The early morning air was crisp, and a blanket of snow glittered under the streetlights like diamond dust, bringing a sense of winter to the scene for the first time that year. I stood outside, taking in the cold, and lit a cigarette to ward off the chill. The snowflakes were beautiful, spinning and twirling in the light.
Holiday season was nearly upon us, a reminder that half of the school year had already passed. Though I disliked the cold, I could not deny the beauty of the moment. I started the day with excitement, scurrying around the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as I could.
But when I heard the door creak open at the end of the corridor, my spirits lifted even higher. A drowsy little boy emerged from the darkness of his room, wobbling down the corridor, his tiny hands blinking the sleep away from his eyes. His golden locks were a tangled mess, his t-shirt slightly askew, his eyes barely locking onto me as he gave me a rather large yawn.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." I knelt in front of him, fixing his shirt. "Did I wake you?"
His head shook slowly in response, and it was clear he had only just woken up, his eyelids heavy and his awareness still foggy. He then opened his arms and looped them around my neck. We stayed like that for a few moments, and I had to resist the strong urge to hug him tightly. I had to admit, he was growing on me a little too much.
I took his hand in mine and led him to the window. And as soon as I opened the curtains, every ounce of sleep left him. His eyes lit up with the purest joy, the kind only children can express, his mouth forming a radiant grin.
"Snow," he whispered in awe before looking up at me. "Can we go outside?"
"I don't know if we should, kiddo. Maybe when you go to school, okay?" I suggested, to which he nodded. But a part of me wanted to give that little boy everything his heart desired. "Or maybe we can go on the balcony?"
The brightness that came onto his face was like the sun rising, brightening the room with its cheerful glow as he ran to the front door and grabbed his jacket. I helped him with the boots and gloves, and, holding his hand, opened the balcony door for the winter air to greet us.
The darkness of the balcony was broken only by the shimmering snowflakes that fluttered from the sky, their chilly kisses melting on my face. Benji's eyes were alight with joy as he stretched out his little hand, determined to catch the snowflakes as they fell.
With a gentle lift, I helped him to reach further, his small but heavy body cradled securely in my arms. He sparkled with delight as he blew a warm breath on the snowflakes, watching with wonder as they melted away in his grasp.
His love for the beauty of nature was palpable, and I prayed that life would continue to nurture that sense in him, keeping him as wholesome as he was. He was a sweet and gentle child. For him, happiness was simple. It was in his mom's hugs, it was in the rain and in the snow, in every bird, in every little animal, and in every small thing. What I'd give to see the world from his eyes for he was such an innocent little soul.
When I saw the tip of Benji's nose turn a delicate shade of pink, I knew it was time to head indoors. "So, breakfast?" I said, rushing him inside. "What do you want?"
His blue eyes flitted around thoughtfully before a mischievous grin spread across his adorable face. "Candy?"
I chuckled heartily, shaking my head in mock disapproval. "I'm not your mom, but I do have some common sense."
He snickered. "Ice cream?"
I gave him an exasperated look but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "One last chance."
"Pancakes?"
"Pancakes it is."
As I hastily set to work, Benji stood by my side, watching my every move with keen interest as he waited for his breakfast. I let him crack the eggs, and he seemed to take great pleasure in the small chore.
During the days I'd spent with her, Alex had been the one to make breakfast, and part of me savored the rare opportunity. I'd been cooking for myself ever since I was around thirteen. Olivia just ordered takeout, but I believe that to be a huge waste of money.
"Do you know if your mom likes pancakes?" I glanced over at Benji as I poured the sparkling batter into the sizzling pan, but all he did was shrug. "Maybe you know what she really likes?"
He grimaced. "Oatmeal."
My mouth fell open in mock disbelief. "Looks like someone doesn't."
"It's disgusting," he answered matter-of-factly. "And it looks like slime."
His response made us both laugh, and I felt a lightness in my heart that I hadn't expected. We went on talking while I watched the food cook, discussing our favorite flavors for ice cream and debating the best toppings for waffles. Sometimes, it didn't feel like I was talking to a little kid.
I had noticed so many everyday things about both of them, and about Alex—how she liked her coffee, what books she read, and what their mornings, days, and evenings generally looked like. I had always found fascination in observing the little details that make up an individual, and those two never failed to mesmerize me. And it was only then that my attention was drawn to the paintings that hung around the room.
At first glance, they came off as abstract—swirls of color and brushstrokes that took on a life of their own. But upon closer inspection, there were elements of realism woven meticulously into them, creating patterns that slowly revealed familiar forms and structures. The choice of colors seemed both chaotic and controlled, a particular mood to it. It was a balance that echoed the apartment's aesthetic—modern, yet cozy and vintage, spacious yet filled with personality.
My eyes traced over the contours of the brushstrokes, and an idea began to formulate in my mind as I noticed the similarities between them all. Notably, there was an emotion that ran consistently through the pieces—a sense of calm interspersed with moments of intense passion or contemplation. And those two initials at the bottom corner—AM—seemed less like a random discovery and more like a signature I should have recognized earlier. Etched years prior.
I turned to Benji, who was seated on the couch and eagerly awaiting his morning meal. "Did your mom paint this?"
He immediately leapt to his feet, nodding excitedly as he gestured to one of the three smaller paintings. "And that one is mine!"
All of them were abstract, but the middle one stood out as a childlike work of art, signed AM & BM, yet with some carefully and thoughtfully crafted elements. I couldn't resist admiring the artwork. I was taken aback. I had seen Alex's sketches and doodles, and her drawings years prior. But I'd had no idea that she was a painter, let alone one with such remarkable talent. Seeing them felt like being privy to a part of her that she didn't often reveal. It felt deeply personal.
I hoisted Benji up onto the counter, hoping for my back to survive the morning, and he grinned in anticipation as I passed him the spatula. His eyes sparkled with delight, as if he was being granted some great privilege, and I couldn't help but smile in return. He took to flipping the pancakes like a duck to water, and I knew he had done this before. As he busied himself, I prepared a pot of coffee, the sweet aroma of the brewing beans filling the kitchen.
Almost like she had known that food was ready, Alex slowly opened her bedroom door, her sleepy figure emerging from the shadows. Her plaid pajama pants and loose sweatshirt moved in a comforting rhythm as she made her way towards us, her hair a wild and tousled mess. A contented yawn escaped her lips, and I found myself utterly transfixed by her, captivated by her gentle beauty. Even in her sleepy state, there was something about her that was undeniably charming.
Her smile widened with each languid step she took. "Good morning. What's going on here?"
When our eyes met, I realized that my gaze had not gone unnoticed. She imitated me, inspecting me from head to toe with a knowing smirk before rolling her eyes and looking at Benji who sprang from the counter and scuttled over to her.
"It's snowing," he cried out, brandishing the spatula like a sword. "We went outside and caught snowflakes!"
Her eyes softened and a smile crept across her face, a reflection of Benji's infectious joy. She looked up at me, our gaze lingering between us for a few seconds before she broke the silence. "That's great, honey," she said, turning to the fluffy pancakes. "And Kayla's spoiling you, isn't she?"
"I cracked the eggs and flipped them!"
"Did you? Eat, honey, or they'll get cold."
Alex handed me the spatula that she had taken from Benji and poured herself a coffee. I watched as she took a sip, hoping that she would like it. She smiled and clasped the mug like she was warming up her hands.
But when she spotted the bowl of oatmeal and fruit on the other counter, she turned to me with a pout. "You didn't have to do this."
Refusing to listen to nonsense, I shook my head and stuffed a pancake in my mouth. "Shut up and eat."
She sat next to me with a sweet smile. "Looks like it's not just Benji that you're spoiling."
After breakfast, I once again put together an outfit from Alex's closet and strolled to the bathroom to get changed. Even though she assured me it was no big deal, part of me felt a twinge of guilt for wearing her clothes again, so I tried to figure out how to get some clothes from the apartment. Olivia hadn't been in school all week, and I was starting to grow a little worried.
Brushing my hair, I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing only the pants I had just slipped on, inspecting the reflection that gazed back. Though I had never sought to be conventionally attractive, I found that I had a certain charm. There was an air of confidence that radiated from my freckled face, at least that morning. I knew I was far from being someone who put effort into looking pretty when it came to my face. I didn't wear makeup daily, since it made my eyes itch, and often hacked off my hair with kitchen scissors whenever I felt like it wasn't how it was supposed to be. My hair was usually left to fall freely in an effortless cascade or braided in the front due to my own incompetence at doing anything else with it except the most basic things. The ends of my fringe were often left uneven and jagged. My breasts were perky and cute.
Despite my occasional emotional self-loathing, I had always embraced the physical skin I was in, ever since I was a small child. My parents had instilled in me a sense of self-love and acceptance that was still there all those years later. I never felt the need to conform to any beauty standards or to succumb to the expectations of others, since I was happy with my appearance in its most basic, unadorned form. Contentment was found in simple cleanliness.
I stood amidst the soft white haze of the morning light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, caught in the somewhat awkward act of slipping on my second sock, when the door swung open. A bit startled, I looked up to find Alex walking in like she hadn't thought I'd be there. And as soon as she took in the sight of me and my semi-clad state, both her smile and her gaze dropped to the floor.
"Oh, shit," she breathed, quickly turning around. "Sorry for barging in like that. Uh, why did I come here? Oh, can you just pass me that brush on the sink?"
I couldn't help but laugh at her reaction as I handed it to her. "I have nothing to hide, Alex. And it's not like you haven't seen breasts before."
"Yeah, but not yours."
"Now you have."
She laughed out loud, her footsteps receding from the door. I hastily slipped on the rest of my clothes and hastened after her, joining her in the kitchen.
"Sorry. I'm not used to locking doors in the mornings," I said, watching as she shook her head with a smile on her face, staring down at the counter. "Was that weird? I'm sorry if it was."
"Guess not." She shrugged. "Not the first ones I've seen."
I smirked as I leaned against the counter. "Did you like the piercings?"
The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to mask her amusement, her gaze finally lifting to meet mine. "I used to have those too," she murmured before turning away, heading off to fetch Benji.
My throat was tight as I stood frozen. "I think it would only be fair if you showed me yours now!"
"Dream on," she said with a loud scoff before leaving me in silence.
I didn't feel vulnerable, or embarrassed. Such moments with Alex felt innocent, devoid of any awkwardness. We had known each other for too long. Those moments simply bridged our past to our present, a reminder of how far we had come. And I could only hope she felt the same.
As the day wore on and morning hours faded into the afternoon, the weight of school responsibilities pressed on. Lately, school had become more tiresome, the hours and days of laborious study having taken their toll. But as the final day of school before winter break had arrived, my efforts had been rewarded with good grades and a newfound sense of calm and control. Mostly everything was great.
I was at the cusp of freedom, just detention standing between me and the break since PE wasn't happening today. And Alex was surprisingly lenient today and allowed us to do whatever we wanted.
Having nothing better to do, I just looked at her. I noticed how still but yet so very expressive she was. Her gaze was fixed on her computer screen, her fingers tapping against the desk in an unconscious rhythm, her head tilted slightly to one side, her lips pursed in deep concentration. She was so engrossed in work that she seemed unaware of my rapt attention, staring at her from my place just a few feet away.
After the bell resounded throughout the classroom, I stepped outside for a quick cigarette, but on my way back to the school building, I nearly collided with someone when I pushed the door open. My heart sank at the sight of Sophia's golden-brown eyes and her magnificent curls. It seemed as if I couldn't take a step today without encountering her presence. She was everywhere, a constant presence that I could not seem to shake off.
I felt a heavy weight of guilt and sorrow pressing down on me as I contemplated the difficult decision I had to make. It seemed like no matter which choice I decided on, I would end up hurting someone, either Sophia or Olivia. Choosing between two of my friends was the last thing I wanted to do.
Though this semester has been a trying one, Sophia had been one of the few people who had made it bearable. She had always been quick to lend a helping hand whenever I needed it, she had re-awakened my enthusiasm for being on stage, and had always helped me out of situations with her rationality and intelligence. Now, as I watched her move on without me, I keenly felt the loss of our friendship.
Every day, I would see her strolling through the hallways with a group of people, always laughing and having a good time. I could feel her gaze on me in class, only to flit away as soon as I turned around. I could sense her watching me as I walked past. Every night before bed, my thoughts would drift to how much I missed our jam sessions, missed the feeling of my fingers dancing along the guitar strings, creating a unique melody that we shared.
Without even thinking about it for too long, I rushed back out of the school, the soles of my boots slapping against the pavement as I sprinted. I called out for Sophia, wanting desperately to speak with her. Despite the tension that hung heavy in the air between us, I could not let her go without at least attempting to make amends.
She paused in her stride, hesitating before turning to face me. Her gaze was heavy, her expression pained; yet I could not help but feel that there was still something between us, a lingering empathy that burned like a faint ember. I hated arguing, but this type of arguing was the worst one—the one where you don't talk, but you still keep stealing looks at each other, knowing that none of you are enjoying this.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice weary and strained.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I attempted to gather the courage to speak. "I miss you."
The hard exterior she had built around her softened and I could see the emotions swimming in her hazel eyes. "You know I miss you too," she said with a sigh. "But I can't do this anymore."
"Do what? Soph, we were so good together."
The silence stretched between us, and I could almost feel her internal struggle before she finally spoke. "You need help, Kayla. And I'm not the one who can give it to you."
"I feel good," I told the truth. "I really do."
"Please, stop lying to yourself. It'll mess you up even more in the long run."
I tried to ignore her words, clinging to the fragile happiness I'd been feeling for weeks, desperate for her to understand the truth. "I'm not lying."
Her expression was one of disbelief, to which I nodded again. There was a certain happiness in all the little things I had been experiencing lately. Even with all that was going on, I had managed to find a somewhat solid footing with Alex.
She sighed. "But are you off whatever it was you were on?"
I was taken aback by her question, my mind spinning with the implications it held. Every muscle in my body was tensed, my heart pounding with guilt, my face burning with shame and regret. I knew she cared, and that was the part that hurt the most. I could tell she could see right through me, my silence speaking volumes.
Her gaze held disappointment and concern. "Can't you see what's wrong with that?"
"I don't know, Soph. I really don't know, okay?" I said, anxiety surging through me. "It just feels like something is missing if I don't take the pills. Like part of me is gone. Is that so wrong of me?"
"I think part of you is gone when you do take them. You look dead inside when you mix that shit."
"It was only once or twice," I offered in my defense, even though I knew it was a weak excuse. "And I could stop if I wanted to."
"Kayla, you cannot control yourself for the life of you."
"I know I have my problems," I said, my voice growing defensive, "but it's not that serious."
"I have responsibilities I have to get to," she said, her gaze shifting to her phone. "But if that's really how you feel, then fine. I can't help you if you don't want help. Just... just be careful."
As Sophia walked away from me, my emotions roiled within me. The world had a way of categorizing people, shoving them into neat little boxes. I had grown weary of the constant chorus of voices around me, always chiming in with their opinions and judgements. To them, the line between usage and abuse was clear-cut, without shades of grey. To me, that line was blurred.
Substances made all the difference for me. It wasn't about chasing a high. It helped with the paralyzing anxiety that gripped me even in the most ordinary moments, with the restless nights spent tossing and turning, with focus, with everything. Wanting to feel as a functioning human did not make me a drug abuser. It made me somebody that was trying to take back control of all the things life had put in my way.
Yes, I felt guilty. Not for finding solace in substances, but for allowing others to peek behind the curtain. I never wanted anyone to know. Not because it was a dirty secret, but because it felt like I was putting myself on display and making it weird. It was intensely personal. The last thing I wanted was the weight of their pity or disapproval on top of everything else I was already grappling with.
My contemplation lingered as I navigated the school halls, the weight of my thoughts echoing with each step. Pushing open the door, I stepped back into Alex's classroom after the break. Her gaze shifted from her computer screen, her lips curling into a warm smile.
"Hi, Kay," she said, her sweet voice offering a touch of solace.
"What are you working on?" I asked, recalling her single-minded focus from the last two periods.
She gave me a nonchalant shrug. "Just some work stuff."
Intrigue wrapped itself around me as I approached her, and I knew that I had to satisfy my curiosity. I walked up behind her and leaned down, peered over her shoulder. I couldn't help but laugh as I saw that she was playing Solitaire.
"That's why you were so merciful today," I joked.
Acting embarrassed, she averted her gaze to her desk. "I might or might not have been procrastinating for like two hours."
"Can't blame you." I groaned, plopping into my seat in front of her and pulling my sweater off. "Why is it so hot here today? I swear I'm about to pass out."
"You better not. I'm not in the mood to carry you to the nurse."
I scoffed. "Like you could carry me."
She fixed me with an arched eyebrow. "Don't underestimate me."
"I really want to say something inappropriate, but my mind is melting," I muttered. "How are you not sweating your ass off? Do you even own a single t-shirt?"
She shot me a strange glance, her expression unreadable. I couldn't tell if it was a smirk or something else entirely. In that moment, I wished I hadn't said anything. I was all too familiar with the desire to keep secrets hidden beneath layers of clothing, and I had spent years masking my own with long sleeves before I accepted it. There was no way of knowing what someone else was going through.
I shook my head, attempting to change the subject. "So, what will you do during the break? I could always go somewhere else for Christmas, if I'm being a nuisance."
"Stop talking nonsense," she said with a sharp laugh. "Do you have any plans for Christmas?"
"Olivia usually brings me to some party, but given the situation this year, looks like that won't be happening."
"Every year, there's a small get-together at the apartment," she said, her voice a little nervous. "If you're okay with that, you're welcome to join. I feel like I've known you for years, Kay. I kind of have, but, uh, you know what I mean. You're welcome to stay at the apartment for as long as you need, and I'd love for you to be there for Christmas too. Even Benji asked me if you're joining, so I guess you have to."
Alex's nervousness was endearingly sweet, and her words stirred within me a passionate warmth. It had been years since I had celebrated Christmas, meaning that I hadn't drowned myself in alcohol, and the thought of celebrating it with her filled me with delightful elation. It had always been my most beloved holiday since I was a child.
I really enjoyed Alex's company. It was an odd sensation, as if no time had passed since we'd last been friends. I was usually an independent person who enjoyed her alone time, but there was something about Alex. The longer I spent in her presence, the more I found myself growing attached. She had a way of pulling people in.
"I would love to," I said. "Is your family going to be there? I don't want to bother anyone."
"Just Gabi and her husband. And hasn't it been obvious that she likes you?"
I smiled. "Then I'll be there."
"Oh, but don't worry about presents. We usually get something for Benji, and that's it. Christmas isn't exactly my favorite."
"Damn. Grinch."
Alex started gathering her things. "It's the last day. You can go."
I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face. "Oh, Miss Martin, you're letting me off early? What's gotten into you?"
Something about what I said to her seemed to have intimidated or amused her. She narrowed her eyes at me in mock annoyance, her lips twitching with a smile. "I can always take out the Physics textbook."
I sprang from my chair, eliciting a chuckle from her. "Thought so," she said with a smirk. "Are you coming with?"
"Actually, I was thinking about stopping at Olivia's. I don't feel like I'm ready to talk to her yet, but I should check up on her and get some of my stuff while I'm at it. That underwear I bought is awfully uncomfortable. Unless you enjoy seeing me in your clothes?"
"I enjoy seeing what you can do with them. It's giving me some ideas." She gave me a sly smile as she stared me down from head to toe. "And you better go get what you need, because I'm not comfortable enough to start sharing my underwear too."
I laughed. "Your boobs are way bigger anyway. Your bras wouldn't fit me."
She gave me a pointed look and made a funny face. "Uncalled for."
"That was just a counterargument!" I defended myself, my gaze inadvertently traveling down to her chest that revealed absolutely nothing. "Didn't you see mine today? I think it's obvious."
"Get out. And my eyes are up here." Alex chuckled, pushing me out the door and glancing around the empty hallway. "Here's the key. We'll be back in like an hour."
Smirking to myself, with my footsteps echoing through the halls, I made my way to the apartment. When I arrived and knocked on the door, I couldn't help but notice the eerie silence that seemed to radiate from the other side. Undeterred, I fumbled with the key and unlocked the door, cautiously peering inside.
The apartment was empty, not a soul in sight. I strode resolutely towards my room, the urgency of the situation spurring me on. I rummaged through my closet and filled two tote bags with clothes, picking up another plastic baggie of pills I had stashed away, seeing how I was slowly running out.
On my way out, I noticed a faint glimmer of light emanating from Olivia's room. I couldn't help but investigate, and as I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the sight of her, lying on the bed with eyes half shut.
"Oh, it's you," she said quietly, her voice raspy.
"I came to get some stuff," I explained, holding up my bags. "You okay? Is it the cold you get every year?"
"Yeah, just sick."
"Okay then." I gave her a slight smile. "I'll stay at a friend's place for a bit longer."
"Yeah, do that," she muttered. "I'm still mad at you and Sophia. Just give me some time."
I nodded before saying goodbye and leaving her there. I locked the apartment back up and ambled to the grocery store. There, I picked up some chicken soup, some tea, juice, vitamins, and the cookies I knew Olivia liked, and strolled back, my arms aching from the weight of my bags.
I placed the bag on the kitchen countertop, a silent offering. No matter how much we argued, Olivia was still my best friend, and I loved her with all of my heart.