Dedicating Every Day to You

Chapter Forty

The kitchen is a hot and crowded place. I've got my hair scraped back in a ponytail, which is falling apart by the second, and there's music blasting and ingredients everywhere. John and Alex are sitting in their room together, doing who even knows what. Tonight, dinner is up to me, and I'm very happy.

I've made macaroni and cheese (food of the gods), salad, and pineapple upside-down cake. I watched John teach Peggy how to make the cake a few weeks ago, and the result was a cake coated in sugar but noticeably lacking in pineapple slices- Peggy loves pineapple more than anything else.

Singing very horribly along to Journey, I pull the cake out of the oven and bang it out onto a rack to cool. I spin around, setting the table with pirouettes and grand jetes. This is just the way I like it, getting a little time to dance without anyone getting in the way. I move the dishes of macaroni and salad to the table, then make a tiny bowl of kale for Koopa.

"Dad and Dad! Dinner's ready!" I call up the stairs, but after a moment, nothing happens. Sighing, I set down my oven mitts and run up the stairs, then throw open the door to John and Alex's room.

They spring apart when they see me open the door, Alex hastening to fix the buttons on his shirt and John sheepishly putting his hair back up. I borrow a gesture from John and perform a world-class facepalm.

"S-sorry, honey, we didn't hear you calling from downstairs." John's cheeks are flushed behind his freckles.

I untie my apron, swiping a smudge of brown sugar from my nose. "Yeah, I'm sure you didn't."

Alex looks like he doesn't know whether to hide under the bed or laugh. "A-anyway, is dinner ready?"

I snicker. "Yes, dinner is ready. It'll get cold if you don't come down to eat it, though." With that, I turn on my heel and stalk back down the stairs.

After just a moment of waiting, Alex and John come back downstairs, looking suitably presentable once more. I bow before sitting down at the dinner table, pulling Koopa off of the rim of the salad bowl. "Welcome to dinner, as prepared by your daughter."

"This looks delicious, honey!" John takes a seat, squeezing Alex's hand. "Doesn't it, Al?"

Alex nods eagerly. "You did a great job...but what mess level is the kitchen, precisely?"

"Nothing at all...mostly." I scoop some macaroni onto my plate. It really does look gorgeous. I'm very proud of myself.

There's a sharp rap on the door, and I jump up to answer it. Door-answering duty has always been mine. When I pull it open, for a brief second I think I've opened the door onto to a parallel universe. Standing on the front step is a man who could be Alex's mirror image. My jaw drops, and I spend a good five seconds just staring.

"Is this Alexander Hamilton's house?" Not-Alex shifts from foot to foot, looking a little uncomfortable. Now that I'm looking at him closer, I see that he and Alex are more different than I thought. Not-Alex is a little taller, a little thinner to an almost emaciated appearance. He has much shorter hair, too, and it's spattered with more grey.

Alex gets up from the table and walks over to me. "Hey, Kat, who's at the-" His voice falters, and he stands, staring, with one hand pressed against the doorframe. He and Not-Alex look each other over for a moment, before my Alex finally speaks.

"Hello, James. It's been a long time."

"Who's James?" I have a habit of speaking up at all the wrong times, but that's combined with a burning desire to never be left out of anything. Hence, I ask all the wrong questions.