”
