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 and though our relationship was only three moons in bloom, it had a comforting sense of safety to it. Things just worked.

Our trivial arguments, rooted mostly in how we folded socks differently (hers took two times longer to unfold!) and the occasional tussle over me constantly stealing her clothes, could always be resolved with kisses and 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, and I greatly enjoyed the innocent joy that came with our co-existence. Like when I'd arrive at school and occasionally find her standing there 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 ordinary, never questioned, never bordered on suspicion, and seen as family. It must have helped that Alex was well respected and known to have high professional standards, but we never relied on it, especially when hanging with Owen, who had become a mutual friend of sorts and whose kids I had even babysat a few times. We were partly convinced that he already knew or suspected it, but for all our sakes, it was better left unsaid.

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, helping Benji with his schoolwork, and living a comfortable life. Never before had I considered domesticity to be my thing, but I grew into it with a decent amount of ease.

Returning home from work to my two favorite people was always anticipated. But today, I opened the door with some valid nervousness, knowing that Alex's parents were planning to visit for the first time. And the nervousness only mounted when I saw they had clearly arrived mere seconds ago, crowding the doorway with words I did not understand.

Henrie had Alex in a hug while Lucy stood aside and smiled at me. Henrie seemed almost unfamiliar, two times as fragile, a mere ghost 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 covering her features. "You don't look so great."

He chuckled. "I may not look as handsome without 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, hon. Are these your paintings?"

"Yes, dad. Make yourself at home or whatever I'm supposed to say. Benji played with his 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 she finally spotted me. "I hope you remember Kayla."

"How could we not?" Henrie smiled as he caught me off guard by pulling 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. Outside a hospital this time."

"Are you joining us for dinner?" Lucy asked.

Alex swept up to me and lifted the groceries from my hands. "We live together," she said, giving my temple a fleeting peck. "She's my girlfriend."