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When we arrived at Reagan's, Wolfie, like most kids, was excited to see how another person lived. Strangely, I found that I was intrigued myself.
Reagan's place was a lot homier than I expected. With that severe bun, and the clean lines she usually wore, I was surprised to see the homemade afghan blanket draped over the back of her couch in bright rainbow colors. A gift from her grandmother, she had explained to Wolfie when asked.
I was also surprised to see just how many pictures she had on her walls. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, some abstract art maybe.
Her walls were covered in framed pictures of friends and family. Wolfie and I inspected them as she disappeared to take a quick shower and change into some clean clothes. I had to focus on those pictures. I had to distract my mind from the knowledge that just a few feet away. Reagan was in the other room completely naked.
I was surprised to find a framed picture of me, Brian, and her there. This one had been taken at a Yankees game. But I was confused as to why it was on her wall. She and Brian had been broken up for quite a while now, but what was more confusing was the fact that Brian looked bored in the picture, while she and I appeared to be passionately arguing about something. What was new?
I remembered that game. Brian had spent most of it scrolling through his phone while Reagan and I took turns yelling at the field over various bad calls.
She actually knew what she was talking about when it came to baseball, though I would've never admitted that to her at the time…or now, honestly, if for no other reason than to get her hackles up.
I did remember thinking at the time that games were more fun with Reagan than Brian. Brian tolerated the sporting events, and I appreciated him trying to support my interests. But it was hard to keep that guy focused on something as long as a sports event. He was too distracted with social media and "networking."
"Is that you, Uncle Adam? And Aunt Reagan?" Wolfie asked when he found the picture I'd been staring at.
"Yeah—yeah, that was at a baseball game we went to a while back.”
"Uncle Adam?"
"What, buddy?"
"Is Aunt Reagan your girlfriend?" Wolfie asked me sweetly.
I felt the air whoosh out of me for a moment before I sputtered out, "Well, no. What would make you ask something like that?"
"The way you two act around each other. That's how mommy and daddy acted," he added.
"What? Your parents liked to argue like that?" I asked before thinking.
He nodded solemnly. "They did, but it wasn't really fighting. They always made each other laugh, like you and Reagan do."
I swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in my throat. I didn't want to lie to the kid, but I also had the urge to tell him whatever I needed to do to make him happy. I really need to work on that, I thought to myself. "Well, I'm glad you recognize that we're not fighting, we're just teasing each other. But that doesn't necessarily mean that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. We're just friends."
Was that disappointment I saw in Wolfie's eyes? Or was I just manufacturing that in my head? Before I could analyze it too much, he looked back at the picture. "Who is this other guy?" he asked.
"That is my best friend, Brian. You haven't met him yet, but you will soon. He's a good guy. Obviously not into the game all that much, though," I pointed out smiling.
"No." Wolfie laughed. "But at least you have Reagan for that."
I nodded, thinking about all the things that I had Reagan for lately.
Brian was my best friend, we had been through a lot together, and though we didn't have all the same interests, I knew I could always count on him. He'd checked in several times during the last week to make sure Wolfie and I were OK, but he kept his distance, not wanting to overwhelm Wolfie. I respected that.
Reagan, on the other hand…well, Reagan was just a whole other entity. It was no exaggeration when somebody called her a force to be reckoned with, as it was the God's honest truth. But at the moment, she was on my side, because that was the side of Wolfie, and I was exceedingly grateful for it.
Wolfie and I continued to look at the pictures as Reagan emerged, hair slightly damp and down around her shoulders. It was nice not to see it pulled back in that severe bun. When we used to go out on double dates, she'd have it straight as an arrow down her back, but that night we spent together, her hair swept down her back in big waves, and I loved sticking my fingers through the softness.
Her hair was already starting to relax into those big waves again as it dried, and though I missed the running outfit, so much so it almost pained me, she filled out that New York Jets T-shirt and pair of worn-in jeans nicely.
"What are you two up to?" she asked, smiling towards her wall of pictures.
"Just checking out the fam," I said when my eyes snagged on what appeared to be a wedding party picture. I couldn't stop the smile that stole over my lips at seeing Reagan with her hair down, light makeup on her face, with what looked like a pink halter gown that pushed her perky breasts out before it fell in soft folds around the rest of her body.
The whole family was lined up in what was obviously a beach wedding. I looked at the bride and groom. The bride looked to be about Reagan's age, and the groom was quite a bit older. And yes, there was a striking similarity between his face and Reagan's.
I nodded towards the photograph. "What's the story here with silver fox and his child bride?" I asked teasingly.
