I Wouldn't Change a Thing

I’m a walking disaster. They told you to stay away. As my iPod played the music I wasn’t allowed to play back home, I watched as Brooke twitched awake.

“God. What is that noise?” she grumbled, pulling a pillow over her head.

“Don’t knock my music,” I teased, knowing her only real objection was the volume—which was increased ten-fold by her alcohol induced headache. “It’s ‘bout time you woke up anyways. It’s almost three o’clock.”

"The neighbors are having a Bar-B-Que this afternoon. Do you girls want to come?" Nan asked, poking her head in our shared room.

Brooke shrugged slightly under the sheets as I answered quietly, "I guess so."

"Good. I'd love for you to meet some of my friends, and your mother's too. And I know there will be some kids there about your age.”

“Okay.”

“Why’d you agree to go?” Brooke seethed, peeking out from under the pillow as soon as Nan had closed the door.

“Why not?”

“Now we have to hang out with a bunch of old people and pretend that we’re having fun.”

“She said there would be some kids our age,” I reasoned.

She simply rolled her eyes as she sung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

**

“Hello, Joyce. How are you?” Nan asked a woman close to her age. She had dark, almost black hair—not a gray in sight. She smiled warmly at my grandmother, instinctively reaching her arms for a friendly hug.

“Oh, nothing new here. Are these Annabelle’s girls?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes. This is Molly,” Nan answered as she pulled me forward. “And this is Brooke. Girls, this is my friend Joyce. Her son used to be good friends with your mom.”

“What a shame that they didn’t keep in touch much. They used to be so close,” Joyce reminisced. “Speaking of that son of mine, those boys are always late.”

“Who’s always late?” a booming male voice questioned.

Turning around, I watched as two men about my parents’ age walked through the back gate. A woman with long blonde hair followed close behind two boys at her side—Brooke’s crush and one that couldn’t have been more than twelve.

“You are,” Joyce answered with a smile as the taller of the two older males wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s Alex’s fault. He was my ride,” he defended.

“You weren’t even ready when we got to your apartment, Jack. So don’t blame me,” Alex responded, his hands held out in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joyce dismissed with a roll of her eyes. “Boys, say hello to Molly and Brooke. They’re Annabelle’s girls.”

Jack’s face lit up as he bounded over to us, hugging first Brooke, then me. “Finally!” he exclaimed.

Alex’s eyes went wide for a moment before a tentative smile made an appearance on his face. I locked eyes with him for a moment before he looked to my grandmother. “Is she here, too?” he asked quietly.

Before he had even finished his sentence, she was shaking her head. “No, the girls are staying with me for the summer. Her and Tony are still in Seattle.”

No one said anything for a beat longer than a standard pause. My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I felt the tension permeating the air. But before it could settle, Nan broke the silence. “Girls, this is Jack, Joyce’s son.” I nodded, as the assumption became fact. “And this is his best friend Alex, his wife Amy, and their two boys. You already know Johnny and this is Tucker.”

Johnny seemed uninterested in anything but not so discretely staring at Brooke while Tucker smiled warmly at me. I couldn’t help but smile in return as I gave a tiny wave. Looking around, I realized that the outdoor get-together was in full swing. My grandmother and Joyce were talking to a few other women their age. Alex’s wife Amy was setting plastic plates and silverware out on a picnic table while a tiny redhead followed behind her, her mouth going a mile a minute.

Tucker was sitting with a girl and two boys around his age and Johnny and Brooke had wandered off to talk amongst themselves. I noticed Alex and Jack standing by the grill, talking in hushed tones. Before I had a moment to figure out my place in the crowded backyard, I saw a brown haired, blue-eyed beauty walk through the gate, her sundress billowing around her as she walked.

“Aunt Jo!” I all but screamed as my legs took off. I hadn’t seen Aunt Jo—my mom’s best friend from high school—in almost two years. If my mom had had a sister, she would have been it. They were attached at the hip, even over a few thousand miles. They talked constantly on the phone, and Jo had made it a point to visit at least once a year, though she hadn’t been able to find a chance lately.

I wrapped Jo in a hug. She staggered against the force of our collision before her arms also found away around my back. “Wow, Molly. Look at you! You’re all grown up,” she cooed as she held me at arms length. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks at the comment as I shook my head. “Where is your sister?” she asked as she kept on arm over my shoulder and we walked further into the yard.

I led her to where Johnny and Brooke had settled by the pool so she could say her hellos. I couldn’t bring myself to break from her side at any point for the rest of the day. Jo was the only person there, other than my grandmother and Brooke, who I even remotely knew, let alone felt comfortable around.

If I had a cool Aunt, Jo would be it. She was down to Earth, simplistic, and funny. She understood me, and we connected in a way that me and my mom never could. Maybe it was our shared interests in books and music, or maybe just the fact that she encouraged everything my mother discouraged. Either way, Aunt Jo was my favorite.