“Yes,” I answer, grateful for the distraction.
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“With six nieces and nephews, we have a lot of parties throughout the year. How about you? Big family parties?”
She swallows a mouthful of cake. “It’s mostly just me and my mom. For birthdays, we usually order takeout and watch movies. It’s cozy. A lot less chaotic than… this.” She gestures with her fork toward the lawn, where kids race across the grass, shrieking. “But this is fun too.”
“This one’s probably my favorite yet.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, and I mean it. Not because of the party, or my family, or even the cake.
Nora leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “So what’s with all the random facts? I’ve been here for an hour, and you haven’t said a single one.”
“To be fair, Melanie already warned me not to ask anyone if they know why flamingos are pink.”
She laughs. “Oh! I know this one. Their diet.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
She shimmies her shoulders, grinning. “Look who’s the smart one now.”
“I don’t do it on purpose.”
Her brows lift in disbelief. “You absolutely do.”
I exhale and rub my palms against my thighs beneath the table. “It happens more when I’m nervous. Usually around big groups. People I don’t know. Or… both.” I shrug. “It’s like my brain goes into overdrive and grabs onto something concrete. A topic. A fact. Anything to stay anchored.”
Nora nods slowly. “So your coping mechanism is… random facts.”
“They’re not random.”
Her smile turns amused. “They are.”
“They’re just… facts.” The distinction is important, even if it sounds ridiculous out loud. “Useful ones.”
“Mm-hmm. If I’m ever on Jeopardy, I’m betting everything on the flamingo question.”
Out of nowhere, my niece, Carmen, plops down beside me. “Uncle Miles, you need a tiara.” She immediately digs through her bag before triumphantly pulling one out and placing the pink plastic on my head.
“Oh. Maybe Nora should wear it instead,” I say, glancing over to her.
“Uncle Miles, you have to wear it,” she insists, completely serious.
“Oh. Okay,” I concede. “But do you have another one for Nora? So she’s not left out.”
She gasps as if this is the best idea she’s ever heard and rummages through her bag again until she finds a second tiara, this one purple. Climbing onto the bench next to Nora, she carefully sets it on her head. “Now you match,” she declares solemnly.
“Thank you,” Nora says, adjusting it until it sits just right.
Carmen flounces off with her bag trailing behind her. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. A comfortable silence settles between us, and for once, my brain isn’t scrambling for something to fill the quiet. But it is aware how good it feels to sit here with her.
I clear my throat. “Where were we? What about you? Any quirks?”
She taps a finger against her lips, pretending to think. “Nope. I’m perfectly normal.”
I stare at her. Because that cannot be true. Nobody is perfectly normal. Anyone who claims to be probably has the biggest secrets to hide, like a basement full of labeled jars. “Really? Nothing?”
“Nope.”
I lean back a little, narrowing my eyes. “Nothing you like or don’t like that’s out of the ordinary?”
