Page 20 of Threads That Bind Us

Gwen

I’m sweating again, and not because of the temperature, as I knock on the McCallum’s door. Charlie offered to take Ana and I to her appointment, but when I insisted on slow-rolling Ana into this, he nearly demanded I let Zane drive us. Which is why I’ve got a twenty-two-year-old shadow who, and I quote,has a history of evading police helicopters, hanging out against the sedan.

“Hi, hi, hi, Gwen, come on in,” Linda sings as she opens the door, throwing her arms around me and dragging me inside.

Gray and Ana’s footsteps on the floor above complement the musical tones of some kid’s show on the living room television. Gray’s little sister, Maddie, sits with a bowl of dry cereal in her lap, attention rapt on an animated family of dogs.

“Thanks for having Ana for the weekend,” I say as she lets me go and ruffles my hair with her fingers.

She’s in her early thirties, and despite having a teenager and a toddler, she always looks frustratingly put together. Even though it’s Sunday morning and my sister and her son have probably run her ragged for the past two days, her dark hair is pulled back in a slicked back ponytail, her makeup is done, andshe’s in a matching lounge set that probably costs more than my mattress.

Linda and her husband Paul have always been kind and compassionate to both me and Ana. Part of it is because Ana and Gray have been inseparable since kindergarten, and stayed friends even when his family moved into the suburbs. Another is that Linda and I bonded over being the only teen moms in Ana and Gray’s entire class—although obviously under different circumstances.

But most importantly, Ana didn’t balk when Gray transitioned. He walked up to her at school one day when they were twelve and told her that his name was Gray now, and Ana told him she was happy he didn’t choose Kevin.

Linda and Paul didn’t balk either, because they’re decent and loving humans, and I think they appreciated that Ana made Gray’s life easier when a lot of other kids made it harder.

I don’t know if Linda is my friend, but she’s definitely a mom-mentor, and that’s appreciated.

“Are you kidding me? Gray spends so many weekends with you, I should pay you child support.” She grabs Maddie’s bowl of cereal just as she’s about to dump it all over the couch. “Plus, if Ana didn’t come over, I don’t know what would motivate my child to clean his room, so please don’t thank me.”

Before I can respond, a scuffle of careful footsteps come down the stairs, and the kids enter the living room with their faces covered in blue paint.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Linda whispers, but it’s not quiet enough, because all three of the minors in the room screamswear jarat the same time. Linda fishes a dollar bill out of her wallet on the kitchen counter while I turn to Ana.

“If this is some sort of anime thing, I might lose my mind,” I say as I lick my thumb and drag it across her cheek. The paintcomes off easily, thank god. Ana rolls her eyes at me, which in any other situation I would scold her for.

“We’re testing out our Crespallion cosplay,” she replies like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet, rummaging in her bag until she pulls out a giant makeup palette with multicolored cream foundations. “It’s just makeup.”

“Okay, so itisan anime thing?” I grab the palette from her and flip it over, breathing a little sigh of relief when the ingredients look thoroughly washable.

“Crespallions are from Doctor Who, Gwen, not an anime,” Gray says, smiling at his mom. “The theater makeup did the trick, thanks mom.”

I glare over my shoulder at Linda, who looks appropriately shamed as she slinks behind the kitchen counter. I cannot have a conversation about Cresp-whatevers while I’m trying to figure out how to explain Baby Driver outside to my sister.

“Okay, well, I appreciate your dedication to your craft, but we have to get to your appointment, so please go wash your face.”

I spend the next ten minutes watching cartoons with Maddie and waving off apologies from Linda as she packs Gray’s lunch for theater practice. Honestly, they’re fifteen. They could be joyriding or in prison or avoiding my calls, and they’re preparing for Comic-Con, so I’m thankful for face paint.

When Ana comes downstairs, a ring of blue in her hairline, my stomach churns. I hate lying to her, but there’s no way around it. I have to lay the foundation for Charlie being in our lives now, and I have to build a backstory.

I take her backpack so it doesn’t bump against her incision and fiddle with the zipper as she thanks Linda for letting her stay. When we’re standing in the foyer, Gray and Lindadistracted with a discussion about nut allergies in his theater troupe, I grab onto Ana’s shoulders.

“Before we go outside, I have something to tell you.” She raises a blue-tinted eyebrow at me.

“Did you crash Jimmy’s car? because I’m not lying and saying it was me.”

I pinch her nose and she shakes me off.

“No, I don’t have Jimmy’s car.” I take a deep breath, readying myself to purposefully lie to the most important person in my world. “Actually, my friend sent a car to pick me up this morning. His driver, Zane, is outside.”

Ana stares at me, her mouth slightly open and her brows pressed together, like I’ve spoken a riddle she’s supposed to solve.

“A friend? Sent a car?” Her voice is incredulous and teasing, a hint of hurt lacing her words.

“He’s more than a friend, I guess. But yes, I’ve been seeing someone, and he offered to have his driver pick us up.” I take another deep breath through my nose and try to steady my heartbeat.

“How have you possibly been dating someone without me knowing?”