Memory Documentation

chapter six | documenting a war between heart and mind

Still, I couldn't help the creeping paranoia that I'd be sending myself straight into some kind of burning wrath if I walked out of my bedroom. If it weren't for school, I would happily hide in my room for as long as I could. Alas, that's not what my fate had in store for me.

To my surprise, I came into the kitchen to find a different person sitting at the breakfast table, helping herself to a cup of coffee. She was still dressed in her pajamas, and black strands of her hair hung crazily from her lopsided bun. When she saw me, her brown eyes narrowed.

"You!" London started, pointing a finger at me, "You had a boy over last night?"

I gaped at her. Oh, so was Papa not the only one who caught Chris leaving the apartment last night? "How did you know that?" I exclaimed, my voice rising to baffled squeak.

She waved a hand dismissively at my question. "Not important. Point is, you had a b-o-y over and you didn't even tell me you were seeing anyone!" She threw her hands in the air. "Unbelievable. How dare you! I'm hurt, our friendship is hurt, and it's all your fault," she ranted, continuing to flail her arms with every word.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile that pulled at my lips. She could be so dramatic. Trust London to be up at the crack of dawn just to get the early bird special on some hot gossip. Too bad this gossip was ice cold.

"Oh, calm down. I'm not seeing anyone, London," I told her as I took a yogurt from the fridge and came to sit besides her. She instantly took the spoon from my hands and dipped it into the thick, blue liquid, gesturing for me to explain. I rolled my eyes again. "His name is Chris. He's a childhood friend of mine. I told him he could come over any time if he needed me, and last night just happened to be one of those nights. We ended up talking about his breakup and I gave him advice. That's it."

London blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it," I said, shrugging. "Promise. And c'mon, London, I would've told you if I was seeing anyone."

At that, London smiled, but that smile quickly turned into a blatantly suggestive smirk. "I was expecting something a little more juicy than that, but what I'm hearing is" - she nudged me with her elbow and sang - "he's single."

I hit her with a smirk of my own. "Didn't take you for one to have their eyes on high schoolers. No college cuties catching your eye, or are you just bored of them already?" I teased.

She shoved my shoulder. "I meant for you!"

"On the contrary, honey," chimed a new voice. Papa emerged from his bedroom, dressed in burgundy slacks and a polo, and stopped in the kitchen to give London a pointed look. Her cheeks blazed a bright pink, causing Papa to chuckle to himself. I raised a brow, watchful of the conversation they were having with just their expressions. You know the one - the "I know you know that I know" and "don't you dare" exchange you have with someone who's threatening to expose your secret.

There's a lot you can say through a simple look, and I'm sure London was able to read mine pretty clearly when Papa opened his mouth and London blurted a rather defensive, "It's nothing!"

"He hasn't even said anything yet and you're telling me 'it's nothing?'" I asked, leaning back in my chair with my arms crossed. "C'mon. Tell me."

"It's -

"Oh, it's nothing," Papa interrupted, placing a hand on top of my head. "It just turns out you weren't the only one who had a boy over last night."

My cheeks burned at the dig, but then my attention flickered to the last part of that sentence. I gasped - half theatrical and half serious - and the dramatics of it made it sound as if I was coming up for breath after being held underwater.