Of June

25- Lotsa Ups, Lotsa Downs

For Breanne's birthday three days later, Adam and the band had arranged a surprise lunch gathering at his new convertible apartment in Toronto. Although his friends didn't mind checking into a hotel for their stay, Adam insisted they celebrate at his house- especially since the person credited for preparing the lavish meal is an important 'guest' who he wanted me to meet. Not to brag or anything, but that naturally meant I was invited as well.

Standing at the doorstep of his house with a gift box in my hands, I couldn't help myself but gape around. The elevator ride up to this floor and the walk to this entrance was all spent admiring the chic, cosy interior of the complex. Who would've ever thought I'd be visiting such a fancy place with a bona fide popstar offering to pick me up from home?

I hear the door click open, but I'm too enthralled by the surroundings to divert my attention to the front. When the realisation of my impolite behaviour dawns on me, I quickly turn to face the 'guest' who had opened the door for us.

"Oh my. You're too early, Adam. I haven't even started preparing the table. . ."

Joan first meets eyes with her son, followed by the stunned girl beside him. A long silence provides me- and probably her, too- enough time to unravel the situation and interpret this unexpected reality. All of a sudden the déja vu hits me like a train.

"Mom-" Before Adam could speak anything, Joan's previously curious features develop the subtlest of smiles. She places a gentle palm on the back of my left shoulder, offering me to step inside. I blink twice and follow her suit without any reasoning, propping my umbrella in one corner inside. Adam does the same and later makes sure to lock the door behind us.

The wide hallway I explore through leads up to a caramel parquet flooring that defines half of the place. Inside the living room, with walls painted a mellow dull sage meeting ceilings as white as snow, the sunlit apartment soothes right to the soul. Plant decorations are shelved upon one wall in the living room, few on each side of the huge TV monitor. Pristine, arched windows of colour matching that of the ceilings extend over the adjacent walls. Knick-knacks on deep turquoise tables and other decor items do their best to grant the house an elegant, traditional look.

Dang. Although I was subconsciously aware of Adam being pretty well-off, I hadn't offered much thought to the idea per se. But now, standing right here on this God-knows-how-much expensive piece of flat, it truly becomes impossible to overlook the fact. I scan down my casual fit- a pale cream crochet vest over a white t-shirt coupled with a pair of loose fitting jeans- and doubt its aptness compared to this exquisite place.

As I'm busy gawking around, I feel another pat on my shoulder. I follow the arm to meet with Joan's familiar kind eyes. "I made some pancakes. Would you like to have some?"

I gaze up at her, studying her features properly this time. Her wrinkles twist more distinctly near the corners of her eyes and mouth, and streaks of shiny silver now run across a few locks of her fading brown hairs. A pair of glasses rest on the bridge of her nose, right infront of eyes that shine as sprightly as before.

With a faint, even smile, I nod to her in response.

"Sweet! I'll be right back." She beams brighter before heading out of the room, briefly leaving Adam and I to ourselves.

The moment she departs, questions from the pits of my mind crawl back up to surface. Mostly those regarding her suspiciously composed nature despite everything about my existence not making sense.

"I'm surprised she still remembers." Adam snaps the silence, shoving both hands in pockets. He turns to me with a purse of lips. "Well, that leaves out one extra task for me to do."