Page 34 of Encounter

Even if it wasn’t anything big and we were only part of a crowd of about sixty people, I felt like Zola just walked up to Madonna because of the singer’s beaming stage presence. His name was Logan Shaw, and although I didn’t know much about playing guitar, his skill impressed me.

“You enjoyed the concert?” He glanced at the both of us, melodic voice painted with a thick Aussie accent.

While Zola seemed as natural and charismatic as always, I stood there, anxiously playing with the edge of my sleeve. “It was truly wonderful,” I said with a smile, while Zola nodded next to me.

“Mom said you’re close to doing an official tour. How cool!”

“She’s been wonderful. Couldn’t have done it without her,” he sang her praises, glancing back at me every so often, probably to check if I was still there. Thankfully, one of the sound people rushed in from the back, tapping on his shoulder. “Ah. Sorry, but I think I’ve got to get going. Nice seeing you, Zola. Zola’s friend.” Grinning, Logan shook my hand and disappeared.

I finally took a deep breath.

“Errr, I should’ve warned you, huh?” she asked, turning her attention back to me with an apologetic, toothy grin.

I hesitantly chuckled, shifting on my feet. “It’s alright. I just didn’t expect you to run up to the singer. Did your mom sign him?”

“Oh no, not exactly,” she clarified while we slowly walked from the performance area at the back of the cafe to the main entrance. “Logan isn’t a hundred percent what she’s looking for, but she did recommend him to some other people in the business. It’s all really unbelievable—she just walked by here one day,superearly in the morning, barely anything was set up, she was rushing to work late, trying to get some coffee, and he was singing at the back.” Zola was almost beaming as she spoke. “She sat here for a good fifteen minutes. Completely forgot she had things to do!”

Following her with a smile, I held an empty coffee cup in one hand. “Seems like he got really lucky. Heisreally good. I can see him getting big. He plays the guitar so well, too.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Damn, I should’ve gotten an autograph from him,” she blurted excitedly. “Could come handy once he gets John Lennon-big.” Chuckling together, we both abruptly stopped when we realized we got to the door. Opening it, I let Zola get out first. Though it was getting dark and a little cold, my insides were still warm from the good coffee and even better music.

We looked at each other, wondering who should say something first, but Zola eventually beat me to it. “We’re not too far from my parents’ place. I promised them I’d swing by at some point. You should come in for a bit. I really want to show you the new piano Dad bought. You’ll adore it!” Locking her hands in a prayer, she gave me her best puppy expression.

I was pretty tired, but I promised her that today, we were going to have fun. “It’ll only make me jealous.” I smirked hesitantly, but quickly followed up with, “Alright then.”

Come to think of it, I’d probably been to Zola’s apartment only about a dozen times. They didn’t own a house in a calm, high-end neighborhood like we did, but instead lived in a fancy suite in a new apartment building right in the middle of the city. I didn’t really understand why she lived in a dorm when she could easily stay at home, but if I could somehow perfectly replicate my bedroom and music room, I probably would’ve done the same.

Her home-life was almost the exact opposite of what I had. Even though her father owned two companies, he always made time for her and went to quite a few family holidays with them. Not to mention her mom, who organized theater performances and concerts all over. She was still there pretty much every time I visited.

Even though Zola was adopted, her parents still made time for her. They really did feel like a real family.

As we waited for the taxi, Zola was so excited she almost bounced on the spot like a wind-up toy.

It took only a few minutes of driving to get to the impressive, sparkling apartment building. Greeted by the doorman and going nineteen floors up, we finally made it to that familiar emerald door at the end of the hall.

“I’m here, Mom, and we’ve got a guest!” Zola shouted from the entrance.

The stark difference was even more evident when I realized I’d probably never done that. Here, the lights were already on, and I could smell the scent of Pad Thai coming from the kitchen. Even the details—the homey, artistic clutter consisting of many little paintings, statues, and postcards scattered around the otherwise modern looking home—were incomparable to what I knew.

Before I had time to get too caught up in my pity party, Mrs. Delano emerged from behind the wall separating their kitchen and living room.

“Galen! Haven’t seen you in a while!” Rocking elegant twists and an extravagant, modern yellow dress that complimented her skin tone, Zola’s mom rushed toward me and held me in a tight hug before I even knew what was going on.

“Hello, Mrs. Delano.” I briefly returned the hug with a shy smile—it felt good, warm and soft, but also unfamiliar. I didn’t think I’d ever hugged Dad. Mrs. Delano, though... she hugged me every single time.

“My, haven’t you gotten taller?! I didn’t expect any visitors with Zola, so there's a bit of a mess around here,” she said in her raspy voice—it always reminded me of some rock’n’roll star like Joan Jett. Still, it exuded the most loving, soft aura.

“Don’t worry about it,” I blurted out, realizing I got lost in thought.

Giving her mom a playful, ‘leave him alone’ grimace, Zola gestured for me to follow her. “We’re going to chill in my room for a bit.”

“Alright, alright! I won’t bother no more... I still have some work to do. Need to sign some boring contracts and call some agents. Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?”

Zola shouted with a thumbs up, “Sure!”

When she closed the door of her childhood bedroom behind us, Zola gave me an apologetic grin, but it was quickly replaced by her excitement. Her perfectly decorated, totally charming bedroom complete with fairy lights and fluffy rug sent me back. In contrast to the generally girly aesthetic were many sci-fi posters, special edition figures, and the Star Trek hand sign plaque on the wall. It probably looked the same since the beginning of high school, yet it still fit her.

While she sat on her bed, I studied the photos covering the edges of her vanity mirror. Most of them were of her family—all of them together, on holidays, and even vintage photos of her parents when they were young. I wished I had pictures of Mom. Wished I could’ve known more about her past, even if it was an old, blurry photograph.Should I ask Dad about it again?

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