Chan woke up to the sound of his family arguing downstairs. It took him two minutes of intense eye rubbing and yawning to understand the arguing was just loud talking. It was the smell of pancakes that finally made him leave his bed.
Stretching his limbs, he rearranged his blanket and pillows. He heard his mom laugh at something one of his siblings said, and despite everything, he still wanted to remember the sound of it as if it would be taken from him the next moment. Some things were hard to let go of. Even after all this time.
After freshening up, he padded his way downstairs and, for a moment, took in the sight of all his family sitting together. His siblings were fighting over each other to get some point across. His mom was watching the interaction with fondness in her eyes.
"Channie!" She said, noticing him standing at the stairwell. "Come come sit. I will get you a plate."
"No, no," He replied, gesturing her to remain seated. "I will get it."
When he returned, his siblings were still arguing while his dad tried to break up the fight. He grabbed a couple of pancakes and poured some syrup on top. When he sat down, his mom had already placed a glass of orange juice before him.
"Thank you," he replied with a smile.
"Okay, that is enough," his dad said, putting his glasses down. "Can we go back to being civil? For ten minutes? I beg you."
"What are they arguing about?" Chan asked his father, taking a bite from the pancakes. "These are really good, mom." His mom got up and brushed his hair affectionately before going back into the kitchen.
"Oh, who knows," his dad said, sipping his coffee. "The last I remember, they were talking about who was better at swimming, which then proceeded to World War Three."
"Me," Chan supplied, taking a sip from his glass.
"Absolutely not." Hannah turned towards him with a frown on his face. "I can hold my breath longer than either of you."
Chan leaned in and bopped her nose. "And yet, I have more medals."
"Medals are not the only things that count," Lucas said from his end of the table, struggling to stuff a ginormous piece of pancake in his mouth.
Hannah turned to her and made a face at him. "That's just something losers like to say."
"Be nice to your brother, Hannah." Her mother called from the kitchen. "What time are you and Veronica coming for dinner, Chan?"
"Around 7," he replied, getting up and gathering all the plates around the table to take to the dishwasher. "Is that okay?"
"Of course," his mom replied. "Do you know if she's allergic to anything?"
Chan thought hard, trying to sift through the dearth of information Veronica had provided about herself. "I don't think so." He began loading the dishwasher, making sure to rinse everything before putting the ceramics inside.
"You don't have to do this," his mom said, coming up behind him. "I can do it."
"It's no problem," he replied with a shrug. "Do you need me to come help for dinner? You know, Mom, you don't have to make anything special."
His mom cocked his head to the side, the expression on her face inscrutable. "Chan, honey, I can manage dinner just fine. You are bringing a girl home for the first time in a year, I get to be extra."
He didn't like lying to his parents, but the quagmire was thick and unrelenting. He and Veronica had decided to commit to this bit, and meeting up with his parents felt like the obvious and most comfortable first step in this direction.
His mom began chopping up vegetables, already starting to prepare for dinner. He watched her narrow shoulders and thin arms. The shirt hanging loose on her body, and the apron tightened around her waist. His mother had always been a frail woman, but cancer had taken so much out of her. She looked like she would disappear, and the only thing keeping her there was his attention. Him.
"Do you have classes today?" His mother asked, oblivious to his inner turmoil.
When Chan replied, his voice was thick. "Yeah, at 11. I will start getting ready."
"Do you want me to pack lunch?" His mom called after his receding figure.
"No," he answered. "I will get something from the cafeteria."
He spent the rest of the day at the university attending lectures and practicing piano in the few spare moments he got. He had a big recital coming up where every student had to present an original composition. Teaming up with other students was not mandatory but appreciated as it would demonstrate their capability to work harmoniously with other musicians. He was thinking of asking Han to join him. so far, he had the chorus melody, but he wanted a secondary opinion.
"Chan" someone called out. It was Han.
"Oh, hey," he greeted. He was surprised to see Han in the linguistic building of the university. Chan was minoring in French and often had lectures here.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Han.
"Actually," Han replied, falling into step with him. "I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you something."
Chan held the door open and let the group of students pass before them. "What's up?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to team up for the recital?" Han asked, looking sheepish. He was wearing a Metallica shirt that hung loosely over his shoulders. "I know they said it is not important to perform with someone, but I would like to team up. As much as I love music, performing alone still gives me a little anxiety."
Chan chuckled to himself. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
The two of them entered the Basil Gardens and sat on an empty bench. The garden was right in the centre of the four main campus buildings. Students were littered about its surface, some studying, some dozing in the soft afternoon sun, and some catching up with their friends. With Fall approaching, the leaves were beginning to turn a beautiful orangish red.
"Really?" Han asked. "Oh. I am relieved."
"Yeah. I even have a chorus melody, but we don't have to use it. You can give it a listen, and then we can decide how to proceed." He took out a bag of chips from his bag and offered it to Han.
"My place?" Han enquired, grabbing a chip.
"Sure." Chan saw a familiar figure approaching them. His heart fell to his stomach. "But not today, I have this dinner with my parents."
"No problem." Han looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. "Fuck, I am late for my shift. Bye."
Chan watched him sprint through the garden exit, giving himself enough time to take a long breath before Diana took the empty spot next to him.
"Hello, stranger," she said, as a way of greeting.
She looked beautiful. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, few strands had escaped and caressed her neck and cheeks. "Hey," he replied. He didn't know that Diana had enrolled for her Master's. It was something she said she would do but he hadn't expected to see her on the campus grounds so early.
She smelled the same too, jasmine with a hint of vanilla. Sitting this close to her was bringing back memories that he had long tried to bury over the last year. If the proximity to him affected Diana, she didn't show. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight? We can catch up. Two old friends?"
He wanted to laugh at the nonchalance. It was so like Diana to expect everyone to just go with her flow. She had wanted a breakup. She expected him to just simply accept it. No questions asked. Now, she wanted them to be friends. Chan didn't think he had it in his heart to scramble past the broken bits and find any friendship inside. She had broken up with him and left on this year-long trip of hiking through Europe. Chan had firmly believed that time had been the salve that he needed. That he was over her. But then she had shown up at Selena's party and he felt like someone had thrown his body through the black hole.
"I don't think so," Chan replied. "Veronica and I are having dinner with my parents today."
Chan watched closely for any signs of irritation. After all, Veronica was so confident about Diana's dislike towards their relationship. He watched as her shoulders tensed. It did bother her. he felt a spark of smugness in his chest.
"Dinner with the parents," she said, trying to mask her irritation. "It must be going well then."
"Oh yeah," he replied with a small smile. "They wanted to meet her so I thought why not."
Diana wiped her hand on her skirt and got up. "Well, I hope you guys have a good time. I will see you later." With that, she walked away. He felt his whole body sag forward, the tension leaving his muscles. This was a new feeling. He had never felt tense around Diana. She was the first friend he had made when his family decided to move to South Molton from Australia. She was his best friend and the girl he had been in love with for such a long time that when she broke up with him it felt like his whole body would collapse on itself. she had been there for him when his mom got diagnosed. Through the chemotherapy and recovery. She was the one thing who held him together during those two years. And yet, the feeling of dread and wariness that now floated in his stomach was distinct.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out. It was a text from Veronica. She had finally given him her number after he had laid down the most obvious fact that as his fake girlfriend, he should have her number. He also wanted to say that friends should have each other's numbers in case of emergencies, but he didn't want to push his luck with her. Veronica gave so little of herself to him that every morsel felt like a victory.
What does one wear to meet someone's parents? Her text read.
Chan smiled and typed out: A brassiere?
Not funny, Chan. He could picture her looking down at her phone with a small frown on her face.
Do you need help? He asked and watched as the three dots appeared and disappeared for a full minute. He knew ping-pong balls were bouncing in her brain, competing for the correct answer to his question. Finally, she replied: Yes, please :-)
Somehow this felt like a small win as well.
Veronica's apartment was located close to the university. The redbrick building matched its neighbours in height and width. He buzzed for her apartment at the front gate and waited to be let in. A couple of months ago he was looking for apartments in the same locality. He wanted to be closer to the university and moving out of the house felt like the right step. Then his mom got the flu and Chan got scared, his brain refusing to differentiate between a common flu and a life-threatening disease. Suddenly, moving out felt like too big of a step. He wanted to be there in case something happened. To look after his siblings. So, he stopped looking.
The front door to Veronica's apartment was open so he let himself in. Taking off his shoes by the door he called out, "I am here."
"In the kitchen," Veronica replied. The apartment was small but enough for one person. The small table with two chairs in the hallway looked like they came with the apartment. The walls were painted a light yellow. He entered the kitchen to his left and found Veronica making coffee.
"Coffee?" she asked.
"No, I-" He cut himself off as he felt something brush past his legs. It was a cat. An orange tabby. He watched as the cat jumped on the counter, peering into Veronica's mug investigatively.
"You have a cat," he announced, watching Veronica scratch the cat's head affectionately.
"Her name's Pumpkin," she told him, as she grabbed Pumpkin and put her down on the floor. He squatted down and offered his hand for Pumpkin to sniff. When the cat was satisfied, he reached and scratched her chin. The cat meowed in response and then left.
"She's cute," he commented. "How old is she?"
Veronica leaned against the kitchen counter. "She'll be two years old in December. Are you sure you don't want some coffee? Tea?"
"Actually tea would be nice." Veronica nodded and filled up the kettle with water. He watched her work from the threshold of the kitchen. Her curls fell around her face like whisps of black clouds. She was still dressed in her office attire which meant she had come here directly from the inn.
"Can I help?" he asked, stepping into the kitchen.
"You can look at what tea you want." She pointed at the cupboard to her right. "I have a couple of options."
He chose Earl Gray and tore open the packet, putting it in a mug that had a photo of Pedro Pascal on it. "How was your day?"
Veronica made a face as she poured hot water into the mug. "I had to check out the Bridgestocks which I knew was going to make me want to pull my hair out."
"Yeah?" Chan asked, sipping his tea. He followed Veronica as she took him to her room. He liked the way she smelled, warm and spicy with a hint of sandalwood. It was intoxicating.
"They triple-checked their bills and asked me why I charged them for room service," Veronica explained, opening her closet. "To which all I could do was remind them that the room service charged to them was in fact the room service they asked for during their stay."
Chan took a moment to take in Veronica's room. The bed was neatly made with the pillows stacked and the blanket folded. Pumpkin had followed them inside and taken her seat at the centre of it. There was a huge window next to the bed which looked out to the street down below. There were plants on the windowsill.
"Didn't take you for a plant person," he commented.
Veronica looked away from her clothes and glanced at the plants he was pointing at. "I am not. Those are fakes. What do you think about this?"
She was holding a black pencil skirt and a burgundy shirt that matched the colour on her lips. He clicked his tongue. "I don't know. Are you planning on representing them in court?"
She exhaled through her mouth making a stray curl fly. "Too formal. God, I suck at this."
Chan took a seat on the chair next to the bed and noticed the spines of the books on the bookshelf. "You are putting too much pressure on yourself. Just look for something you're comfortable in."
There was a planar on her table, and stacks of CDs and vinyls. He firmly believed that music was a gateway to a person. You could know so much about someone if you knew the kind of music they listened to.
"A cranberries fan," he commented, running his hand along the vinyl covers.
"What can I say," Veronica replied, pulling out a brown dress. "They know exactly what I want to say. What about this?"
"That's pretty," he replied.
"I will try it on." She crossed the room and went into the attached bathroom. Chan took the opportunity to walk around and look at the photos hanging on the wall. He noticed the polaroids of Charlotte, Selena, and Nate. There was one with Cassie and even two with Minho. He searched for people that might look like an older-looking version of Veronica but didn't find any.
"Hey," he called out. "What about your parents?"
"What?" Veronica replied.
He walked towards the bathroom door so she could hear him well. "Your parents."
The door opened and Veronica stepped out. "What about my parents?"
For a minute the question vanished from his mind. She looked beautiful in the dress and the way it hugged her body. The proximity between them didn't help either. This close, he could see the rich brown of her eyes, like the coffee Veronica so loved to drink. The way freckles were sprinkled along her cheekbones like stars in the sky.
"Um," he said, getting a grip and clearing his throat. "Your parents. You're meeting mine, I was just wondering if you told yours too."
She stepped away from him, adjusting the straps of the dress. "Oh, we don't have to worry about them."
"What do you mean?" He asked, watching her refresh her lipstick.
"I mean," she said, dabbing her lips together and putting on her earrings. "My mom's not going to be a problem."
He waited for her to expand, but when she didn't, he decided to let it go. Veronica didn't seem like someone who appreciated being pushed for answers she didn't want to give, and he had to respect that.
"Is there something I should know before meeting your mom and dad?" She turned to look at him.
He perched at the edge of the bed. Well, he should tell her. "So, I don't know if it is important, but I think you should know this as my fake girlfriend."
She stopped adjusting her hair. "Okay, I am listening."
He let out a heavy breath. It was never an easy topic for him to discuss. He just had to get it out.
"Well," he started. "Three years ago, my mom got diagnosed with breast cancer. She's okay now and everything's good. I didn't want you to feel blindsided by it if the topic came up by chance."
He was used to people's expressions changing to pity as soon as he delivered the news. He waited for the usual condolences and sympathy.
Veronica just offered a small smile and said, "Thank you for telling me."
The line took him by surprise. All he could was nod politely and watch as she went ahead and put on her heels.
"So," Veronica called from the hallway. "I got your parents a bottle of wine. Do you think it's okay, or should we get some flowers?"
He got up and followed her voice to the hallway. "Wine is perfectly fine."
Putting on her coat, she grabbed her purse and exhaled a deep breath. "Okay, I am done. Do I look okay?"
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "You look beautiful, Veronica."
She smiled and reached for the bottle of wine. "Let's go."