Our Year of Maybe
“I can see the family resemblance” is the first thing I blurt when Chase introduces me to his middle sister, Carlie, who’s home from college, and his youngest sister, Chloe. His oldest sister, Catelyn, lives in Portland with a toddler and a newborn.
Carlie gr
oans. She’s wearing a gray WSU sweatshirt and has Chase’s same golden-brown hair. “Oh, we know.”
Chase’s mom heads over from the kitchen in an apron that says in small letters, AS FAR AS ANYONE KNOWS, WE ARE A NICE, NORMAL FAMILY. “Peter! Welcome. I’m Jess. I’ve got homemade pizza in the oven. You like pizza, right? What kid doesn’t like pizza? If not, I could also make you a sandwich, or some pasta, or—”
“Peter loves pizza!” Chase says, and I have to stifle a laugh, remembering the first day in English class.
“Pizza sounds great,” I confirm.
She grins. “Perfect. Make yourself at home!”
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when Chase invited me over for a game night at his house. When Chase told me his dad passed away, I guess I was expecting a fractured family. A grieving one. But the Cabreras are bright and full of energy.
“I, um, like your apron?” I say to Chase’s mom.
“A Mother’s Day gift from this one,” she says, jabbing at Chase with the spatula. “He thinks he’s so funny.”
“I am. And you love it.” Chase sweeps an arm through the air. “I’ll give you the grand tour. This is the most cynical person to ever have lived.” He pokes his sister.
Carlie swats his arm. “I’m part of the tour? Then this guy”—she runs a hand through his hair, messing it up—“is the nosiest little brother. He texts me basically every day asking about my classes, how the dorm food is, what music I’m listening to . . .”
“Sorry for caring,” Chase says, but I love witnessing this interaction between them. It makes me wish again for a sibling, though I’m pretty sure the time for that has passed.
Chase leads me through the rest of his house, hardwood floors and patterned curtains, family photos and abstract paintings.
He pauses at the end of the second-floor hallway. “This is my room,” he says quietly before he opens the door, letting me in first.
I thought my room was a music room, but wow. Album art covers every inch of the walls. There’s zero white space, making the room feel like a music museum. I spot Led Zeppelin and Heart and Simon & Garfunkel, Depeche Mode and Fleetwood Mac and Queen.
“This is the coolest,” I say as I marvel at all the album covers. It’s a huge compliment, saying you like someone’s room, the one cube of space they have in this world that’s wholly theirs.
“Thanks. Carlie and I did it last summer. I spent months collecting CDs and records until I was sure I had everything I wanted. More than a hundred, at least.”
“Wow. I love it.”
Then I’m momentarily stunned into silence, distracted by the heat of his body behind mine, much closer than normal. His hand grazes my arm as he shifts so we’re side by side.
“The band really likes you,” he says, staring straight ahead at The Dark Side of the Moon. “I’m—we’re—uh, glad you joined.”
I have to bite back a smile. “I like them too.”
“You guys ready?” Chase’s mom calls from downstairs, and I snag one more glance around his room before we join the rest of his family in the living room, where his sisters are deliberating in front of a cabinet overflowing with games.
“What are we playing?” Chase asks, swiping a slice of pizza for me before taking some for himself.
“Taboo!” Chloe announces.
“You always want to play Taboo,” Carlie says with a groan.
“Because it’s the best.”
“I’ve never played it,” I say, and then even Carlie agrees that I must.
We settle onto the couch and chairs, eating our pizza over the coffee table. Chloe is clearly the most competitive, whining when our conversations distract us from the game. Chase and Carlie talk about a recent Marvel movie I haven’t seen, and Jess is eager to regale me with Fun Facts about Chase.
“I like to think his musical talent is genetic,” she says. “I played a little guitar growing up, and Chase’s dad played the drums.”