The sisters are as rocky as ever and our valiant attempt to intervene did not help much. Delia vented to Reid. Upset that The Monicas did not get invited to Delia’s bat mitzvah, Hannah iced Delia. I tried to talk to her, but mid-conversation, before I could even start to question her about her relationship with The Monicas, she pulled out her phone and opened TikTok. The ultimate dismissal.

Reid sighs. “I cannot explain Hannah’s life choices.”

“She’s twelve. That is the explanation.”

Reid pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s been wearing them more, I notice. “They’ll figure it out. You and Chao will too. You’re lucky to have a person like that.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. Reid flushes and starts playing matching games on his phone. I try listening to a podcast for the rest of the ride, but I can’t focus. I guess I never really thought about it, what Reid said. I mean, he has plenty of friends. At school, he’s with The First Chairs. And the underclassmen look up to him. He’s their fearless leader.

Reid has his instrument. Reid has lessons with Dad.

Reid has a competitor-turned-temporary-collaborator. Me.

But he’s never had a person.

Reid taps his knee to the beat of the music for the entire first act and it’s so distracting, but I know, without a doubt, bringing him was the right decision.

Our seats are in the mezzanine, second row, with a perfect view to take in the artistry and choreography of the animal puppets and the set design. The show is incredible. I tear up pretty much the moment the music starts. “The Circle of Life” is an intense emotional experience live, okay! There is so much to take in… but I’m having fun watching Reid. I’ve never seen him so absorbed in a moment. He even sheds a tear when Mufasa dies, and doesn’t try to hide it. Then he dances in his chair during “Hakuna Matata”—when he knows I’m never going to let him live it down. Reid is… having fun?

It’s shocking.

At intermission Reid excuses himself in the name of overpriced M&M’s and I try to reconcile this musical theater–obsessed Reid with the serious clarinet is my life person in my kitchen every morning. I try scrolling through my phone but the service is spotty this high up, so I drop it back into my purse and take a sip of water. The lady sitting next to me makes eye contact and smiles. She’s grandma age and wearing a statement glam necklace.

“How long have you been together?”

I choke on water. Full-on spit up all over my dress.

“We’re not,” I cough.

“Sure, sweets. Sure.”