In the morning, my cousin is bright-eyed, her usual cheery, happy, laughing self, and I really want you to meet her and her siblings. You’d like them, and they’d like you, and, if you didn’t have to work this weekend, you may have met them all — my parents, my aunt and uncle, my cousin, the first of my family you’d ever have met. I wonder how I would have introduced you, and you ask me as much oh-so-casually when we’re chatting later at night. My parents are on a flight back to LA, my cousin on a train back to Boston, my aunt and uncle on their way back to Baltimore, all trying to beat the snowstorm that seems to be hitting everywhere but New York where a certain someone (me) is waiting so much for snow.
I know you’re trying to be casual about this as you ask, Would you have told them? — and I’m trying to interpret your tone, if there’s hope there or disappointment or something accusatory when you add, Wait, but, if you did, and they didn’t like me, would they hold my puppy hostage? Because I want my puppy back.
Wait a minute, your puppy? YOUR puppy?! Excuse you, he’s my puppy.
He likes me more.
Oh my god. No.
Denial’s cute on you. Keep talking.