Rose
It’s a gorgeous, sunny Saturday mid-afternoon.
The air smells of sugar from the small cotton candy machine and of something deliciously savory drifting through the open kitchen window.
We’re at Lina’s son’s sixth birthday party in their cute single-story home just outside town, with a sprawling backyard currently overrun by twenty shrieking, sugar-fueled five- and six-year-olds.
A bright blue tablecloth covers a long table with snacks, juice boxes, and other party food for the kids and parents to help themselves. A smaller round table is overflowing with brightly colored gifts for Harry, the birthday boy, who bounced up and down in his party hat when Ben handed him the present we’d picked out for him at Lucky’s Toy Store. After that, Harry passed the present to his mom, the two ran off to play with the other kids, and Ben promptly forgot I existed.
Joel had to stop by the fire station to work for a couple of hours, but he’ll be coming later. Murph said last night that he planned to finish renovating a bedroom instead of coming. With all the screaming these kids are doing, he probably foresaw thisnoise and mayhem and noped out to save his eardrums and his sanity.
And Win… well. That’s another story entirely.
Neverin a million years did I expect Win to emerge from the house in a big, brown horse costume. When we arrived, he was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. He said he was heading into the house to use the bathroom but would be right back.
He did not say he would be coming back as a horse.
“Ben, don’t jump on Win’s back like that!” I yell.
“It’s okay,” Win says, his voice muffled by his big brown horse's head. “I didn’t feel a thing.” He rears, and Ben dissolves into giggles, clinging onto Win’s light-brown mane and shrieking with laughter.
“He’s really good with kids,” I say to Lina when she joins me.
She hands me a glass of ginger ale that she went inside to get for me. I take it with a grateful smile. My stomach is too delicate to risk digging into the delicious food, but thankfully, my nausea this morning wasn’t so bad that I threw up.
The parents and Lina’s husband, Frank, have gathered in small groups, chatting among themselves. They were super friendly when I arrived, and her dad, Nico, who catered this party, popped out of the kitchen to hug me hello. We were talking when Win’s sudden appearance in a horse costume drew me toward him in shocked horror. I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my laugh, unsure whether to intervene when he got on all fours, and the kids took it as an invitation to climb on his back. Ben included.
“Win’s the best,” she says with a grin, taking a sip of soda. “Harry’s always demanding to see him. There are times I genuinely think he likes Win more than me.”
I laugh. “I can believe that. He’s Ben’s best friend. How long have you known him?”
“Forever. He’d always wanted to be a cook, but no one would give him a chance. So my dad did.”
“That long?” My gaze returns to the man giving the kids rides on his back.
“He was so bright and positive. I don’t know that I would have gotten over my mom’s death as soon as I did without him. I laughed because he made it his mission to make me smile when all I wanted to do was cry. My dad didn’t have to worry about the diner because Win was always there, volunteering his time, his help, his friendship.”
“But he isn’t your son’s godfather?”
She shakes her head. “I asked him. My husband and I both did. He said we should have someone with more family to look after our son if anything ever happened to us. He’s an orphan, and he saw it as too big a responsibility to accept. Frank and I told him it didn’t matter to us, but it mattered to him.”
My eyes widen. “He has no family?”
“Win lost his parents when he was thirteen. He went into foster care and moved here from Des Moines when he aged out of the system.” She cocks her head. “He didn’t tell you? You guys seem so close, and he’s always been open about what brought him to Rios.”
“No, he didn’t tell me.” I look at Win again. I can’t see his face, but I hear him laughing, even as the kids do everything to destroy his back. “He’s always so positive and cheerful.”
Not that someone who went through heartbreak can’t be positive and cheerful, but it’s hard to imagine Win ever suffered at all. He’s the sunniest person I’ve ever met, always singing as he cooks, no matter how busy it gets, and with a big smile for everyone.
“When he lost the people he loved, it made him look for the positives in life instead of dwelling on what he’d lost. Me, I do the opposite.”
“Me too.” When I lost Simon, I spent so much time thinking about what I lost instead of appreciating what I still had. I never want to make that mistake again.
Nico calls out to Lina from the snack table that he’s busy loading up with more food, and Lina goes to see what he wants. As I sip my ginger ale, my gaze returns to Win, happily playing horse for a bunch of kids.
“You want a go?” Win asks several minutes later, when the kids have run off to get more snacks.
I snort and shake my head. “I’m not getting on your back, Win. I’m too heavy for one.”
