Behind the Mask

Live a Little

My best friend, Juri was the direct opposite of me. She was bubbly, extroverted, and never hesitated to speak her mind. If someone offended her, she put them in their place. She wore her confidence and sassiness like a second skin.

Even the way we dressed was different. While I preferred my matching suits and pants, she was all about comfort, opting for oversized hoodies and ripped jeans. Her hair was black but the tips were dyed a vibrant blue.

We had been best friends since high school and stayed together in college. Even after graduation, we stayed close. While my mom worked, and I applied for jobs, she helped me with Chiho. We supported each other. When my father died, Juri was the first person I called. She came to the hospital and spent the entire night with me.

Sometimes, it felt as though my daughter preferred Juri's company over mine.

"Aunt Juri!" Chiho yelled excitedly, jumping off the sofa and running towards the door as my best friend walked into the house.

"There's my favorite girl!" Juri said, picking Chiho up and spinning her around. Chiho's laughter echoed through the room, her face brightening with joy. "How's my favorite princess doing?"

"Good!"

Juri straightened and turned her attention to me. "And how is the Queen of the castle?"

"Stressed," I answered, rubbing my temples. "Mama got a cold last night and you know how she is, she refuses to sit down and let me take care of her."

"I'm fine," my mother said in a hoarse voice as she walked out of her room, her steps slow and deliberate. "See? I can even walk normally."

Juri gave her a once-over. "You sure can, but you look terrible, Mrs. Wakita. You should really let Ami take care of you."

My mother glared at her, but the effect was lost with her reddened eyes and flushed cheeks.

Juri grinned. Then she set Chiho down gently. "Guess what, Chiho? I brought macaroons!"

"Yay! Macaroons!" Chiho clapped her hands and bounced on her toes.

"I'll go get your soup mama," I said, giving Juri a knowing look before heading to the kitchen.

The kitchen was compact but organized. The countertops were a polished gray. Light-colored wooden cabinets lined the walls, their smooth surfaces gleaming in the gentle morning light that filtered through a small, curtained window above the sink.

I pulled out a bowl from one of the cabinets and filled it with the chicken and miso soup I had prepared earlier. The savory aroma filled the room, making my stomach growl. I opened the fridge and took out a bottle of orange juice, the cold glass chilly against my skin.

"Who was the guy that brought you home yesterday?" my mother asked as she walked into the kitchen, her voice startling me.

My eyes widened and I nearly dropped the bottle. "How do you know about that?"

"Did you think I didn't see you last night?"

"I thought you were asleep," I said, pouring the juice in a cup.

"No, I wasn't," she said. "I saw you on that man's bike, from the window. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Juri peeked into the kitchen, her expression mischievous. "What is this about a boyfriend? You didn't tell me anything about a boyfriend, Ami."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said. "He's someone I was interviewing for a story."

"Ken Sato?"

Once again, I nearly dropped the bottle. I placed it on the counter and gripped the edge, turning at her. "How do you know that?"