I can’t believe I am. Like I’m part of this family.

I know this is a moment I’m going to hold on to for … ever.

Siri and I have written our letters and we’re doing them later, after the movie. We discussed it via text and we don’t want to ruin what’s been a really nice day.

We’re all good and tipsy when Mara pauses the movie during the climactic scene.

“Before we get any further into the wine, and I can’t articulate my thoughts as clearly, I need to give you your present.” Mara gets off the couch and fumbles into the kitchen.

“You already got me an iPhone, Mara,” I call out. I glance over at Siri. She’s lying flat on her back with her feet in my lap. She finally explained that she can only sit bolt upright or flat on her back at this point.

“I love this,” she tells me. Her face is beet red from the wine she insisted she wasn’t going to like. A girl thought she didn’t like wine, but that girl hadn’t tried Moscato.

“I told you you would like MIB 2. No one appreciates this amazing masterpiece.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not Men in Black 2, you weirdo. This.”

“Your gross ballet feet in my lap?”

“My feet are talented,” she slurs.

“Talented and shredded all the same.”

She shakes her head. “I love being a family,” she whispers. “Even if we’re super messed up.”

I squeeze her nasty feet as Mom returns with two big, thin, wrapped rectangles.

“Did you buy me art to go with my iPhone?” I snort.

Mara shakes her head and hands me one of the gifts. Siri takes her feet off my thighs and sits up so I can put it in my lap.

I tear off the wrapping eagerly at first, but I stop when I see my face under the paper I ripped away. I slowly knead off the rest and swallow at the knot rising in my throat.

When Dad and I left, we left without pictures.

I’m holding a framed 8 × 10 of little me and tiny Siri. It’s a close-up on our faces and we’re hugging in our dance recital outfits.

“Thank you, Mara,” I mumble, trying not to get emotional. I’m not as good at silent crying as Siri is. It takes a lot of effort for me, and I’m a little too drunk to really pull it off.

I suck in a watery garble. “What’s the other one?”

Mara pulls the second frame up on her lap, another 8 × 10. “This one’s for me.” She unwraps it so it’s facing her, not Siri and me.