Love, After Dark

Chapter 35

SIRI

I woke up exhausted. Again. Another restless night clung to me like a fog, my body heavy and my mind buzzing with half-remembered dreams that slipped away the moment I opened my eyes. The alarm went off far too soon, the sound sharp and offensive for a Saturday morning. School on a Saturday felt… wrong.

I groaned, slapped the alarm silent, and rolled over, dragging my pillow over my face. For a brief, tempting moment, I considered forgetting about all of it- gym class, theater punishment, responsibilities- and just going back to sleep. The universe didn’t let me. My door creaked open and Mom poked her head inside. “You up?” I sighed dramatically, pulling the pillow away. “Yeah.” She gave me a look that said I’ll be back if you’re lying and disappeared down the hall. I dragged myself out of bed.

I moved on autopilot- shower, clothes, brush teeth- until I was running down the stairs, tugging my hoodie into place. Mom was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, methodically chopping vegetables. A cutting board full of peppers and onions sat beside her, the rhythmic thock, thock of the knife oddly soothing. She didn’t turn around. “Morning.” “Morning,” I mumbled in return.

She grabbed the orange juice from the refrigerator and set it on the counter, then reached into the cupboard for a glass. I walked right past it and went straight for the coffee pot. Her hand paused mid-reach. For just a second, concern flickered across her face, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she quietly swapped the glass for a mug and slid it toward me. The cream and sugar were already out; she’d just made her own cup.

We stood there together, side by side, sipping coffee in silence. It was strange. Since Monday, we’d only spoken when necessary. Logistics, reminders, basic politeness. The anger between us had faded, but the space it left behind felt unfamiliar, like we didn’t quite know how to step back into normal. Eventually, the silence became unbearable.

“So—” we both said at the same time. We stopped. Looked at each other. Mom gestured for me to go first, but then waved it off. “No, go ahead.” “You go,” I said. She exhaled softly. “How’s Sia doing?” I shrugged. “She’s… being Sia. Slamming doors. Dramatic sighs.”, I said, rolling my eyes. Sia had been giving mom the silent treatment. Mom huffed. “She’s so headstrong,” she said, frustration slipping through. I smiled faintly. “Yeah… well. She’s thirteen.” Mom snorted. “Still. You were never like that. So determined to rebel.” Then she laughed, shaking her head. “Like me,” she added, amused despite herself. We both chuckled, the tension easing just a little.

She sighed, softer this time, and looked at me. “And you’re just like your father. Smart. Thoughtful. Kind. Patient.” Her voice gentled on each word. I leaned my head against her shoulder, and she rested hers against mine. We didn’t say anything else. We just stood there, sharing warmth and coffee and a quiet understanding that we’d find our way back to each other.

When I finally pulled into the school parking lot, there was already a small crowd gathering just inside the doors. Nala spotted me immediately and waved me over to a folding table set up with sign-in sheets. “Siri! Over here.” I scribbled my name quickly and joined the group, slipping into the low hum of laughter and complaints that filled the space. Then she appeared. The woman looked like she’d stepped out of a different decade entirely. Blonde hair swept back into a loose, stylish updo. Oversized, square-framed glasses perched on her nose, magnifying her bright eyes. She wore bold dangling earrings that swayed when she moved and a patterned blouse in warm reds and pinks that somehow made her look both glamorous and comforting. She clapped her hands together sharply, the sound echoing through the entryway.

“Alright, students!” she announced cheerfully. “My name is Mrs. Parks, and I’ve been told you are the lucky winners who get to help me for the next few weeks.” “You mean losers,” someone muttered under their breath. Mrs. Parks smiled wider. “Now, now. Let’s turn those frowns upside down! This will be a great experience. Lots of teamwork, creativity and responsibility. Things colleges love,” she added knowingly. A few groans rippled through the group. “Now,” she continued brightly, already turning on her heel, “if you’ll all line up and follow me to the auditorium.” She walked off at a brisk pace, earrings swinging, leaving us scrambling to fall into line. I sighed. Something told me this Saturday was about to be anything but quiet.