January first. Start of a New Year.
The start of new habits. The creation of new futures. The great, big, unknown new year, new me.
But it’s also a good time to pay respect to the old traditions that have kept you afloat all of these years.
Even if I’m the only one enjoying myself. Naomi sits on the picnic bench beside me, shivering. “Tell me again why we’re sitting outside an ice cream shop…in the middle of winter?”
I shrug. “It’s tradition.”
“You couldn’t pick a warmer tradition?”
“Blame is on Dad J,” Joan says. “He’s the ice cream fanatic.”
“Jason and Otto’s first hangout happened at this ice cream shop,” Diego says, filling in the blanks. “They’ve been doing a family picture every winter since.”
“Awww,” Naomi coos and bats her eyes at me. “More baby stories, please.”
I make a face at her. “No.”
The four of us sit on a picnic bench outside Hannsett Island’s local ice cream shop, Ahoy! The shop hasn’t changed in decades—it still has the same cheap, wooden benches, the same cartoon whale drawing on its large sign. There’s a thin coating of snow on most of the tables, but we brushed it off this one to wait. The seats are cold, but the morning sun is warm on our backs. Naomi sits next to me, Diego and Joan across from us.
Joan is stuffed in a beaten leather jacket, and she picks at the sleeves. She leaves to head back to London next week. I want to soak up all the time I have with my little sister before she’s gone.
Even if she won’t be far. Part of her rests inside of me, still healing, still slowly making itself at home with the rest of me.
“Do you want my jacket?” Diego offers Naomi.
She shakes her head. “I just want to complain.”
I unbutton my coat and open a side, holding it out like a wing. She crawls inside my coat, half sitting on my lap.
Just then, my parents’ car pulls into the parking lot. I give Naomi’s side a squeeze. “Incoming.”
My parents exit the car. Everyone is wearing the same clothes they wore last night.
Okay, I see you.
Jason is wearing dark shades, but he takes them off and hooks them on his sweater when he approaches us. He extends his arms out wide, a big grin on his lips.
“The whole gang is here!”
“Duh,” Joan says.
I shrug. “It’s tradition.”
Jason beams. You have never seen a happier man. It makes my heart warm to see him this way.
Mom and Donovan catch up to the rest of us. They have their hands linked together.
“Alright,” Jason says. “What’s everyone want? Kenz? Mint?”
We’re a horde when we go to the ice cream counter. It takes ten minutes just to get through everyone’s ice cream orders. I get a cup of coffee-flavored, and Naomi and Diego both steal large scoops of ice cream.
I’ve finally found the downside to polyamory. Too much food sharing.
We all settle back down on the picnic table outside. Mom gets Joan to talk a little bit about her adventures in London. Donovan and Diego discuss the hospital. Naomi straight-up steels the rest of my ice cream, and we trade cups.
Joan, who is at that age where she can only stand her parents for a couple of minutes at a time, starts to get ornery halfway through her cone.
She groans loudly at one of Jason’s bad jokes, and Jason squints at her. “What’s up? Your ice cream too hot? Need me to blow on it?”
He blows on her ice cream. Even moody Joan bursts into chuckles at that.
My heart tightens in my chest.
Fuck. I love these people.
I need to immortalize this moment.
“Alright,” I announce and take my phone out of my coat pocket. “Picture time.”
Diego holds out his hand. “I can take it.”
“Don’t be an idiot. It’s a family photo. You’re family.”
Diego opens his mouth to protest but then catches himself. A little grin appears on his mouth instead. “Okay,” he says.
Good boy.
I tap a young woman on her shoulder. “Hey—can you take a picture of us?”
She holds up the phone, aiming the camera toward us.
She snaps a flurry of photos. When I go through them later, I discover they’re all ridiculous.
In one, Naomi is cross-eyed, and Jason is licking Donovan’s face.
In another, Joan has me in a chokehold.
In another, Mom is doubled over, laughing so hard that she drops her ice cream on the ground.
The last is quasi-decent. My arm around Diego’s chest. Naomi’s head on my shoulder. Jason, Kenzi, and Donovan holding Joan in their arms like a princess.
All of us, smiling. Happy. In love.
I print this photo out and tuck it into the first page of my new notebook. I want to be reminded every time I open it: I’m grateful every day I get to love and be loved by these bizarre humans.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
THE END
