Page 36 of Hypothetical Heart
I rake my hands through my hair. “Holy shit,” I mutter. “Did it seem like he wanted to kill me?” They both take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of Winnie’s bed.
Genevieve shakes her head. “He knows it’s innocent. I think he’s just happy she had someone with her while he was on call.” I nod, looking down at the duvet.
“Weston’s here too, by the way. They’re both in the kitchen,” Eloise says, making my head snap back up.
“God damn it.” I’m going to have to leave this house eventually, and when I do, I’ll walk past Winnie’s dad and older brother, who both know I spent the night.
Winnie stirs next to me and rubs her eyes open. When she sits up slightly, she asks, “What are you guys doing here?” Her scratchy morning voice is the kind that makes you want to stay in bed just to keep hearing it.
Eloise holds up a paper bag from the diner. “We brought you breakfast.”
“The boys are coming too, but we thought we’d get here early so you’d have time to get up,” Genevieve adds.
There are tears forming in all of their eyes. The love between the three of them is palpable, and it reminds me of when we were little kids. If one girl started crying–over literally anything–it was likely that the other two would too.
They’ve been a complete unit for as long as I’ve known them, and I couldn’t be happier to be a part of it.
“Thanks, guys,” Winnie sighs, wiping tears out of her eyes.
“We love you, Winnie,” Genevieve says, climbing on the bed and outstretching to give her a hug.
I just know this means everything to her.
Within a few hours, Luke and Jameson have come over, and all of us are sprawled out in Winnie’s bed.
We tried a few times to put on different movies, but I have no idea why because we never end up watching more than the first ten minutes, anyway.
It’s been nice for all of us to take our minds off of Susan’s death and focus more on her as a person–the person we remember so vividly. She may have been Winnie’s mom, but she was important to all of us growing up.
We share our favorite memories of her, laughing about the times she would swim in the pool with us and take us to get ice cream, crying about all the times she would dress our wounds when we would get hurt, despite her husband being a doctor.
I notice how Winnie’s hand subtly shifts closer to mine. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but when our fingers brush, an electric spark zips through me. I glance at her, and she meets my gaze, her lips quirking into a small, almost shy smile. I can’t help but smile back, squeezing her hand just enough to let her know I’m here.
“I think the main thing I remember about Susan was just how fun she was,” Eloise says. “She was the one who’d jump up and offer to take us to the park, and she’d always be the first of the parents to join us in whatever game we were playing.”
Winnie’s mom was the type who wanted us to feel special, and all of us felt so cool when Susan would’ve rather hung out with us than all the adults.
“She sounds amazing,” Jameson adds. He hasn’t said much because he’s the only one who never met Susan. He’s more so been the one rubbing backs and handing out tissues.
“She was,” the rest of us say at the same time.
We all stay there together for the majority of the day, and at one point, all of our parents come over and call us downstairs.
It’s honestly weird seeing them all together. When we were younger, there weren’t very many days where weweren’tsurrounded by all the parents, but now, it’s rare to find a day when all of them are even in the same country.
All the moms are crying, holding the flowers they are planning to take to her grave, which makes all of us kids start crying.
Winnie’s dad is surrounded by all the other dads around the grill on the back deck.
“A barbecue? Seriously?” Luke asks and Eloise punches him in the arm.
“Winnie, hi,” my mom sighs, coming up and hugging her. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” Winnie replies. “I’m hoping it will get easier as the years pass.”
“Me too, dear, me too.” It might not be the same magnitude, but the type of pain Winnie and my mom feel is the same, and I’m grateful they have each other in moments like these.
Winnie heads back toward our group of friends, leaving me alone with my mom. She slings her arm over my shoulder. “How are you doing?”
