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day one - roasted marshmallows
She finds the marshmallows tucked into the back of her cabinet.
They’re still soft, thankfully, even though they’re months old and weren’t stored in a very airtight way, and she takes the bag back into the living room.
Regina and Janis are sitting in front of the fireplace on a big blanket that was stuffed in the closet from last year. Regina’s foot is hooked over Janis’ as they talk, giggling every few sentences as they run through topics at lightning speed. When she left, it was the new boy at school whose handwriting was too crooked to read, and now it’s the new Disney show. The only other sound in the room is gentle crackling and popping from the fire, and quiet music playing on the TV. She doubts the girls even notice it in the first place.
“Are you girls making s’mores?”
Janis is first to respond, looking from Regina to the enquirer. She crinkles her nose, nibbling on a chocolate graham cracker, nudging at Regina’s foot with her own, successfully lobbying the question off with a gentle, “Should we?”
Regina leans back on her palms and looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to sense out something that’s not there. “Do we have chocolate, Nana?”
Joan drops her jaw in mock offense at her granddaughter, “You think I’d have you girls over without s’mores supplies? Who do you take me for?”
Regina and Janis giggle, and Joan gently ruffles Regina’s hair. “Take the marshmallows. I’ll be back with the chocolate and the crackers you like, Reggie.”
“Thank you, Nana!” Regina calls after her.
Before she leaves the living room, Joan picks her camera up from the couch’s side table and takes a picture. There’s a part of her that wishes they could stay like this forever, but she finds the idea of what’s next to be more exciting.
(And now, they can revisit the moment, even when it passes.
day two - their beginning
Joan is relieved when she finally meets Janis.
She’s been around too long and met too many people that aren’t as good as they make themselves out to be, but the look that Regina and Janis give each other is mutual. She isn’t sure what the look means yet, but she does know that it’s affectionate. Joan’s glad that Regina has Janis.
They’re at the kitchen table now, hunched over homework with a paper between both of theirs covered in different math equations. Joan’s pretty sure that they’re doing division, but there’s all sorts of things on the paper, all scribbled and in varying states of done.
“12 times 11 is 120,” Janis says boldly, only for Regina to whack her with her pencil.
Joan’s about to step in, but Janis quickly whacks her back with a pointed “What?”
“12 times 11 is 132, dummy,” Regina retorts. “That’s why your answer is wrong.”
It’s amusing, watching how a frown pulls at the corners of Janis’ mouth and her eyebrows crinkle into one as she tries to comprehend what Regina just said to her.
She finally pouts and mutters a sad “Oh,” before erasing something on her paper aggressively. “I hate math.”
Regina blows a raspberry, “Me too.”
Joan grabs her camera from its spot by the microwave, left there last night to charge.
She takes a quick picture, happy that neither girl notices.
She’s scrolling through some of the pictures still on the camera when Regina calls for her.
“I don’t know how to divide this,” Regina points at one of the questions on the page. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“What did your teacher tell you to do?” Joan asks, sitting down next to her. Sure, she retired ten years ago, but she can still do math. Still teach something. That’s what grandmas are for, after all.
day three - elmo in crisis
Joan watches out of the corner of her eye as Christopher tends to the fire in the fireplace, and tunes out the way that he and Harrison are bickering over the right way to keep it going.
June hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch, and barely spoken all morning aside from asking Regina if she wants to open her gifts. She hoped that the coffee would help June’s sour mood, but it’s not doing anything and Joan’s losing patience with her. She still has a hard time understanding what it is that Christopher sees in that woman, but she’d rather bite her tongue and keep him in close proximity rather than lose him all together. Harrison’s already in California and Becca’s in New York.
She’s lucky Harrison came home, even if he didn’t bring back his new girlfriend. Joan knows it’s early, but he sounded so excited on the phone.
She’s brought away from her thoughts when Regina pulls at her pajama pants, making grabby hands to get into her lap.
“Hey, Reggie,” Joan puts her coffee mug down and pulls the toddler into her lap. “You having a good Christmas?”
“Good Christmas,” Regina agrees with a hard nod. “Wanna open present.”
“Ah, anything specific?” Joan asks, eyeing a present over her granddaughter’s head at the base of the tree. It’s one in her wrapping paper, and she’s pretty sure that she knows what’s inside of the box.
Regina just looks up at her curiously, and Joan nods at her son. “Harry, grab me the present under the ornament of Chris as a baby?”
“Yeah, this one?” Harrison grabs the gift, and hands it over when Joan nods. “Reggie, you are spoiled, m’lady.”
“Present!” Regina cheers, making grabby hands at the gift.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Joan says, putting the present in Regina’s lap. “This is for you. Be gentle.”
“Gentle,” Regina repeats, being anything but as she rips open the paper and reveals the shoebox underneath. Joan helps her through opening it, and smiles when Regina cries out “E’mo!” with a happy shriek at seeing the slippers.
“Yes, Elmo,” Joan nods, helping Regina into the slippers. “Perfect fit. Take them for a test run.”
Regina giggles, running around the room at an almost concerning speed and showing her new accessory to her father excitedly. Joan smiles softly at the way he inspects them and makes a big deal of them really being Elmo, much to Regina’s delight.
“Those are ridiculous,” June mutters, just loud enough for Joan to hear.
“They make her happy,” Joan retorts, grabbing her camera off the table.
“She’s two, she’s just going to destroy them anyway,” June remarks, sipping from her own mug.
Joan disregards her as she takes a picture of Regina, needing anything as a distraction from starting a pre-Christmas breakfast argument.
The slippers make Regina happy. That’s all Joan cares about. She hopes Regina stays that happy forever.
day four - perfect snow day
It is blisteringly cold.
Joan is waiting for the girls to want to go back home, but they’re relentless. Every time Regina’s brow twitches in that way that says she’s exhausted, she seems to fight it and push on so that she and Janis can sled once more.
Janis lost her glove. Joan doesn’t know how, but Christopher made sure to give Janis one of is. Joan’s pretty sure that he’s scared of Janis’ father, but she hasn’t gotten verbal proof of that yet.
If Joan loved her granddaughter a little less, she’d be sitting in the pickup truck right now with the heat on so high that she’d become a rotisserie chicken, but instead, she stands, watching as Janis and Regina trudge up the hill once again with their sled dragged behind them. Their individual sleds are sitting in the bed of the pickup, but they’ve been sharing one for maybe four rides now.
“Have you taken any pictures yet?” Christopher asks, handing her a travel mug of hot chocolate. They prepared it for the girls, but they haven’t wanted it yet. There are two more in the car.
“A few,” Joan admits, still cold, even with the hot chocolate. “We’re going to need to get them inside soon. I don’t want to return Janis to Lani and Vasa as a popsicle.”
“We’ll get them eventually,” Christopher says, and they both hold their breath as Regina sets herself and Janis up on the sled and then kicks her leg out to give them momentum and send them flying down the hill. “I miss having that kind of energy.”
“I wish they’d have less of that kind of energy,” Joan comments, only half meaning it. She’d just like to be anywhere warmer than this right now. “I bet you wish you had your other glove right now.”
“I have pockets for a reason,” Christopher replies. “Get a picture of them when they come back up again. Before and after.”
“Why don’t you take it?” Joan asks, handing him her camera. “Someone’s got to keep taking them. I won’t be around forever.”
“Mom, don’t talk like that,” his voice softens, and Joan squeezes his arm.
“I am just saying. I’m not going to be around forever.”
“I know,” Christopher says.
A comfortable silence sits between them while they wait for Regina and Janis to come back up the hill, and when they do, Joan tells them to wrap an arm around each other for the picture.
It’s not refined. They look exhausted, and Janis’ too-big glove sticks out, and their scarves look like they’re almost lost to the wind. But, they’re happy. Joan would take any cold to see those smiles on their faces.
day five - baby kylie
“What if I drop her?”
“You’re not going to drop her,” Regina assures Janis, even though her leg kicks back and forth as they wait for June to bring Kylie over.
Joan sits patiently close to them, watching. Janis is obviously nervous, but she keeps looking at Kylie in her basinet anyway and Regina’s holding her hand in a way that feels practiced. It’s not surprising, the girls are never more than two feet from each other these days. If Joan didn’t know better, she’d think they’re a set. They might as well be.
But now, they’re introducing Kylie into the fold. Baby Kylie. Born just fifteen days before Janis’ birthday. She’s all Regina talks about, and Joan hopes that that doesn’t cause some kind of rift between her and Janis.
“I can show you how to hold her,” Regina suggests, eager.
Janis just nods nervously, staring at Kylie like she’s some kind of alien creature. Regina lets go of her hand, but their knees knock together instead.
June brings Kylie over to Regina first, making sure the baby’s fully supported before letting go and stepping back.
“She’s so tiny,” Janis marvels, eyes wide. “Were you that tiny?”
Regina looks to her mother, who nods. “Tinier. Kylie weighed more when she was born than you.”
“Woah,” Janis murmurs, watching Regina and Kylie in awe. “I’ve never been this close to a baby before. She’s really gonna be someone someday?”
“Maybe she’ll like pineapple on pizza,” Regina says, which Janis groans at.
“Hawaiʻi did not make that abomination,” Janis retorts, making Regina laugh.
“C’mon, you hold her now,” Regina says.
“What? No, I’ll drop her. I’m gonna drop her. And then you’re gonna hate me forever.”
“You’re not going to drop her,” Regina assures her, telling Janis to affix her arms in the same way hers are. Janis obliges, even though she looks nervous, and Regina eases the baby into her arms the same way her mother did for her.
“There,” Regina looks entirely proud of herself. “You’re holding the baby.”
Janis looks bewildered, and Joan quickly takes a photo when Regina takes a second to fix Kylie’s baby beanie.
“I’m holding the baby,” Janis murmurs. “Oh my god. Reggie, we’re gonna have to protect her.”
Regina nods firmly, “We will. Best big sisters in the world.”
Janis looks down at Kylie again, and then at Regina. “Yeah. Best big sisters.”
day six - kindergarten blues
The big yellow bus croaks as it comes up the hill towards where Joan is waiting.
It’s a gorgeous day outside. Low 70s, almost clear skies with the softest looking clouds. The sun is high in the sky, but not in anyone’s eyes.
Joan’s the only one waiting for Regina. Christopher had work, and June said she couldn’t reschedule her appointment. What appointment it was, Joan didn’t ask, but she’s happy that she gets to be here when Regina gets off the bus after her first day at school.
It’s almost unbelievable that Regina’s in school already. June wanted to enroll her last year, but Regina didn’t meet the state requirement of being five years old yet, and Joan didn’t think it was necessary. She told Christopher as much, but she’s not sure that he was all that involved with the decision.
The bus comes to a slow stop in front of Joan, and she can hear the kids on the bus all talking and giggling. The bus driver smiles at Joan, and wishes Regina a good rest of her day as Regina disembarks the bus.
The step from the final step of the bus to the ground makes Joan’s heart lurch, but Regina manages it flawlessly and says goodbye to her bus driver before rocketing forward and into her grandmother’s arms.
“Nana!” Regina wraps her arms around Joan’s waist, staring up at her. “I did it! I did school!”
“You did, didn’t you?” Joan smooths her hair. “Wait, step back, sweetheart, let me see that outfit.”
Regina does as asked, and even twirls in her dress. She looks so proud of herself, and Joan takes a couple of pictures of her before taking her hand and leading her up the driveway.
Regina tells her about her day. She talks about her classmates; the girl who wouldn’t stop crying, the boy who “would not shut up about football,” the other boy that just wouldn’t shut up at all, and the girl who moved from Canada. She also talks about how her teacher gave them class jobs and Regina got pencil sharpener and how upset she is about that. She calls it meaningless and Joan tries not to laugh.
“Mommy has to sign some papers,” Regina tells her as they get up to the front steps of the house. “I need to tell her to sign the papers.”
“I’ll remind you to tell her when she gets home, okay?” Joan says, opening the front door to the house.
Regina’s silence is almost deafening, but she nods after a minute and says “Okay” in a way that’s definitely not okay. Joan wonders if June ever told Regina that she wasn’t going to be home.
She wants to be angry about it, but she keeps a nice face on for Regina, suggesting that they find an after school snack. She can yell at June later.
day seven - present joy
Regina bounces around Toys R Us like she’s on a mission.
She is, really. She’s looking for the “perfect gift,” or so she says. Joan’s admittedly surprised that they’re at this particular store. The girls are ten now, and she thought that they’d find themselves too old for something like Toys R Us by now.
But, no, here she stands, following Regina through the aisles as she tries to find the perfect Christmas present for Janis.
They’ve been friends for almost two years now, and their never-ending closeness has been delightful to watch, even if right now it’s resulted in Regina and Joan ambling around a toy store with no clear goal in mind. Every time Joan’s asked Regina what she has in mind, Regina’s just insisted that she’ll know it when she sees it.
This isn’t a trip guided by the catalogue that came in the mail, or the one that Regina scrolled through for close to an hour on her laptop earlier.
(Joan still doesn’t understand the point in giving a ten-year-old a laptop with unrestricted internet access, but she digresses.)
This is a trip guided by something that Regina can’t even name, and with a goal that she’s making seem a bit impossible. Regina will find it, Joan’s sure, but not without scouring every inch of the store first.
They finally stop in the arts and crafts aisle, where Regina inspects every single item there, tosses bags of rainbow-colored rubber bands into her basket, and finally settles on some kind of art set labeled intermediate. Joan isn’t too sure of the details, but she asks Regina if she’s sure and Regina nods firmly.
“You’re doing a very nice thing,” Joan assures her, letting her hold the art set in her arms and taking the basket. “Can I take a picture of you?”
Regina crinkles her nose, “Why?”
“Memories, Reggie,” Joan says, waiting for the okay before grabbing her camera out of her purse. Regina holds the art set a bit tighter, and smiles proudly at her grandmother’s insistence.
She tucks her camera away again, and takes Regina’s hand as they head to the front of the store, “You know, we should pick out some nice wrapping paper for her.”
“I wanna use the kind that you use,” Regina responds, tiny fingers tightening around Joan’s hand. “The red paper with the gold stars.”
“Okay,” Joan nods, smiling at her proudly. “Whatever you want, Reggie.”
day eight - to-go cereal
Janis and Regina slept over last night.
They’ve had a sleepover almost every other weekend this summer, so often now that it’s almost become routine. Joan bought her a toothbrush a month ago to keep in the bathroom and Janis even knows where all of the snacks are in the kitchen.
Joan loves having Janis over, too. Regina’s happier, Janis is a good houseguest, and they stay up together giggling. It’s a lovely sound to have in the house. Any sound, really, is good, but specifically the sound of Janis and Regina giggling, is a good one.
Part of their routine has been breakfast in bed. It’s not anything close to that, not really, just water bottles and to-go cups of cereal, but they call it Breakfast in Bed. Janis puts on her favorite cartoons (which, if Joan is paying attention, are becoming Regina’s favorites, too), they pick out three cereals to snack on, and Joan spends the morning out on the back porch, drinking her coffee and waiting for the inevitable we want real food conversation to start.
Joan checked in on them when she woke up earlier this morning, sometime around 7, but the girls were still asleep in the guest room (oh, who is she kidding, it’s Regina’s room) and Joan knew better than to disturb them. But then, she ran into Regina in the hallway, presumably after she’d used the bathroom, and she promised to be up with their cereals soon.
By the time she gets back upstairs, cereals in hand, she finds the girls laid out on the bed. Janis is laid slightly sideways on the pillows, head on Regina’s but arm propped up on her own, and Regina’s head is in her lap. They’re talking about something, Joan doesn’t ask. They’ll tell her if they want to.
“Nana, Janis hasn’t seen Snow White.”
“Why would I want to see that? It’s old and about boys,” Janis crinkles her nose. “Doesn’t, she, like get saved by the boy? Who cares?”
“It’s pretty,” Regina insists, sitting up now. “Do we still have the DVD?”
“Probably somewhere,” Joan nods, handing them the to-go cups. Today, it’s Corn Pops, Apple Jacks, and Lucky Charms. “Maybe in the big DVD case.”
“Jay, you have to see the big DVD case!” Regina gawks, grabbing her best friend’s arm. “We have so many movies. Nana used to put them on for me when I was little.”
“You watched The Polar Express so many times, Reggie,” Joan comments, and Regina nods proudly.
“That’s my favorite Christmas movie.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen it,” Janis admits, ripping open the Apple Jacks container. “I think I’ve only seen The Grinch.”
“Nana, can we watch it?” Regina asks.
“Reggie, it’s July.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well,” Joan hums. “I’ll find the case. You two can pick. I think it’s supposed to rain today, anyway. Good day for movies.”
Regina nods fervently, and Joan heads off to find the DVD case. It’s tucked in the office, right where she left it whenever she and Regina last broke it out. The last time they watched a movie from the case was sometime around the new year. It was some cult classic that neither of them paid much attention to, far more focused on picking a new baking recipe.
She grabs her camera while she’s there, wanting to get some photos of the backyard in the still-morning light. It’s so gorgeous out there during this time.
“Reggie,” Joan pops her head into the room, holding the case out.
“Oh, yes!” Regina grabs the case, unzipping it almost immediately. “Thank you, Nana!”
“Of course,” Joan says, watching as Regina goes back to the bed and shows off the case. The girls have clearly moved since Joan saw them last. Their cereals are all open now, and placed in an unstable-looking triangle orientation, but they’re clearly enjoying it.
Joan takes a picture, and wonders what movie they’ll pick.
day nine - stolen magic
Regina takes a picture of Janis.
She’s laying in the grass, talking about something that Regina’s tuned out while playing with the settings on her grandma’s camera. She doesn’t know what half of the words mean - they must mean something to someone, however, that someone is not her - but she doesn’t care.
Janis looks pretty. That’s all that matters. Her grandma’s always told her to take pictures of pretty things, and that’s exactly what Janis is. A pretty thing. And an important thing. Something she doesn’t want to forget.
“But there are these other things,” Janis rambles on. “I forgot what they’re called. But they’re these giant springs. Kai almost had to get them. They put them on your braces and they make your jaw align.”
“Wait, what?” Regina looks up from the picture she just took. “What are you talking about?”
“The springs!” Janis responds, sitting up. “For braces, Regina.”
Regina feels sheepish as she admits, “I was distracted.”
“That’s okay,” Janis nods to the camera in her hands. “Your nana let you have that?”
“For the day,” Regina squints at it, trying to get it back to the home screen. “Why does she use this? It’s so much easier to just use your phone.”
“She’s old,” Janis shrugs. “Lemme take one.”
Regina hands the camera over delicately, and watches as Janis takes it into her hands with just as much care as she has for her art supplies. She holds it up, and tells Regina to smile.
Regina smiles. She doesn’t mind doing that for Janis.
“Perfect,” Janis grins, handing her the camera back. On the little preview screen, Regina sees herself staring back at her. She looks happy, sure, but she notices the neck of her shirt being off-kilter first, and then the weird way her cheek pokes when she smiles with all of her teeth, and then -
“Someday,” Janis hums, looking far too proud of herself. “I’m gonna paint you. I can’t do it yet. I’m not good enough. But one day, I will be.”
“You sound confident,” Regina says, not really knowing what else to do with that information. She changes the topic. “Let’s take more pictures.”
Janis grins, handing Regina the camera back. “Take good ones of me.”
Regina wants to tell her that there’s no way to take a bad picture of her, but she doesn’t know how. Something about that statement feels too weighted for two almost-seventh graders hanging out in a backyard.
“Please,” Regina responds instead, putting on a fresh smile and pushing the weird thoughts away. “They’ll be so good, we’ll frame them.”
day ten - new chapter
Shane is good for Regina.
Joan knew it the moment she met him. He’s kind, never grabby, and not afraid to goof around.
Something dimmed in Regina when Janis left, and while Shane hasn’t brought it back entirely, he’s made a decent attempt. She smiles more, and the tension in her shoulders lessens ever-so-slightly. Her guard still goes up the second that her mother walks in the room, but Joan supposes that that’s self-defense more than anything Shane’s doing.
It didn’t surprise Joan when Shane came out to her, and it didn’t surprise her when Regina was quiet through the whole thing, until later admitting to the fact that they were using the appearance to cover for her mom.
Joan, to try and provide some peace of mind, offered to take Regina and Shane’s graduation photos before heading off to the ceremony. Shane’s parents are going to be cutting it close to the event anyway thanks to work, and Joan joining the two on their drive there.
Regina looks perfect today; dressed in a nice white dress that they picked out a month ago, as well as a necklace and matching set of earrings. She’s kept her hair down, and just straightened it (so the cap fits properly, or so she said).
Her honors cord sits comfortably on her shoulders, and she’s adamantly refusing to zip the gown up. She doesn’t like the way it fits. Joan tried to tell her that it fits horrifically on everyone, but Regina wasn’t having it.
Before getting dressed this morning, Shane came over for breakfast and they decorated Regina’s car. Regina bought those window markers to draw with, and Shane took to writing Class of 2024 in the back glass, as well as Northwestern Bound! below that.
Joan’s glad they’re both going to Northwestern, even if she still doesn’t understand why Regina turned NYU down. From the way June made it sound, there was nearly pen to paper when Regina suddenly changed her mind. Northwestern it was. No debate, just… Northwestern. At least she’ll be home.
Joan leads them outside maybe half an hour before they’re supposed to leave, and Regina and Shane stand in front of the car.
“Can I hold a football?” Shane asks at one point, more to Regina than to Joan. “It might be all I have going for me.”
“Sure, if it means we’re done faster,” Regina responds, voice snippier than usual. She’s stressed. Joan knows that. But god, could this girl breathe? Just once?
They take pictures with Shane’s football, and then Joan gets them to stand by the back of the car and show off the art in the window, as well as their grad caps. Regina and Shane spent six hours last weekend working on them, decorating both to be Northwestern purple and have the logos. Regina painted hers, but Shane went for stencils. They both look perfect.
“We’re graduating today,” Shane says, bumping Regina’s shoulder as Joan finally tucks her camera away for safekeeping.
“Thank god for that,” Regina responds, meeting Joan’s eyes for a second, and then nodding to Shane. “Shane, take a picture of us? Please?”
“On my phone, or the camera?” Shane asks, his personality softening immediately. “I can do both.”
“Use my camera,” Joan says, handing him the bag. He props it on top of the car, carefully taking the camera out and letting Joan and Regina position themselves.
Shane adjusts his stance a little, and looks at the viewfinder, “Alright, on three, 1, 2, 3, cheese!”
The camera clicks, and Joan plans for a frame.
day eleven - counting stars
Regina and Janis have been outside for hours.
Joan isn’t sure what they’re doing out there. They went out initially with a blanket and their sketchbooks and they haven’t come back inside. It’s going to get dark out soon, but they don’t care.
The last time she looked, Regina was laying out on the grass while Janis drew. The time before that, it was the reverse, and the time before both of those checks, they were playing tic-tac-toe in Janis’ sketchbook. She knows it was Janis’ because Janis has a much larger sketchbook than Regina. Her art is big and colorful and loud, and Regina’s tends to lean smaller, more fine lines and gentle swoops of her pencil.
Joan goes back to making dinner. It occupies her mind, and she doesn’t want to tell the girls to come inside if she doesn’t have to. They know where food is, they have their water bottles (Regina ran back in for them maybe ten minutes after they initially went out), they’re in Joan’s line of sight, and even if they weren’t, they’re in a gated backyard, and they’re not doing anything dangerous. They don’t even really have a curfew since Janis is sleeping over.
They are just in the backyard.
Joan wonders what they’re talking about, because she’s pretty sure that they haven’t stopped talking in the time they’ve been out there. Maybe they’re talking about middle school; they start in a couple of weeks. Their schedules came out this past Thursday, and they have some similar classes, but not all of them together. They could make new friends. Expand their group somehow, even though they’ve always been a two-person unit.
Maybe they’re talking about their art. Maybe about their siblings, since they both have siblings that speak now. (Regina’s been complaining about Kylie calling her Wedgie for a week now.)
There comes a point where she does have to disturb their peace and tell them that dinner’s ready - chicken parmesan, at Regina’s request - and while Joan was expecting pushback, the girls come up the porch steps and into the house without complaints. She doesn’t miss the fact that they leave the blanket outside, though.
It’s not surprising when they ask if they can go back outside after dinner. It’s getting dark now, enough that the lights on the street have turned on, but Joan just tells them to bring bug spray. She never comes closer to kicking Regina out of the house than when she’s covered in bug bites. One would think the girl is dying.
Janis mentions something about her dad teaching her the constellations. Regina adds that there’s an app for finding them, and she downloaded it on her phone this morning. Joan wonders how long they’ve been talking about this.
It’s after she’s cleaned up dinner that she checks on them again, bearing her camera this time. She steps out on to the porch, half-expecting to be acknowledged when she pushes the sliding door open, but neither girl flinches.
They’re laid out on their blanket, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, giggling and whispering to each other. They’re smiling. Janis must’ve braided Regina’s hair. Janis points to the stars like she can see something. She guides Regina’s gaze by using Regina’s hand and guiding it gently.
Joan hopes they’ll want a reminder of this in the future as she takes a couple of photos, and slips back inside of the house.
She also hopes that middle school doesn’t tear them apart.
day twelve - she’ll be okay
As the night winds to a close, Joan tries to make herself busy by at least throwing out the paper plates that they ate pizza on, but Christopher’s concerned look is making even that feel impossible.
She’s not helpless, she swears. She’s just old. And sick. But those things don’t exclude her from being able to throw out paper plates.
“Christopher, I swear to god, if you don’t let me get my own glass of water, I’m making you spend the night with June,” Joan hisses at one point, making her son step back entirely.
“Sorry, Mom,” he says sheepishly. “I just want to help.”
“And I appreciate it, but I still have my autonomy and I’d like to hold on to that for as long as possible,” Joan retorts, not refusing the extra assistance of Christopher letting her hold on to his arm as they make their way into the kitchen.
Regina, Janis, and Kylie are in there already, sitting at the kitchen table and deciding on nail polish colors. Her heart warms at the sight, knowing Regina and Janis will take care of Kylie no matter what, but it also hurts to know that she can’t do that. Her hands won’t stop shaking these days, and she used to love painting Regina and Kylie’s nails when they were little.
But now, Janis seems to be commandeering the ship, rambling on about color theory and what colors would look best with Kylie’s favorite shirt. Regina hasn’t moved from her side once the entire night, and Joan feels content knowing that she’s now seen what her granddaughter being in love looks like.
Yes, she knows they haven’t said it yet, and Regina hasn’t even confessed it, but she knows. There is no other way to read the look that Regina gives that girl.
She grabs her camera from the spot by the microwave.
“Girls,” she gets their attention and holds the camera up. “Smile.”
They do as asked, and Regina even tugs Janis into her side in the same way she did when they were kids. Joan takes an extra photo for insurance, and Kylie sticks her tongue out before anyone can stop her.
“Nana, do you want a hand getting upstairs?” Regina offers once the camera’s put back down and Joan’s filled up her water cup.
“No, Reggie, I’m okay,” Joan brushes her off and pats Christopher’s arm. “Your Dad’s got me. Have fun, girls. Don’t stay up too late.”
“You sure?”
“I am sure,” Joan insists firmly. “Spend time with your girlfriend and sister. I will be fine. Don’t worry about me. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Regina says softly, but Joan can hear the uncertainty in her tone.
“Love you girls,” Joan calls back to them anyway, earning a chorus back of goodnights and I love yous from them. She’s pretty sure even Janis says it.
Joan has never wanted to leave Regina behind. She always knew she would eventually, but she’s never wanted to. She wants to be at Regina’s graduation from college and her wedding and she wants to watch her come into her own even more than she has.
But, she also knows, watching the way Janis takes care of her and she takes care of Janis, and how much she loves Kylie, and how much Christopher has stepped up, that Regina will be okay.
She’ll be okay. And Joan knows that she’ll hear about the adventures, even if she isn’t around to see all of them.