Page 3 of Five Things I See in You

Jordan

Wesley opens the door with a thick red marker, uncapped, in his hand.

“You’re late,” he announces. “We’ve already hung the banner,” he adds, pointing with his index finger.

Behind him, the house where Zoe and Tessa live is packed all the way into the kitchen. A huge banner hangs from the living room doorframe, each letter a different color: WELCOME, NOA. The A at the end is squeezed against the edge, because the paper ran out before the letters did.

“It’s really nice, Wes, did you make it?” I ask.

“I made the A,” he clarifies, and takes off down the hallway shouting, “Mom! Jordan’s here!”

Tessa puts a glass in my hand before I even have time to take off my jacket. Zoe passes by with a tray and points to the back of the living room with her chin.

“There she is. She got here five minutes ago. Iris is doing the introductions.”

“How’s it going?”

“She hasn’t let go of her yet, and she doesn’t let her talk either, you know how Iris is.”

And sure enough, Iris is leading the English player around the living room by the arm as if she’s giving her an apartment tour.

“…that’s Tina, she only chews watermelon gum, so don’t take any. Well, if you’re into that, go ahead. I just can’t stand it. This is Zoe, our captain. She seems very serious, but she’s a sweetheart and she’s been on the team forever. You do what she says. By the way, are you sleeping okay? No, right? I can tell just by looking at you. Don’t worry, everybody sleeps terribly the first month and then you never want to leave. Ask the Brazilian. She’ll tell you. Anyway. Now the kids, because Wesley has been waiting all afternoon to meet you.”

Noa says “nice to meet you” for the fourth time in a minute. She smiles at everyone, but her left hand is strangling the strap of her bag. Nobody else seems to notice. I tend to pick up on things like that. Occupational hazard, I guess.

Wesley plants himself in front of her and examines her from head to toe.

“What’s your name?”

“Noa.”

“The one from the banner?” he asks.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Just Noa?”

“Noa Reeves,” she answers.

“Noa Reeves,” Wes repeats very quietly and then goes off to tell Lina.

“Man, he still calls me Iwis and you get the full name, now that’s status,” Iris jokes, reappearing at her side.

Lina comes over a little later, with Wesley as her escort, and explains the house rules to her: where the dirty glasses go, which couch is the one Wesley usually sits on, and that if she wants cake, she should say so now because later there won’t be any left.

“Take care of that wing for me, the one that used to be mine,” Mireya murmurs, unconsciously caressing her belly.

In the kitchen, while I refill my glass, Iris appears at my side and speaks to me in a low voice.

“What do you think of Brit?” she asks.

“Very polite and also very tired.”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. “That’s why I threw the party for her, the rest will come. You do your thing, witch, keep an eye on her, okay? Even if it’s from a distance.”

And she heads back to the living room, calling out that the banner is falling down.

***