Page 26 of On My Side
ok, i’ll take care of it.
Mom
Thank you! I love you!
Ren
love you, too
It’s around a ten minute walk from Queenie’s to Audrey’s home, a small white cottage tucked behind the inn. I spend ten minutes trying to figure out what we have in common to talk about so it isn’t awkward.
“Piper!” I exclaim as we climb up her front porch steps. The white cottage is tucked away behind the inn, the sky blue shutters and doors popping against the white. Purple and blue hydrangeas line the front porch, and theporch. I don’t know when having a front porch became my lifelong dream, but god. I’m in love with it.
The porch is scattered with mismatched chairs and a table, all different colors and styles. But despite that, everything looks like it belongs. It’s welcoming and cozy, and I hope she’s okay with me never leaving.
Audrey stops walking and stares at me. “What?”
“Piper,” I repeat. “Your daughter.”
She blinks at me a few times. “Yes?”
“She’s cool,” is the response I land on. Great work, Lorenzo. Real smooth. Making her think you’re unintelligible is one way to reiterate the fact I’m just a kid to her.
Strangely, Audrey doesn’t seem weirded out by my sudden outburst about her child’s coolness. Quite the opposite, actually. A slow, proud smile spreads across her face, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
It’s devastating.
“Yeah. The coolest,” she says, pulling her keys out from her oversized bag. “She’s my favorite human on the planet, and like, yeah, it’s probably because she’s my kid, but I’m so lucky she’s mine.”
And somehow this woman, who I thought couldn’t be more beautiful, is even more exquisite while talking about how much she loves her kid. Cool. Cool.
Get yourself together, weirdo.
“Do you want coffee?” she asks, pushing the front door open.
“Sure.” I already had a latte at my parents’ this morning, as is my post-run tradition. It started when Millie moved out of our parents’ house a few years back and instantly missed their fancy espresso machine. She mentioned how she snuck into the house in the mornings to get her fix, and the next morning, I showed up, too. Over time, more people joined in our criminal activity until we were discovered. Except it turns out my dad woke up early to unlock the door for us and knew the whole time, which I personally thought would take the thrill out of it, but it’s still a special routine for us, and our numbers continue to grow.
I should’ve known my parents knew what was going on the moment oat milk appeared in the fridge.
I step into the house after Audrey. “I sort of made a guess when I brought you coffee on your run. How do you usually take it?” she asks, closing the door and locking it behind me.
However you’ll give it to me, sweetheart.
I have zero chill.
“Oat milk and sugar,” I respond, grateful she can’t read my mind.
She nods towards the food in my hand. “Should we warm it up?”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt.”
I follow her into the kitchen, and if I was obsessed with her front porch, I’m whatever is one step above obsessed with her kitchen. The furniture and cookware are all mismatched again, and artwork, pictures, and graded assignments make it so no part of the fridge door’s surface is showing.
I find myself drawn to one in particular, an old photo held to the fridge with a Brooklyn, NY magnet. In the center is Audrey the way I remember her from all those years ago. Next to her is an older woman with a bright smile and crinkles around her eyes. Her aunt, I assume. On her aunt’s lap is a little, blonde human with a grumpy scowl on their face, and my heart lurches when I realize this picture must have been taken soon after Piper was born. She can’t be more than a few months old.
“It’s weird seeing her that tiny now she’s a terrifying teenager,” Audrey says from behind me.
“That’s your aunt? The one who left you the inn and cottage?” I ask, pointing to the woman in the picture.
