“Ah! The newbies! Tommy said his brother was in town! What’s the name?”
Joel’s mouth turned into half a smirk at the elation in the voice of the man welcoming them to the Tipsy Bison. “Joel.” He said, motioning his hand that was not occupied with Ellie’s in her direction, “this is Ellie.”
“Joel and Ellie Miller. Nice to meet you folks!”
Ellie’s eyes grew wide. Ellie Miller.
Williams? Miller. Miller? Ellie Williams… Ellie Miller.
The voices of the conversing men were drowned out now, Ellie taken completely captive by her thoughts. Joel’s last name. My last name. Our last name. But… we’re not family. We can’t, can we? It’s his name, it’s not mine. I shouldn’t be called that. I shouldn’t be but I… want to be? Do I? Fuck, of course I do. Official shit? I’d get to be a Miller? Joel’s…
“-lie?”
She was back, her thoughts pushed somewhat back. “Hm?”
He faced her, her hand still in his. “Hey, you okay? You were out of it there for a minute,” he asked, voice unmistakably soft.
“Yup, perfect,” she said, trying to brush it off. It’s a name. Chill.
“Alright,” he said, not pushing it.
The chefs cooked up burgers for them that night and Joel nearly died and went to Heaven having a burger again. Ellie wasn’t as impressed, but seeing Joel eat with the biggest grin on his face and spew some pre-outbreak junk about how delicious a good homemade burger on the grill was made it worth it to her.
But even through dinner, the thoughts in Ellie’s head didn’t leave. They weren’t bad… just curious. Miller. Ellie Miller. It’s just a simple hope. It would never happen; stop making a big deal out of it.
Even after dinner and their walk home, Joel could feel a difference. Silent communication to feeling a difference in them through… the others scent? The way they walk? How their head hung? He couldn’t tell. But there was… something there that was different about her.
They both kicked off their shoes, Ellie moving to the couch immediately to plop into the weary leather.
He asked again. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
He stood by the door, eyebrows raised and hands alarmingly close to sitting on his hips.
She sighed, throwing her head against the back of the couch. “Nothing bad, I swear. Just… some thoughts.”
“Baby, from what I’ve seen, majority of your thoughts are bad.”
“Wow, helpful,” she said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “But you’re right. But I swear, they’re not bad. Just dumb.”
Joel sat on the other end of the couch to face her. He didn’t speak, but he did want to hear from her. Poking and prodding about her dumb thoughts would shut her down. Her dumb thoughts would still overtake her in a number of ways and he wanted her to talk about them, no matter how dumb she said or thought they were.
He sat and waited patiently for her to start.
“What the guy said earlier at dinner.”
“What, specifically?”
She half groaned, annoyed with how such dumb thoughts were making her feel. “When we first got there. You introduced us and he said Joel and Ellie Miller…”
Joel turned his head to the side, a few lightbulbs going off.
“I just… didn’t know how to feel about it, I guess. But, it’s dumb. I’m sure sleeping on it will be fine.”
“Ellie,” he started, cautiously approaching the question, “what was your reaction to it? Did you hate it or was there…”
“Interest,” Ellie continued for him. “Interest, I think? I don’t know, it’s not like I go by Ellie Williams everywhere I go. But… Miller is your name. It’s Tommy’s, it’s Maria’s. It’s not… mine. But…” she trailed off slightly, pulling at her fingers as she glanced up at him. “I kept saying it as my last name in my head and it felt… good, almost. But I’m not a part of the family and using it as my last name seems really official and we’re not official and I’m not related to you guys so it feels wrong to want something when-“
“Hey,” he interrupted, grabbing her hand from across the couch. “My last name does not define whether you’re in the family or not, got it?”
Ellie sniffed and swallowed, forcing the lump in her throat down. “Still… it feels weird.”
“Tell you what,” he grabbed her hand with his other, holding it tight. “We try it on for size for a little while? If you want. There’s a lot of families we haven’t met. Plenty of kids your age, adults my age. They know I’m Tommy’s brother, so they’re going to assume you’re related, too. If you want, when introducing yourself, you can use Miller to see how it sounds.” He smiled at her. Ellie Miller. Fuck, he’d love it. “If you end up hatin’ it, you don’t have to use it. Okay?”
She nodded in agreement, “Okay.” She looked up at him again, noting those familiar creases at the corners of his eyes. “Do you… like how it sounds?”
His smile grew as he brought her enveloped hand up to his lips, adjusting his grip on her so he could kiss her knuckles briefly, the feel of his stubble causing her to reflexively flex her fingers at the feeling. “Course I do,” he said, grabbing hold of her hand again. “But I’m not gonna ask you to use it if you end up hating it.”
She smiled, nodding in understanding. She wouldn’t hate it. It’s his last name. If this is as official as they can get, she wants it.
They stayed on the couch, Ellie eventually changing positions to laying her head on his thigh as he told her Miller Family Stories, per her request. The majority of them were embarrassing stories of Tommy in his youth, stories Joel supposedly was made to swear would never leave the immediate family.
But Ellie was a part of the immediate family now, and she’s definitely going to use her newfound knowledge against her uncle.
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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