They took turns. He awoke with the moon and she fell asleep to the sun. Time meant nothing to them.
<<<>>>
“Mom, I have a surprise for you!”
“Se taire!” Aimée shushed Christophe worriedly. “She might be busy!”
“Chris, who’s that?” a woman called, meeting them in the foyer. Aimée hastened to take a step away from Christophe, straightening her posture. Christophe grinned while Aimée just held her hands behind her back, her fingers fidgeting to no end while her teeth gnashed mercilessly on the inside wall of her cheek.
Aimée glanced up shyly at the woman. She shared Christophe’s blonde streaks amidst the same honey brown hair, except her locks were much neater as they fell in soft curls around her face. A dash of flour was across one cheek and more was splashed across her fuzzy pink sweater and jeans. She had a homey feel about her and Aimée felt the desire to just hug the woman.
“Mom, I don’t think you two have officially met,” Christophe said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “But of course, that was sort of impossible up until recently, so I guess I’ll forgive you.”
The woman smiled uncertainly at the teenagers. “I’m sorry dear, I don’t believe I remember seeing you before. Are you one of Chris’ classmates?"
“Uhm, you have seen me,” Aimée stuttered out. “Frequently, actually. But maybe you don’t recognize me when I’m not on a computer screen.”
The lady frowned. “What—“ Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. All of a sudden, Aimée found herself in the hug she had been hoping for, the woman practically pouncing on her and squeezing every other thought out of Aimée.
“You! Sorry I didn’t recognize you, dear, I just would not have guessed that it would actually be you! I’ve always wanted you to come someday, but I never imagined you in our house! Welcome to the U.S., Aimée!”
Aimée wrapped her arms around the hysterical woman. She grinned at Christophe from over his mom’s shoulders. “Thank you, Mrs. Couch.”
The lady reared her head back but still kept her firm grip on Aimée’s shoulders. “I thought I told you the first time not to call me that,” she reprimanded. “Remember, it’s Jenica or Jen.”
Aimée giggled. “I apologize Jen,” she said, smiling sweetly. Her smile faltered slightly. “I am also sorry for coming in so suddenly. I was thinking it may be best to find the nearest hotel room—“
“No!” mother and son both exclaimed. Christophe coughed, tugging on his hair while his mom shook Aimée’s shoulders slightly. “You did not travel halfway around the world to visit my son and stay away from him in some hotel,” Jen ordered strictly. “We have plenty of rooms, don’t you worry about that.”
Aimée smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much. It’s wonderful to finally, officially meet you.”
“The same goes for you, dear! And my, you’re so pretty! You look like a young, European Elizabeth Taylor!” Jen exclaimed. “Are your parents with you?”
Aimée’s smile froze and Christophe stopped running his hand through his hair, frowning at Aimée’s sudden tension. His mother, however, did not seem to notice. “Unfortunately, they are not,” Aimée said apologetically. “Away for work and whatnot.”
“Oh, not a problem,” Jen said, waving her hand. Grabbing Aimée’s hand with the other, she pulled the girl after her into the warm kitchen. “You can tell your parents that we’ll take care you just fine.”
YOU ARE READING
Right At Your Door
Short Story"Nothing ever changes here." To Christophe, this is a curse. To Aimée, this is an invitation. All she knows is change. Tired of the life of travel, Aimée decides to make one final move. She would leave Paris. She would leave Europe. She would meet C...
