Our indelible pasts|✔

three - kiana

LIVING IN A big apartment all by yourself can get really lonely, especially when your friends live in the school residencies that are a whole thirty minute drive away, when traffic isn't too...well, New York. But my neighbor, Mrs Miller, a nice old lady, tries her best to make it better for me. She's quite the baker and makes it a routine to bake me something every week.

This past year that I've been living in New York, I've probably tasted almost every dessert there is in every cuisine. Every Thursday and Sunday, she rings my doorbell at exactly 7pm with whatever it is she's whipped up that day and I always invite her in. We usually have dinner together on those days while talking and sometimes watching TV. It's literally the only routine in my life that I enjoy and absolutely nothing or no one is allowed to interrupt it. Or join it for that matter.

She brought me a chocolate lava cake on my second day here and by the third time she came, she noticed that I rarely had company–well, as much company as a college student typically would have. Since that day she's never stopped coming or checking in on me. I sometimes feel like I fill the void left by the death of her children and that's why she's never stopped. But in a way, she fills a big hole in my heart too. Giving me what I had for only a short period of my life.

Mrs Miller reminds me of my nana, my grandmother on my mom's side. She stayed with us from the moment I was born till I was six–when she passed away. I remember that day vividly. The heart attack happened so suddenly, taking away the person I loved the most in the world right in front of my eyes on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Nana used to tell me that when people die, they come back to the people they love in the form of someone else. I never really believed that, but when I met Mrs Miller who welcomed me so warmly, I started to believe that little tell-tale.

"What do you mean you don't like honey?" Mrs Miller places her hands on her laps in shock.

"It made my stomach hurt once as a kid and since then I haven't taken it." I laugh.

"So it's not even about the taste?"

I pick up the plates from the table to take them to the sink as I scrunch my nose up at the disturbing memory. "Oh no, it was that too."

Turning around to face Mrs Miller, I find her shaking her head. "Just like Ruby." She refers to her late daughter. "She never liked chocolate."

"Now that should be illegal. Chocolate is probably man's greatest creation."

"No, I think it's wine actually." She argues.

Mrs Miller and I continue droning on about what food's the best as I wash the dishes from dinner, finding out that she puts wine in almost all her food.

Shortly after, we walk back to her apartment, bypassing our bickering neighbors. They're some British couple that moved in two months back that argue literally every other day. From what I've picked through constant eavesdropping is that the girl thinks he's cheating on her with his sister's friend, and he thinks she's with him for his money. Those two are reason number two hundred and fifty five–yes, there's an actual list–as to why I should stay single for the rest of my life and be the rich cool aunt to my friend's kids. That honestly sounds like a lot more fun and less work too.

"Make sure you eat some of the pie before you sleep." Mrs Miller smiles at me as we reach her front door.

I laugh. "How can I not? You know I love your apple pies a bit too much."

She shoots me another soft smile at me before unlocking her door. "You just have a sweet tooth. At this rate, just give me all your dental bills to pay. Goodnight now Kiana."

I let out a laugh. "Goodnight Mrs Miller."