“Oh, wait, is it Miss Olivia Justice?” Silas asked, but of course it was, and the kids would certainly lose their minds when the drag queen appeared.
With a couple of hours until the party was supposed to start, Silas worked quickly, covering the cupcakes in store-bought buttercream.
“Raven hasn’t shown up yet?” Isaiah said after a while.
“No, she got the text, though. But at this point, we don’t need her help,” Silas said casually, but if he were truthful, he’d admit he was relieved she hadn’t come. The last week of interactions between him and Raven had amounted to a series of stilted sentences after another. He didn’t need that on a day like today.
The doorbell rang, and Isaiah abandoned his place at the sink to answer it. Silas barely registered his brother’s departure until he heard her voice.
Moments later, Raven and his brother entered the kitchen, laughing and talking like they were old friends. Silas watched them, frozen.
“What can I do?” Raven asked Isaiah.
“Depends. How do you feel about sprinkles?”
“Positively,” Raven said.
“Then you can wash your hands and be on sprinkle duty next to Silas.”
She finally looked over at Silas, and he barely had time to mentally adjust to her sudden arrival before they were sharing elbow space. Isaiah left to check up on the catering while Silas and Raven worked to find a rhythm decorating together.
“The cupcakes smell good,” she said.
“Brown sugar maple,” he replied.
Their fingers brushed, their shoulders bumped, and each time Raven moved to set aside a platter of fully completed cupcakes, she would lightly press her hand to the center of his back as she passed behind him.
They were brief contacts that didn’t mean anything, but in accumulation, they left him feeling like he was floating.
Soon the house started to grow loud. People were coming in and out of the kitchen, bursting the little bubble that had formed around the two of them.
His niece and nephew ran into the kitchen, dressed and ready for their sixth birthday celebration.
“Uncle Silas!” they called out. He gathered the two in his arms, lifting his nephew—the lighter of the two—in his weaker arm.
“Looking fresh, lil’ man,” Silas said to the boy. “Mags, you look beautiful as always.”
“Zander got into the decorations and cake,” Maggie told him, her Fulani braids hitting him in the face as she animatedly spoke.
“I heard, but we’re taking care of it, so no need to worry at all,” he said, placing them back on their feet.
“Who’s that?” Leon asked in what could barely be considered a whisper as he stealthily pointed to Raven.
“Hi, hi, happy birthday,” Raven said, putting down the cupcakes to address the kids. “I’m Raven, the friendly sprinkle expert. It’s nice to meet you.”
She gave them both solid handshakes like they were equals, and Silas watched as the twins straightened their tiny shoulders as if to merit the respect Raven was showing them.
“I like your dress,” Leon said, dragging his fingers over the frilly fabric of her sleeve.
“Thank you. I think you both look real spiffy,” Raven responded.
“Spiffy?” Maggie said, placing her hand on her hip. “What’s that mean?”
“It means you look good,” Raven said.
Maggie nodded and said the word quietly as if committing it to memory while Leon peeked over at the counter and said, “The cupcakes look really spiffy.”
Raven laughed joyously, and the moment needled a place in Silas’s brain.
