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Tim’s holding the gas pump, leaned against the side of the car. Through the gas station window, he can see Tamara and Lucy briskly walking around the store, arms filled with too many snacks to count. He sighs and checks his pocket once again, paranoid. Tamara already threatened to steal his wallet twice, and he wouldn’t put it past her to do it again, then return it before he notices. And when his credit card statement says he’s out forty dollars, Tamara will flash the puppy eyes and complain to Lucy, and Tim will still be out money with the addition of Lucy being mad at him.
He watches the duo exit the building, arms filled with snacks. Lucy’s tote bag is twice its normal size, and Tamara is holding a grocery bag with her teeth. Tim sighs, disappointed. “How many snacks did you guys buy?”
“Two,” Lucy lies, blinking at Tim as if expecting a challenge. From behind her, Tamara’s glare is venomous.
As if. Tim knows better than to argue with his girlfriend. “Cool,” He deadpans, blinking twice in what he hopes looks like deference.
Tamara rolls her eyes, and speaks through the bag in her mouth. “‘P’n d’r!” When Tim doesn’t do as she says, her eyebrows furrow. She kicks the car door with her boot twice, practically bouncing in place to signal urgency.
“Timmy,” Lucy says, blinking innocently. “Open the door before Tammy kills you and I’m forced to cover up your murder, please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Tim huffs with a laugh, opening the passenger’s side door. Lucy drops her snacks on the seat, and her tote bag on the floor. Behind her, Tamara is quietly seething. He smiles at her with all his teeth.
Lucy giggles as she turns back to Tim. “Please,” She says, batting her eyelashes. Behind her Tamara, also blinks rapidly, a mockery of Lucy’s very cute eyelash batting.
Tim opens the back door, and watches Tamara scramble. She drops a single muffin in her haste, and proceeds to drop everything else into the backseat, along with the bag in her teeth.
“You could’ve used another bag,” Tim points out.
Tamara whirls around, “And you could’ve helped!” She snaps.
“I told you you to get snacks at home,” Tim points out with a shrug. “Can’t help being right.”
“Can’t help losing money either, hm?” Tamara raises an eyebrow.
Tim groans. “Use Lucy’s card one time, I’m begging you.”
“Then beg,” Tamara deadpans, glaring.
“Okay,” Lucy interrupts. “Tim, I will pay you back. Tammy, eat your muffin.”
“But it’s ruined!” She points to the warm mush on the floor with a pout. “Luce, it’s Tim’s fault for not opening the door for me like a gentleman!”
Lucy turns to him. “Tim, anything you wanna say to Tammy?”
“Plan how to carry your snacks better?” Lucy wraps an arm around Tamara’s shoulders, a way to hold her back whilst simultaneously pointing out to Tim that she’s on her sister’s side. He sighs, drops his shoulders and everything. “Get a new muffin. On me.”
Tamara smirks. Evil. She’s pure evil. “Thanks, Dim.”
She bounces back into the store, and Tim’s absolutely sure that she’ll buy extra things just to mess with him. He sets the gas pump back into the nuzzle. “Did you guys get Pringles?”
“Baby, I got so many Pringles,” Lucy says with a grin as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “I got sour cream and onion,” She brandishes a tube, reaches in and takes out another one. “I got classic, I got cheddar, I got curly and flamin’ hot, I got salt and vinegar—“
“There’s salt and vinegar now?” Tim suddenly leans forward, grabbing the tube from her. Lucy starts screeching, pulling it away.
“You’re covered in gasoline and germs! go wash your hands.”
Tim brandishes his hands in her direction. “Where do you see the gasoline?”
“I don’t see the germs either, but I know they exist!” Lucy giggles, smacking him on the shoulder. “Go inside, use the bathroom, I’ll be here with Tamara.”
Tim spots her talking with the cashier, practically bouncing in place. His eyes narrow. “Is the cashier a man?”
Lucy glances at him, then at the store. She huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s a girl, same age as Tamara. Very nice, her name’s Marisol, she’s in a band, and it turns out she has a gig at a coffee shop ten minutes away from Tamara’s university. They’re meeting there next week.”
Tim’s eyes narrow further. “That’s suspicious.”
Lucy taps her finger against Tim’s forehead. “Stop that, you’ll get wrinkles.” She smiles, “You’re cute when you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried,” Tim says, still frowning, mostly for show. “I’m concerned.”
“Hm, same thing,” Lucy teases. “Come on, the girl’s nice, and Tamara seems excited. It’s nothing bad.”
And what Tim wants to say is Caleb seemed nice too, but he was a fucking psycho and I didn’t see it and it nearly— it nearly killed you. I’ll never make that mistake again, much less with Tamara. “I’m still doing a background check.”
Lucy rolls her eyes dramatically. “Fine, but you better hide that from Tamara. If that girl becomes her girlfriend, she’ll be pissed off. Gonna spend the next week yelling ‘ACAB’ at you.”
“What does that mean?” Tim asks, aiming for the ‘confused old man’ shtick Tamara’s always teasing him for. He’d rather not imagine the possibility of something happening to Tamara. His hands shake at the thought, which makes him hate himself just a little. He’s trained. He should be better. “I saw a Hello Kitty photo with those letters.”
Lucy notices, of course she does, but she doesn’t say anything. She takes his hand, wraps her fingers around his, and smiles gently. “She’s gonna be okay,” She soothes, quiet. “There’s good people out there, and I think she’s one of them.”
Tim can only think of the what ifs, of the possibilities, no matter how minuscule. This job takes a lot out of him. “I know,” He says, squeezing her hand. He has Lucy and Tamara and everyone at the station, and they’re good. Too good for him, he thinks sometimes. But he knows that’s just his dad, and all the insecurities he put in him, talking.
He knows it’s not about deserving, it’s about choosing. About doing the best they can with what they have, and that’s what they’ve been doing so far. It’s about choosing to care, to love, and Lucy choosing that back. And it’s about Tamara too; about accepting him into her life; behind every teasing word, every joke, there’s implicit trust. Tim’s careful to ensure that she knows it’s reciprocated. That he understands and accepts it.
Tamara climbs into the backseat, cheeks flushed gentle pink and smiling a little too wide. “Let’s go.”
Lucy twists in her seat to stare at Tamara. “Why are you blushing?”
“You’re blushing,” Tamara accuses.
Tim guffaws, barely holding a hand to his mouth to muffle it. Tamara gapes, offended, and smacks him on the shoulder twice. He doubles over, silently cackling.
“Tammy,” Lucy starts with a grin. “Did the cashier flirt with you?”
“No,” Tamara says. Her cheeks are growing redder by the second. “No, if anything she was being friendly because she wanted me to buy more stuff. Because it’s part of customer service and that’s half the job!”
“So, she flirted with you?” Tim snorts, looking at Tamara through the rearview mirror. “Tammy’s first crush.” He singsongs, to which she flushes even redder.
“Stop!”
“Tammy,” Lucy says with a laugh, grabbing the younger’s hand. “She really was flirting with you, I could see it.”
Tamara pauses, biting her lower lip. “You really think so?”
“Yes!” Lucy exclaims, grinning. “Did you get her number? For the café thing?”
“…yeah.” She slowly starts smiling too, until it threatens to split her face in half. “Yeah, it— it was really— nice.”
“Well there you go!” Lucy exclaims. “Tamara’s first girlfriend!”
“Not girlfriend yet,” Tim interferes, because he can’t help himself. “And I expect you to pass me her number. A full background check is underway.”
“Jesus,” Tamara huffs. “You’re insane, I’m not doing that.”
“You will,” Tim says. “It’s only ‘cause I sent you back in there that you got her number.”
“Shut up,” Tamara says, no heat behind it. “Just drive. And I’ll be rating you afterwards.”
“Oh, like Uber!” Lucy exclaims cheerily. “Tim, would you like to be our Uber driver for today?”
“I’d like to get my credit card back, if anything.”
“Nope,” Tamara says. “You’ve lost card privileges. I’ll be keeping it safe.”
Tim’s lips press into a thin line, and he sighs. “My credit score is done for, huh?”
“Yup,” Lucy says with a grin, queuing up her Spotify. A rather cheerful song starts playing. “At least it’ll be fun.”
“FUCK THE ALGORITHM!” Tamara screams along to the lyrics, along with a stream of gibberish that sounds nothing like what the artist is singing. Tim ups the volume to drown out the noise. In response, Tamara sings louder. Lucy joins her.
Tim tries to hold back a grin, and fails.
________
Tim checks the clock. It’s been a half hour and the car is still engulfed in silence. He pursues his lips. This is cause for concern. This is a deeply concerning matter. Never in history has Tim been in an enclosed space with Tamara for over five seconds without talking. She’s not even on her phone, just staring out the window.
“Tamara?” He tries, delicate. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
Tim bites the inside of his cheek, fingers nervously drumming on the wheel. Tamara’s fairly independent, low maintenance, treats Tim like an extension of Lucy and teases him just for breathing most days like any good little sister. She’s confident, not shy or the type to keep her opinions to herself, much less if it upsets her, which Tim thinks he has.
She and Lucy are a package deal, and Tim accepted it in stride. He wouldn’t get one without the other, and he was okay with it. He liked Tamara, and Tamara… well, he thought Tamara liked him. But her reaction to his declaration, her silence and the cold shoulder, are making him reconsider.
Tamara is Lucy’s sister. And if Tamara doesn’t like him, Lucy won’t stick around him. And it’ll be a tragedy, because both sisters are too selfless; Tamara won’t ask Lucy to leave Tim, and Lucy won’t ask Tamara to tolerate him. And Tim will leave even if they’re both family to him, because he will never come between them. He won’t ever let himself be the reason they stop being close as sisters. “Do you not want Lucy to marry me?” He finally asks, breathless. He wants Tamara’s approval, as she’s the only person he can truly ask for it from. It won’t be Lucy’s parents, it can’t be Jackson, no one else is close enough to her for him to ask. Her sister is the only option, and even if she wasn’t her opinion matters. Her thoughts matter to Tim.
“It’s not that,” Tamara says after a second’s hesitation. Tim, suddenly, can breathe comfortably again. “I just—“ She huffs, grits her teeth, shifts in her seat. “I don’t wanna be the weird roommate when you and Lucy get married and start having kids.” She seems to curl in on herself, arms wrapping around her legs. “I want to let you guys have your space, but finding somewhere I can afford hasn’t been easy, and vetting roommates has me going nowhere, and I’m really trying to find somewhere, but I honestly don’t have anywhere else to go—“
“Tamara,” Tim says, careful and gentle, like soothing a scared animal. “We’re not expecting you to move out. It’s your home too.”
“No, it’s Lucy’s.”
“And yours,” Tim insists. “Tamara, I knew you and Lucy were a package deal when I got with her. I know you two are family. You’re her sister,” He says. He can’t imagine Tamara not seeing that, not internalizing it as a fact.
Tamara suddenly twists to look at Tim, eyes shining with something. Tim hopes it’s not tears. He’ll have to pull over and call Lucy, taking her away from her conference. And Tim is fucking awful at comforting people, he’ll just make it worse. He hates seeing Tamara unhappy.
“Lucy said I’m her sister?” Tamara asks, awed, eyes wide and glassy.
“Yeah,” Tim says, surprised Tamara ever doubted it. “She calls you her sister to everyone who’ll listen. Shows them pictures of you and of that ugly project you made senior year.”
Tamara sputters, offended. ”It was a Barbie-themed recreation of the explosion of Mount Vesuvius at Pompeii, Tim, it was beautiful.”
“It was monstrous,” He retorts. “Felt like I was looking at a Pepto Bismol fountain.”
“They’re not even the same color! They’re different shades of pink!”
“Point is!” Tim interrupts. “You’re Lucy’s sister, her family, and I knew that going in. I never expected you to go, or to change your routine so I could come in. I’m integrating myself into your life and your family, not the other way around.”
“Oh,” Tamara starts, hesitant. “Um, I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“I’m sorry if we— if I made you feel that way.”
“You didn’t, not really,” Tamara says. “Just— I don’t know. I still can’t really believe that— you know, that I get to live with Lucy. That she’s my— my sister.”
Tim reaches over, placing a hand on Tamara’s shoulder. “You’re her family, and she’s yours. And I want your blessing to marry her.”
Tamara grins. “Honestly? I was waiting for you to pop the question. I know Lucy’s really excited.”
Tim grins back. “She said that?”
“Pretty much,” Tamara confirms. “She has a Pinterest board of wedding ideas, and she always stares at bridal shops a little too long. It’s kinda disgusting if I’m being honest, but I like seeing her happy.” She turns to Tim, “You’ll make her happy, right?”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of it,” Tim says. “Will you go ring shopping with me?”
“Duh,” Tamara says. “You certainly have no taste in rings. Or accessories. I expect to see the suit you’ll wear to the wedding too.” Tim laughs as Tamara says it. He’d missed this, the normal her. When she sasses him and cracks jokes at his expense and, deep down, shows she cares about him. “Also, we have to stop for pancakes. Now. I’m starving.” She reaches for the screen, changing the GPS location, and turning up the music. “Verte en el VIP de lejitos es un privilegio—!”
Tim rolls his eyes, fond. He takes the first exit to the iHop, Tamara screaming along to the music. He likes that, knowing she’s having fun. That she isn’t sad, or suffering. She’s already family. Had been family since the first time he and Lucy made it official, and the first thing she did was bring up Tamara.
Tim smiles. He hopes Tamara will help him and Lucy find venues.
________
Tim still can’t believe Tamara talked him into this. Eight hours is nothing, she proclaimed. Do you want the perfect proposal or not? So Tim went all okay, you drive us then. And Tamara ran out the door. Now here he is. Half an hour in, ring burning a hole in his pocket, hands clammy and feeling more than a bit terrified. He’s proposing for god’s sake.
By hour one, he starts to question his every decision. Proposing in Lake Tahoe? That’s so cliché. And spending a weekend there in a cabin? With no AC? Or heating? With mosquitoes? What was he thinking? Lucy’s gonna hate it. She’s gonna see his first attempt at being a husband and be utterly disappointed. She’s gonna say no. Tamara’s going to kill him. He’s gonna have to change stations in order to avoid her. Tamara and Lucy are going to take Kojo. People will know how bad he is at proposing and point and laugh when he walk-of-shames his last day at the station. His life is over.
Hour two, he starts to calm down. How bad can it be? He has bug spray, they can cool down in the lake when it’s too hot, cuddle for warmth. It’s gonna be fine. (Tim, why are you sweating. I’m not. …ok). No one at the station is gonna find out because Lucy’s not the type to tell, though Tamara is, but who does she know at the station, really? And they don’t have enough space for Kojo, so they won’t take him. Tamara’s been talking a lot about getting a cat, so Tim should accelerate the process. Call it a wedding gift from the groom to the maid of honor. And Lucy won’t say no, right? Tamara’s convinced they’re gonna get married, and Tim and Lucy have talked about it at length. How it’d work, if they’re both down, the works. It’s gonna be fine. (Tim, you’re really sweating, want me to drive? Nope, I’m fine. Ok). (Why are you taking pictures of me? I’m not!).
Hour three he starts thinking about Kojo. Is he having fun with Tamara? Is she taking him to the dog park? Making sure to not overfeed him? (Tim, we are not calling Tamara. But what if— No).
Hour four, he’s back to thinking about the proposal. Tamara suggested boyband choreography and Tim immediately dismissed it, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Tamara knows her sister best, and Lucy’s gonna want a good story to tell. And Tamara will kill him if Lucy doesn’t come out of it happy. Shit. (Lucy, can you drive? Why? And Tim definitely can’t say ‘I’m losing my fucking mind thinking of how to propose’, so instead he says, never mind). A very confused Tamara answers the phone, and Tim is left speaking in code, trying to not let Lucy know. (Eagle isn’t sure how to land? Lucy asks, incredulous, laughing her ass off. Tim contemplates, briefly, jumping out of the car). (He does not).
Hour five, he starts paying close attention to the playlist. It jumps from genre to genre; BTS, Kendrick Lamar, Backstreet Boys, Bad Bunny, Flex N Flow, bachata by an artist whose name Tim didn’t catch, Megan Thee Stallion, Selena Quintanilla, Chase Atlantic, too many other artists to name. (Is that the Twilight soundtrack? Yes. Cool). (Tim, in a brief moment of insanity, considers proposing in a way reminiscent of Twilight. This thought is abandoned seconds after popping into his brain).
Hour six, they stop for pancakes. Lucy calls Tamara and Tim sits by the diner’s counter, staring down at the strawberry syrup like it’ll give him answers. It doesn’t. And neither does the poor seventeen year old cashier, who looks at Tim like he’s insane as he unloads. (But I’m not even sure how to propose anymore because I want it to be romantic and a good story but I’m not a romantic guy and her sister isn’t being very helpful and I’m just scared that I won’t be able to even get this right and—). (The cashier, thankfully, clears her throat loudly, effectively shutting him up and keeping Lucy from finding out). As they’re leaving, the cashier pats Tim on the shoulder. “You’re hopeless,” She says with a mocking smile. “Good luck,” She adds, slightly less mocking. Tim is losing his goddamn mind.
Hour seven, Tim revisits the boyband choreography option. TikTok dances are always an option. A very bad option, of course, but they should be easy enough to learn. This is, of course, a lie Tim tells himself. Tamara tried to teach him the ‘renegade’ (whatever that meant) and he’s yet to live it down. There was a very long six month stretch where that video played every time Tim walked into a room. Tamara had a screenshot of it as her phone background. The sound of Tim cursing and dancing was her ringtone. She made tshirts. That cannot be his proposal story. It needs to be a good story, not a fucking ridiculous one.
Hour eight, Tim decides he’ll go simple. Little picnic, walk on the lake, he’ll pop the question at sunset. Easy, classic, pretty, perfect. Boom. Who cares about originality anyway? It’s a good story and that’s what matters.
So, he engages in his plan at sunset. Lucy suggests a picnic, and they grocery shop whilst stupidly in love. They playfully bicker over fruit and cheese choices, dutifully compare champagnes and wines, and pick the perfect bread and butter. Lucy even grabs the beer that he likes, and he laughs as he showcases her favorite chips.
They sit in some rocks, between a few trees, and dip their feet into the crystal clear water. They share food and drinks, and laugh at dumb things. Tim looks at her, at her smile, and thinks that maybe this is all he’ll ever need. Someone he loves, who loves him back, some music and food, it’s everything he could ever need.
Lucy drags him by the hand, near sunset. They walk with their feet in the water, fingers wrapped together. There’s no need for words, and they’re both smiling ear to ear. The sun is lowering on the horizon, a nice breeze keeps them cool, and the water ripples in the distance. It’s perfect.
“Tim,” She calls out, slipping her hand out of his. He stops at her voice, turns around to check what she wanted. He doesn’t see her for a few seconds, eyes searching for her at the exact height where she should be. “Tim,” She whispers this time, and he looks down.
She’s on one knee.
“Tim, I—“ She rakes a deep breath, eyes watering, smile hesitant. “I’ve had some relationships in my life, and I always— I never really thought something long term was for me, and—“ She chokes up, looks down. “And— and I met you and I’m so—“ Her eyes fill up with tears, expression twisting. “I’m so lucky.”
Oh.
Tim drops to his knees in seconds, grasping her hands in his. “I’m lucky,” He says, overcome with emotion. Tears sting in his eyes. “I’m so lucky to have someone like you love me.”
Lucy sniffles. “I wanted this to be perfect and I think I jumped too early—“
“No,” Tim rushes to say. The idea that she had the same thoughts as him, that they both wanted to make a perfect proposal and were so in tune they practically did it at the same time— it’s so perfect. It’s so fucking perfect. “No, it—“ He laughs quietly to himself. “I was planning the same thing.”
“What?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the box but keeps it closed. “I spent the entire drive stressed out of my mind, trying to think of a way to make sure this was perfect and—“ He takes a deep breath, tries to keep the tears at bay, and chokes. “I shouldn’t have, because any moment with you is just that, perfect. And just having you here is—“ He reaches for her hand, grasps it like a lifeline. “I’m lucky.”
Lucy makes a sound between a laugh and a sob, and Tim wants to reach out and wipe her tears. Wants to make them go away this very second. “You’re the most incredible person I know,” She whispers. She brandishes her own ring box, opens it to showcase the ring inside. A red ruby, for his birthstone. “You make me so fucking happy. You make me feel so loved.”
Tim huffs out a laugh, also resembling a sob, and opens the ring box he brought. A red sapphire, for her birthstone. “Lucy Chen,” He whispers. “You make me a better man, and happier than I ever thought I could be.” She sobs, and Tim does too. “And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. To make you feel loved, the same way you do to me.”
“Timothy Bradford,” She whispers, leaning her forehead against his. “Sometimes I think the stars made you for me.” She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and opens them again. “I adore you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” He whispers with a strained laugh. “Lucy Chen, will you marry me?” He whispers in Cantonese, to her delighted laughter.
“Yes,” She replies, in her native tongue. She can’t stop smiling. “Yes!” She laughs, delighted, and crashes her lips against his.
(Later, Tamara frantically texts the groupchat, asking how it went down. Upon receiving a picture of matching rings, and a heartfelt thanks for ensuring it’d be perfect, she sends a two minute voice memo of her screaming in excitement. Their family is complete).
________
“I think Mei, if it’s a girl,” Lucy says, hands over her stomach. She won’t be showing until week thirteen, at least, but it feels right to still hold her hands there. Protecting her growing baby, barely ten weeks old. God, they must be so tiny. “I’d like for her to have some of her heritage, and mine.”
“That’s beautiful,” Tim says, earnest. The hand not on the wheel locks with her own. He smiles when she brings it up to her stomach, right over a specific spot. Intuition tells her that’s where her growing baby is laying. “They kicking?”
Lucy giggles. “They’re not at the kicking stage yet, Tim! I’m barely hitting ten weeks.”
“I’m just excited,” Tim replies. He can’t stop smiling at the idea of a little mix of him and Lucy running around the world. “Any ideas if it’s a boy?”
“I was thinking you could name him,” Lucy says with a smile. She turns up the music; a happy pop song. She hums, smiling. “Besides, if it was up to me I’d name them after BTS members.”
“That might not be so bad,” Tim snorts. “What was the name of the one I liked? With the tattoos?” He waits a beat, “The one singing now, right?”
Lucy giggles. “Yes, Jungkook.”
Tim attempts to correctly say the name, and promptly gives up. “Yeah, maybe an easier name. I like the Joon guy.”
“He’s academic, that’s a good sign for naming our baby after him,” Lucy shrugs. “Not sure how to explain our son having a Korean name when I’m Chinese, but.”
Tim laughs. “Yeah, might confuse him.” He pauses. “I like the name Thomas, though. I know it’s— it clashes if we name our daughter Mei, but— well, Thomas was my uncle, and he was always there for me and my sister, so I just… I think I’d like to name our son that, if you’re okay with it, I mean.” He curses his own nervousness. He’s not a child asking his father to spend time with Uncle Tommy. He’s a grown man talking with his wife, whom he loves more than anything. Who loves him more than anything.
Lucy reaches out, grasping his hand in her own. She squeezes gently. “That’s lovely, Tim. I think— I think it’s a beautiful name.”
Tim nods with a gentle smile. He can imagine it already; holding his children, mapping out the similarities between them and the love of his life. Reading them stories before bedtime. Holding them against his chest, feeling them breathe, their warmth. He can’t wait. “I’d also like to give him Jackson’s name, if you’re okay with it.”
Lucy’s eyes water, and for a split second Tim wonders if it was too much. Then her lips break out into a grin. “Yeah, I’d— I’d love that, but are you— are you sure? I want you to give a name you like, not just for me.”
He reaches for her hand, brings her knuckles up to his lips for a kiss. “He’s your brother,” Tim says. “And Thomas Jackson has a good ring to it, don’t you think?”
Lucy hums, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “Yeah,” She says. “Thomas Jackson. TJ, maybe.” She grins. “I can’t wait.”
Tim can’t wait either. Is so excited he’s ready to jump out of his own skin. Wants to build nurseries and paint rooms and buy baby clothes.
“Hey, Tim,” Lucy interrupts his thought. He takes a glance at her, checks her over for any discomfort, and hums. She taps the GPS screen twice, over the iHop on the next exit. “Your child is begging for pancakes.”
Without saying anything, Tim turns on his blinker, taking the exit to the iHop. This will add at least another hour to their trip, two and a half if traffic gets bad. But his wife and child are hungry, so it’s worth it. Shit, he’d drive over forty hours to anywhere in the USA if Lucy asked him to.
Lucy snorts, as if reading his thoughts. “God, you better not be this much of a pushover when our kids are born.”
“Our kids know better than to take advantage of my kindness,” Tim says.
Lucy shakes her head. “Please, our kids will bat their eyelashes once and you’ll fold like a house of cards.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tim agrees with the widest, dumbest grin in the world. “You’ll have to be the bad parent, Luce. I won’t be able to say no to their little faces.”
Lucy throws her hands up. “I carry them for nine months, give birth, go through labor and you’re gonna make me be the bad parent?”
“You’ll get lots of pancakes to make up for it?” Tim attempts. “And syrup. And strawberries. So many strawberries, Luce.”
Lucy side eyes him, clearly struggling to hide a laugh. “Fine, but I want bacon too!”
“Yes ma’am,” Tim laughs.
+1
“Auntie Tammy said this is what mom and dad listened to when they went on roadtrips,” Mei says, tapping away at her phone. “Lots of BTS on here, but mom loved them so that makes sense— auntie said they took those quizzes on the road, to see which member they were.” From the driver’s seat, her brother hums in acknowledgement. “Kendrick too, ooh I love this song— the entire Twilight soundtrack is on here.”
“Auntie Tammy’s always trolling, she might’ve just lied for fun,” Thomas chimes in.
“She would never!” Mei exclaims. “She knows how important this is to us.” She presses play on a song.
Thomas groans. “Is that the one from the baseball scene?”
“Yes, and it’s glorious!” Mei exclaims. “Those movies are comedy gold. They are peak cinema. Oscar worthy.”
“No, that’s Fast and Furious.”
“Not everything you watched with mom is good.”
“And not everything you watched with dad is good!” Thomas retorts. The duo stare at each other for a few seconds. “Did he really cry at the final battle?”
“Yup,” Mei says. “Every time since I was six. One time he was holding you and you started licking his cheeks ‘cause he kept crying.”
“Ew. I would never do that.”
“You did, there’s videos,” Mei laughs. “You started crying every time—!” She wheezes. “Every time you saw the color blue!” She slaps her knee. “Couldn’t take you outside for months!”
“That’s bullshit!” He exclaims. “Why would I cry over blue? That’s got nothing to do with—“
“The ugly filter!” Mei giggles. “We had to change your room! I used to wave the blue te—“
“Oh my god, the demon in my room!” Thomas screams. He darts a hand out, smacking his sister repeatedly. In return, she hits him even harder, still laughing. “That was you? I had nightmares for weeks! I couldn’t look at— mom had to throw away all my teddy bears!”
“Yeah, ‘cause you were a pussy!” Mei cackles, though it becomes strained when he continues attempting to hit her. “You dickhead!” She bellows, pulling him into a headlock.
He chokes, one hand darting up towards her face so he can attempt to gouge out an eye. “Stop!” He screams.
“Make me!” Mei yells back, sticking a finger in her mouth, then in his ear.
Thomas makes a sound like he’s been shot. “I hate you!”
“I hate you more!” She retorts, then starts screaming as she pulls away from him. “Look at the road, stupid!”
Thomas screams as he swerves back into his lane. “Fuck!”
“Fuck!” Mei echoes. She changes the song immediately.
“Finally, some good fucking music,” Thomas says, smacking the wheel. “OWA OWA OWA OWA!” He bangs his head like it’s metal and not pop. He sings some gibberish before continuing to the English lines. He looks just like their dad.
Mei chokes on laughter. Her baby brother never learned to sing, or to hold a note. Between him and their dad, karaoke was a goddamn nightmare. Mei is forever grateful that she got her mom’s singing voice.
She remembers it clearer than Thomas, but they had family roadtrips as kids. Mom and dad would always get special breakfast from a fast food place, the greasy kind that little Mei and Thomas loved, and acted like they were a DJ booth whenever songs were requested. When they were even smaller, mom and dad took turns in the backseat, sat between them. Dad would tell stories and gave voices to all the characters, and mom would listen to Mei and Thomas talk about anything and everything, for hours, no matter how boring it was. She remembers her parents holding headphones over mom’s stomach when she was pregnant, carefully curating a playlist for Thomas to listen to. Mei had her own, of course, but she always liked Thomas’ better. She picked half the songs on it.
She stares at his side profile as he sings, not a care in the world, and wonders if mom felt something like this, too. If she looked at them and knew that, no matter what, she would love them. That it was unconditional.
Mei glances at the backseat, where a framed picture of her parents rests, the seatbelt holding it in place. It still hurts, to think that her parents are long gone. She takes them everywhere with her; a picture tucked in her wallet or on the back of her phone case, her mom’s earrings or dad’s necklace, their teachings and warm words forever ingrained in her mind along with the memories. She sometimes thinks of what she’d say to them, if she had the opportunity to. If she’d ask mom to speak Cantonese with her, or if she’d ask dad to show her how to change her tires again. If she’d cook with them, music too loud so they’d need to yell and laugh and sing to hear each other. She wonders if her parents are watching her and her brother, smiling at their antics. Wonders if they’re proud. If they’re happy.
She glances at her baby brother again, eyes the happiness in his eyes, the laughter in his throat, the song on his tongue.
Mei concludes they are.