Miss, Do I Know You?

42 - Saturday, June 5

Living with Alex and Benji was pure bliss. Even though our daily routine mostly remained unchanged, monotony was rendered impossible. Though only three moons in bloom, our relationship stood tall and strong, its foundation built on years of friendship, exuding a comforting sense of safety and unwavering steadfastness. It was effortless. Things just worked.

Our trivial arguments, rooted chiefly in how we folded socks differently and the occasional tussle over me constantly stealing her clothes, could always be resolved with kisses and sweet promises to make breakfast. Just after the mere month I had lived there, our two separate sides of the closet had somehow merged into one, likely due to my thieving. I relished in the innocent joy that came with it and the simple pleasures of our co-existence, like when I'd arrive at school and occasionally find her standing in front of the class in my clothes, convinced they were hers.

Though we shared a home, we remained relatively discreet. At the same time, we were anything but. Everyone knew we were childhood friends. In such a small town, familiarity was routine. Our presence was as ordinary as the daily rise and fall of the sun, never questioned, never bordering on suspicion, and seen as family. Alex was well-respected and known to have high professional standards, which may have lent us another layer of protection, but we never relied on it. Especially when hanging with Owen, who had become a mutual friend. I had even gotten to know his kids and done some babysitting, but we were still wary.

Amidst summer, life seemed wonderful. The band had taken a brief hiatus to focus on school, I had the greatest friends, and exams were looming over the horizon that I felt more than ready for. Alex was oftentimes consumed by her mounting workload, so I spent those evenings making dinner, reminding her to relax, doing some housework, playing with Benji, helping him with his schoolwork, and living a simple life. Never before had I considered domesticity to be a source of such boundless joy, but in that home, it was simple.

Returning home from work was always anticipated, for it meant being welcomed into the warm embrace of my two favorite people. But today, a feeling of nervousness crept over me, for this would be the first time Alex's parents visited.

When I entered the apartment, the scene was one of perfect timing. Henrie was greeting Alex with hugs while Lucy stood aside and smiled as if they had arrived right before me. Henrie seemed almost unfamiliar, his figure now meager and fragile, a mere shadow of the man I had seen four fleeting months ago. But despite that, his endearing smile illuminated the room.

"Dad, are you sure you should've come?" Alex spoke with genuine concern etched upon her features. "You don't look so great."

He chuckled. "I may not look as handsome without my beard and hair, but a little white lie wouldn't have hurt."

"Since when do you not like honesty? Not once had I seen you without a beard. It's horrifying."

His laughter picked up, and Lucy joined in with her own chuckle, putting her arm around him. "Don't worry. Toujours aussi beau."

"Now you're just placating me," Henrie muttered as he finally got his boots off. "I had to see for myself where you live and what life you've made, hon. Are these your paintings?"

"Yes, dad. Make yourself at home or whatever I'm supposed to say. Benji played with his best friends all day, but he should be up from his nap soon. I'm making dinner, but I ran out of— ah, right on time." Her smile brightened when her gaze landed on me. "I hope you remember Kayla."

"How could we not?" Henrie smiled as he caught me off guard and pulled me into a hug. "Oh, you smell wonderful. Like coffee and tarte."

"Yeah, I'm straight from work," I said, exchanging smiles with Lucy. "It's nice to see you both again. Outside a hospital this time."