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She looked at me with wide eyes and said tacitly, "That's my dad…and my best friend, Amy."
My eyes widened. "Wow, you have to fill me in on that story," I said, momentarily forgetting there was a child in the room until Wolfie piped up.
"Yeah, what happened, Aunt Reagan?"
She looked between the two of us, smiling at Wolfie and giving me a go-to-hell look. I smiled sheepishly at her.
"It was no big deal, really. Amy was my best friend in college, we were roommates. I took her to my dad's beach house one summer for vacation, and she and my dad…hit it off, to put it mildly," she said, looking down sheepishly.
"Wow, that had to be a little awkward," I said, imagining how it must've been to discover your best friend and your dad shacking up.
"Only for a little bit. But they really love each other, and I really love the both of them. So, everybody's happy. Besides, if those two hadn't gotten together, then I would not have my little sister," she said, pointing to another picture on the wall of a chubby-cheeked girl, with bright eyes and a big smile. "This is Layla, she's a couple of years younger than you Wolfie. But I bet you two would get along great."
Wolfie looked at the picture critically and looked doubtful. "I don't know. She's a girl, and she's a baby," he said scornfully.
Reagan rolled her eyes playfully at him. "I'll have you know that baby girl could whip your butt, mister."
"Nu-uh," Wolfie insisted.
"Yuh-huh," Reagan replied, sticking her tongue out at him and causing Wolfie to giggle.
"All right, children," I said, putting my hand on Wolfie's shoulder and guiding him towards the door. "Let's go get this shopping extravaganza started." I led the two of them back to the car. I made sure that Wolfie was buckled in securely in the back, and then, I made sure I opened the door for Reagan.
She looked at me suspiciously. "You don't have to do that."
"I know you don't think much of me, Reagan, but I'm still a gentleman," I insisted.
I expected her to give me some snappy comeback, but instead, she just examined my face for a beat, then slid into the passenger seat. I shut the door and tried to tamp down the yearning I felt low in my belly for the woman sitting in the passenger seat of my car.
Those feelings of familial unity that had tugged at me hard throughout the day during our time together would nag at me later as worried about enjoying them a little too much. I tried to bolster myself with reminders of the fact that I was a prime target for this kind of vulnerability.
My family had been cold and distant. Their biggest act of love was passing down their name and paying for me to get out of things. That was one of the reasons they'd been so dismayed when I decided to try to help people.
At first, they thought I was just partying on these long trips I would take. When they found out I was using that money to go to third world countries to help, they bragged about it to their friends, but privately, they questioned me on my motives. "There are other people for that, Adam. Don't feel like you need to be one of them," they would say—whatever that meant. What I suspected was proven right: their worry had little to do with any concern about my welfare and everything to do with how it put them out. Every time I came home after a new adventure, I had a broader insight of the world—an inconvenience that made it harder for them to keep me in "my place."
I had already spent most of my life not feeling like I belonged with my family. I was the proverbial black sheep. But once I decided to forge my own path, it had been made official.
I heard from the occasional family member, but mostly only knew about what they were up to because of social media. Veronica had been the only family member who I had truly talked to. My parents called on my birthday and Christmas, but otherwise, there was no contact. They hadn't even called me after Ronnie passed, and they knew we had been close. I wasn't sure how much they knew about the aftermath or about the fact that Wolfgang was now in my care. But I hadn't heard one word from them, or Ronnie's parents… Wolfie's grandparents. And the knowledge of that weighed heavily on me and also doubled down my conviction that none of them were worth messing with.
It was little wonder that I was so susceptible to the coziness of true family life. I reasoned that this was the main reason I was having all of these warm and fuzzy feelings about Reagan. That, and the fact that I was fighting a hard-on every time she was near.
As much as I was struggling with her nearness, I didn't regret it for one second. Especially after seeing how jazzed up Wolfgang got about school after going down the school supply aisle with Reagan, who was like a kid in a candy store, picking up notebooks, colored pencils, and other little doodads that, quite frankly, he probably didn't need. As we worked our way through the store, Wolfie started casually opening up about some of his worries to Reagan. "Aunt Reagan? Have you ever been a new kid in school?"
"Well, sure, and it was scary. I was worried that nobody would like me, and I would be by myself. But you know what? My grandmother pulled me aside and told me that I needed to remember who I was: Reagan Miles. I was somebody," she said. " As somebody, I had every right to be in that school and to carve out a place for myself. So, you know what I did? I walked in that school with my head held high, and my shoulders back, and I acted like I belonged there. The other kids agreed."
Wolfie didn't look too convinced, but Reagan continued, "Just like you, Wolfie. You are most definitely somebody," she said, emphasizing the last word. "You have every right to be there, and you belong there. Do you know why? Not only because you're Wolfgang Townsend, for God's sake," she said, hyping him up, "but because you have people who love you. So, if you ever have a moment tomorrow where you're not sure, just remember that there are all these people who are crazy about you, and that's only after knowing you for a few days. That's pretty powerful stuff, my man."
His response proceeded to split my heart in two. "There are people here who love me?"
She glanced at me, and I could see his answer had had the same effect on her. She bit her lip and swallowed hard, then brightened for him, pasting a smile on her face. "Of course. I know Uncle Adam loves you. I love you. I know Miss Nancy's crazy about you, and you have Cheri charmed," she assured him.
He nodded with confidence. "I like them, too."
"A whole bunch of other people will like you and love you, you just have to give them a chance," she told him.
"That's right," I piled on and added, "and if they don't, I'll kick their asses."
"Adam," Reagan hissed.
