Family Reunion

"Hey, you ready to go?" John asks me once he sees me come off the elevator.

"Yes. Where are we going first?" In response, he hands me a map marked up with permanent marker, notes written off to one side, with specific spots circled or starred.

"One of my friends gave me this when I first got here a few years ago. These were some of my favorite places."

"Where should we start?" He smiles, gesturing for me to follow him.

-

"Welcome to the warf," he says, holding his arms out, smiling at the sight before us, throngs of people all walking around the stands full of seafood on one side, a dock full of boats to the other.

"This is incredible! I didn't know Washington had this kind of stuff!" I look back at him, beaming as I drag him to one of the stalls selling shellfish.

We walk around for about a half an hour before deciding to go on to the next stop: the Washington Monument and reflecting pool. We circle around the monument and I snap a few photos to send to Joonas later once we get back.

After almost ten hours of being a tourist, I'm exhausted and John looks to be too, so we head back to my hotel to eat. We practically collapse into our seats at the table the hostess set us at, then after a few minutes, I pull out my phone and go into my pictures I took today.

John sees me doing so and switches from the seat across from me, sliding into the booth, beside me, leaning to see the pictures on my phone. I pull up one of us in front of the Lincoln Memorial which we went to right after the Washington Monument, and see him smiling down at me, not at the camera.

I glance at him next to me and see a blush on his face. Laughing, I pat his arm. Finally he looks at me, smiling halfway, "What?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "Nothing, nothing. Keep going," he says, gesturing to my phone. I stay looking at him, trying to read his expression and trying to ignore how close our faces are, so he reaches over and grabs my phone out of impatience and swipes to the next photo.

I see a couple guys in the background wearing what I recognize as hockey jerseys with the names "Alzner" and "Carlson" on the name plates. I feel John tense beside me. "Who are Alzner and Carlson? Are they in the NHL?"

He nods, still rigid beside me, "Yeah, they're defensemen for the Caps. You've never heard of them?"

I shake my head. "No, I always followed local hockey back home, I could never get into the NHL for some reason," I lie; I know the exact reason I can't watch the NHL: Tuukka.

John's just about to say something when someone at a table nearby squeals, "John. Carlson. Is at the same restaurant as me! Can I have your autograph, John?" A girl, probably fifteen or sixteen comes over, clutching a piece of paper and a pen.

I look at John who stares at me, mortified. And I know my face mimicks the exact same expression as his. He closes his eyes for a second, murmuring something I can't understand and plasters on a smile before turning towards the girl.

"Is she your girlfriend?" the girl sneers, looking around him and right at me. He glances back at me, an unsureness in his eyes I can't quite place but he turns around to face the girl again before I can ask.

I sigh, sliding out of the booth, looking back one more time at John facing away from me, his arm loosely around the girl as her mom takes a photo, then walk out of the restaurant to my room.

I really have no reason to be angry at John, after all, I haven't told him who I unfortunately have been labeled as. When I get up to my room, I go on my laptop and google John Carlson. He's obviously in the NHL so there's no way he wouldn't know who Tuukka is. I skim the basic information on his Wikipedia page: when he was drafted, his birthday, but there's not even a personal life section.

Before I can go back and go on his player profile on NHL.com, there's a knock at my door. I pause, already knowing it's John. I was hoping he was too tired from the practice he apparently had the day I flew into DC to remember where my room is but I know I hoped wrong when I see his figure outside my door through the peephole.

"Eela, please, open the door so I can explain," John pleads from the other side of the door. I sigh and open it, looking out tentatively. He huffs, like he was holding his breath, and smiles halfway.

"Listen, John, I'm not mad. I thought I was but I'm not." He looks at me, confused, "I...You know Tuukka Rask?" He nods, coming in when I motion for him to and taking a seat on the room's couch. I sit beside him and continue, "I'm his sister."

He sits still, zoned out as he processes what I said. "So...you're Eela Rask?" I nod, "And I'm John Carlson."

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p'. "I told you I'm not mad and I meant it, but why didn't you tell me when we met?"

"You didn't know who I was. It's nearly impossible to find someone in this city who doesn't know who I am, being so high on the depth chart, even at my age. I guess I just wanted to remember how it was to be treated like a normal person like I was before all this. What about you? I didn't even know Tuukka had a sister."

"Exactly. I've lived in his shadow since he made the Providence Bruins. He's never publically talked about me in America, and I can count on one hand how many times he's ever talked about me in Finland."

He sighs, leaning to one side to go digging in his pocket. After a second, he pulls out my phone, handing it to me. "I hope you don't mind, I sent some of the pictures to myself since you left your phone unlocked on the table." I shake my head, opening my messages and adding his phone number to my contacts. "So wait. Last night you said you were talking to your brother when we ran into each other."

"That was my twin brother, Joonas. He plays for Ilves in the Finnish Elite League," I say, pulling up a picture on my phone of us from our birthday earlier this year, and showing John.

He nods, giving me a smile and laughing quietly when he sees Joonas' hair all poofed up. I had woken him up really early to celebrate and he was still half asleep and in bed when I took the picture.

"Speaking of your brother..." John says, handing me my ringing phone with another picture of Joonas displayed on the screen.

"Joonas, it's...three in the morning over there, go to sleep for once and stop calling me," I say in Finnish. John gives me a funny look.

He laughs sarcastically at the other end of the line, "I could never leave my baby sister all alone in a new country."

"Joonas can I skype you in like two minutes?" John perks up, recognizing only one word. Joonas hums an agreement before hanging up. "You can leave if you aren't ready for an interrogation," I say, glancing at John as I log in to my laptop I left on the coffee table in front of us.

He glances at the door to the left of us, but instead, scoots back farther on the couch and stretches his arms across the top, waiting for Joonas to pick up. I lean back too, but hit his arm and sit back up, adjusting the position of the computer anxiously.

Finally, Joonas answers my video call, not even glancing at John next to me, and starting to go off about Tuukka. "Uh...Joonas?" He pauses, finally realizing we're not alone.

"Is this John?" he asks, looking him over like any other brother would, even if he is a few minutes younger. John nods, sitting up and clearing his throat.

"Don't be freaked out- he's younger than you," I whisper. He looks at me confused.

"You said he was your-"

"We- you and I- are two months apart. We- Joonas and I- were born in March."

"If you two are done whispering," Joonas says finally in English.

We talk for a few minutes all in English but Joonas tends to switch to Finnish out of habit, so we decide to end the conversation after I promise to call him soon.

By the time we're done talking and Joonas has hung up, John and I remember our exhaustion. I shut down my computer and go into my bedroom to plug it in to charge and once I come back, John is asleep on the couch.

Resisting the urge to giggle at the idea of a boy asleep in my hotel room, I go back into my bedroom and grab an extra blanket, draping it over his half-laying down figure. He stirs, but doesn't wake up and instead moves so he lays down fully on the couch.