Chapter 9: An Awkward Morning

“Ahhh!!! What the hell did I just do!!!”

Ash yelled, staring at the girl in the mirror with tangled hair, as if asking herself for an answer.

The blonde girl in the mirror had cheeks burning with a flush that refused to fade. Golden wisps stuck to her temples, a few curls still hazy with sleep. All that fluster made her look a wreck.

At the memory of last night, and of the struggle just moments earlier, Ash’s heart throbbed in her chest.

The whiny begs, the weak grasping. Still half asleep and groggy, her tiredness was replaced by hot embarrassment and frustration.

“… Ugh. What did I just do…”

She mumbled again. Both hands braced on the sink, she leaned in close and pressed her heated cheek against the cool glass mirror.

“How much of a mess must he think I am…”

“I’m so immature…”

Ash chewed on her lower lip. Her right hand, still on the counter, tightened around the smooth ceramic, knuckles whitening.

“…He won’t leave me, will he…”

“I mean… I did step in the way for him…”

“…”

“…Who even falls for those polite nothings anyway.”

She grumbled once more. The clamped fingers slowly opened, and she lifted her hand to switch on the tap.

Under the noisy stream, she kept murmuring:

“Chris is so talented. At least he’d come back like Rambo and bust down the police station for me…”

Ash lifted her left hand, pressed it against the mirror, and shoved her own reflection back.

“Rambo… ‘First Blood’? ‘The Matrix’? When were those even released? What’s going through my head.”

After that last murmur, Ash bent down, filled her hands with cold water, and splashed her face.

Only after washing up and carefully flattening the stubborn strands of hair did Ash head to the dining table.

Chris was waiting for her with a simple, tasty-looking breakfast.

The gentle morning sun drifted through the sheer curtains, spilling over the house. Soft beams tangled in the air, painting a veil of gold over the quiet morning.

A window was open a crack, and a light breeze pushed in fresh, slightly humid air.

Along with the crisp air came a smell of caramel, of milk, and something like pan-seared meat with a touch of char.

‘What’s for breakfast…’

Ash’s thoughts drifted as she neared the table.

“Ash, have a seat. All your old favorites,” Chris said warmly. He stood up, grabbed the milk, and poured it over the oats in front of Ash.

“Thanks…” Ash sat down, a little stiff, and picked up the cutlery uncertainly.

Breakfast looked exactly like before, things she had loved for years.

Caramel pancakes, strips of seared meat, oatmeal full of milk.

She sneaked a look at Chris’s plate instead.

Hot toast, Aunt Mei’s homemade sour plum jam, and fried eggs just right… and he seemed to have started drinking coffee.

A strong, rich smell of coffee beans… Where was it from? Ash couldn’t tell.

At least not the Jamaican beans those scumbags drank.

Chris ate his jam toast in his usual tidy, methodical way.

What about her? Could she just pretend everything was fine, like she always did?

Ash sank again into her own self-flagellating thoughts.

Fork and knife in hand, staring at the pancakes on her plate.

The sun touched half the table, lacquering the syrup-soaked stack with a layer of gold.

The pancakes, already drowning in maple syrup, now almost glowed.

The old radio next to the vase was softly broadcasting the morning show.

The same gruff but cheery voice of Jack was at the mic.

“Good morning, Philly folks! Your old pal Jack Harrison, here with the morning broadcast!”

That familiar voice felt warm amid the stiff silence.

Everything was exactly as it used to be.

“So today is September 9, 2261, a bright, beautiful morning! I hope all of you got up early, poured yourself a cup of hot coffee, and are ready for your challenges!”

“Now, for the forecast. It’ll be a little warmer today, with highs near 75 degrees Fahrenheit, but with that nip of fall. The sun’s still going to put in work, though. Careful, folks, it’s a bit mighty today…”

“…Sunscreen? Probably not needed. Today is overcast, I recall. But for our beauty-focused listeners, better to be ready anyway. Because if a sudden gust blows in a clear sky, well, the sun will pop right back out. Ha-ha!”

“Okay, moving on from the weather. Let’s get to the headlines… First up, President Johnson is expected to arrive in Philadelphia at ten. Expect some road closures and traffic control, friends, especially along Pennsylvania Avenue. I can’t imagine how bad that jam’s going to be…”

“Ash…”

“What is it, Chris?”

Ash asked, cramming half a pancake into her mouth.

“Hey. Take it slow.”

A couple of mouthfuls, and she swallowed.

“Don’t worry… ahem,” she coughed.

“Quick, have some water.”

“Mhm.” Ash bent forward and gulped down the milk beside her.

“Ahhh. I’m alive again.”

“Chew slowly, Ash. Don’t wolf it down like a kid. Show some composure.”

“Haha… It’s just that your pancakes are too good. With Canadian maple syrup, nothing beats them. I always stuff myself when I come over. Unlike you, though. How can you stomach Aunt Mei’s sour plum jam?”

“Mm. I think it’s lovely. A little tart, quite appetizing.”

“Jeez, you’re something.” Ash trailed off, thought for a beat, then gave him a thumbs-up. “Every new kid who ever came by hated that jam. In all these years, you’re the only one who likes it. Even after you left, you still come back a few times a year to stock up. Oh, right. What were you about to say?”

“Well… have you found a job yet?”

“Not yet. No rush. Hmm, how to put it. The idea of having a steady job and moving out of that house feels a little sad… It’s been my home for so many years, after all.”

“That’s fair.”

“Still, leaving isn’t so bad. At least then I can drop by all the time without having to ask Aunt Mei and the others for permission. I’ve been an adult for months now, and they still keep me on a leash… Yeah, I’ve made up my mind. On the day I finally get out, I’m coming to your place to binge VHS tapes! All night long. Movies, documentaries, until the sun comes up. And Chris, you’d better join me!”

“Alright, alright,” Chris said, smiling as he watched his ever-energetic buddy chatter on.

Only after she had talked herself out did Chris finally speak.

“Hey, actually… there’s a favor you could help me with today.”

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