I didn’t finish as my chest cinched taut. One of the women in line had turned. It was Mel. Our eyes met.
She froze. Then—“Hi.”
Her voice was barely above the truck’s soft music.
“Hi,” I said back. “Turns out we’re thinking alike today.”
She looked away. “Yeah… hanging out with my sister.”
Her hair hung over one shoulder in a loose braid, the kind you’d do in a rearview mirror, with a white tee tucked casually into soft-wash jeans rolled at the ankle and paired with worn sneakers. Saturday casual never looked better.
Cassy tugged at my hand. “I want chocolate! That one!”
I glanced back at Mel, and she looked at Cassy. A flicker of a smile touched her lips, not the warm kind I remembered from Alberta. This one was polite, no more than that.
“Say hello, Cassy,” I said, motioning toward Mel, happy my niece was a bridge in this surprising moment.
“Hello,” Cassy said, pushing her hair out of her face. Her braids were loose now, strands falling over her cheeks.
“Hi, Cassy,” Mel said. “Nice to meet you. You had a fun afternoon?”
Cassy smiled. “We went skating today. I stood in the middle by myself, and Uncle Sean took my picture with Pitou.”
Mel paused, her polite smile turning to surprise. Then, slowly, her shoulders dropped as if a heavy weight had finally let go of her spine. It was the first real movement I’d seen since she’d turned.
“Did you?” she asked.
“Her penguin watched her. Big day,” I added.
“Yeah, Pitou was happy.” Cassy clutched her stuffed animal tighter.
“Sounds fun,” Mel replied, a small chuckle bubbling up.
Then the line moved forward, and Mel stepped up to order.
I moved and stood beside her. “It’s on me.”
She blinked. “I was going to get two. Another for my sister.”
“I got both,” I said again, before she could out-stubborn me in public.
She looked at me then, really looked, a question hanging in the air, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she glanced at Cassy. “What flavor are you getting?”
“Chocolate!” Cassy declared excitedly.
“For us, vanilla and strawberry,” Mel said.
“I want strawberries too,” Cassy added, bouncing a little.
We chuckled, the initial awkwardness breaking.
Her smile was for Cassy, but it landed square in my chest. I’d missed that version of her—free, unguarded. The one I’d barely gotten to know.
Cones perched upside down on top of cups—less mess, more genius—we stepped away from the truck.
“Mel?” A woman approached slowly, taking in the scene.
“Sam! Hey—this is Sean. Sean, my sister.”
