November 10, 2000

"Morgan! Come down right now or you'll miss the bus!" Amy called from behind the island. Coffee brewed with a gentle hum in its percolator, filling the room with a warm, sweet, pleasant smell. Morgan, however, had no time for such things. She was at the age where primping before school was as much a part of her daily routine as brushing her teeth. Amy, who had been up for a while and had just dropped Joshua off at the daycare center, was still riding off of the excitement of having another one of her children under her roof, and was frying bacon and cracking eggs for the first time since her eldest son had been home. Her mission for the next couple of days was simple: she had to get more meat on his bones and since he was the only one in the family that actually enjoyed bacon and eggs, she figured that this was as good a start as any. She glanced briefly in his direction, noting how his cheekbones had never quite jutted out quite like they had after he had shaved the night before for dinner at the Feeny household.

He had been up before her this morning and had been the one to start coffee, another couple of firsts. Adorned in his familiar green plaid robe, frayed with age, he sat quietly at the kitchen table, the morning's paper in front of him.

"Are you alright, honey?" She had asked, slightly disturbed with her son's odd behavior.

"Oh yeah, mom," he had replied calmly, his sullen eyes never leaving the thin gray material. "Just looking at the classifieds."

Amy was surprised at his eagerness to seek gainful employment. Normally, it was like pulling teeth to get Eric to do much of anything. Her stomach was in knots, a dull painful ache that signified her suspicions were correct. Something had happened in New York or on the way home, and it had changed him. Whether for better or for worse was yet to seen, but she didn't hold out much hope for him.

Have I ever given him any hope? The Annoying Voice of Reason inside her head proclaimed before going quiet again.

"Two or three, Eric?" she asked, turning to look in his direction, her spatula suspended in the air momentarily.

"Three," he replied, taking a sip of coffee from his favorite mug. It was one of the oldest ones in the house with the Grouch on it. Under the green creature in his customary trashcan, black letters clearly spelled out "Don't be such a Grouch!" As a child, Eric would watch hours and hours of Sesame Street and he would always giggle the most when the Grouch came out to play. Two weeks after Eric had left, Amy had found that very same mug in the cupboard and hadn't stopped crying for two days.

Eric nonchalantly pulled out the comic section from the paper and began to read. "Less comics, more classifieds," Amy remarked, flipping the bacon and pouring orange into a small glass. She put the food on a plate and served it to him, waiting for one of Eric's famous smart-aleck responses. But none came.

"Sure," Eric's replied in a robot-like monotone voice as he crumpled up the comics and returned his attention to the job section. Amy looked at him with concern. Normally he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but the man sitting in front of her was emotionally distant, bordering on downright cold.

"Eric, are you alright?" She reached out and placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

"Never better," Eric replied, giving his mother a smile before taking another sip of coffee.

The front door opened and slammed. Cory and Topanga were in the kitchen within seconds.

"Well, lookie who we have here. The prodigal son returns once more, huh Topanga?" Cory walked over and hugged Amy. "Mom, how are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, uneasy about Cory's demeanor. "Much better than you were when this low life left town without saying anything huh?" Topanga scoffed. She liked Eric and really didn't hold any animosity over what he had done. However, she would probably never tell Cory that, for she played the roll of a soundboard and would almost always agree with Cory if that meant that Cory would calm down for a few minutes.

Eric put the paper down on the table and looked up at his brother. "Listen, Cory. What I do in my life really isn't any of your business. I'm back from New York. I'm never going back. It's done."

"Done?!" Cory practically screamed, a sharp contrast to his brother's calm tone. He grabbed the front of Eric's robe, his eyes nearly black with anger. "Do you have any idea how many nights I stayed awake, praying that your dumbass," a bit of saliva hit Eric on the forehead, "wasn't lying dead in a gutter somewhere? How is that not my business?"

Topanga stood back beside Amy, dumbfounded. "Mrs. Matthews?" She whispered into the air desperation in her voice, "Please do something." She almost never saw Cory truly mad, and if she were honest with herself, when moments like these transpired, it scared the shit out of her to see that side of him.

Amy, who had decided to let her sons talk this out, judged that it had indeed gone too far too fast; certainly much farther than she thought Cory would take it. "Cory! Get off of your brother right now! Honestly you two…"

Cory continued, "I can't even imagine what Mom and Dad went though." Cory finally let him go, at his mother's command, but couldn't begin to stop dumping his feelings on his estranged relative. "You are so selfish Eric. I was going to name a child after you, but the thought of having a child like you makes me so sick I don't even want to risk it."

Eric stepped back, his robe now open, showing his white t-shirt and blue boxer shorts. "I really don't care what you think," he said, to the surprise of everyone in the room. "A few weeks and I'm out of your life, you self-righteous prick. I had no problem with you so why do you have to have a problem with me? I'm 23 years old. I can make my own decisions."

Cory sighed. "You've made all of the wrong ones, Eric. You should be settled down by now, but you just can't hack it."

"That's your life, Cory, not mine." Eric could see the hurt in his little brother's eyes and for the first time since his journey back to Philly, he realized how much he had hurt his family. Cory had always known just the right buttons to punch to strike a sore nerve and his wished his soul could mirror the pain apparent in Cory's eyes, but his own brown irises looked glazed over, lifeless. "My reasons were my own and I'm not going to apologize for it, end of story. Listen, I'm sorry that you are hurt, alright? Truce?" Eric stuck out his hand, willing to bite the bullet for his brother's sake. The real truth was, he didn't care about much of anything anymore. Not after the events that had taken place in New York. He wanted nothing more than to just fade away into the distance and live a simple life alone, especially after last night. The last thing he had needed was a literal dinner date with his biggest problem. Maybe if he were on good terms with his family, they would just leave him alone once he left for good.

"Maybe," Cory replied, returning Eric's handshake with less than stellar enthusiasm, Topanga and Amy looked on awkwardly.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the kitchen door. Amy rushed to open it, grateful for something to distract her from the uncomfortable tension in the room. Alexandra poked her head into the kitchen, her attire much different from what the Matthew's saw her dressed in the night before. Black sweatpants hung loosely on her hips under a matching shapeless, faded sweatshirt with UPENN stitched on the front in big orange letters. Her hear was tied into a floppy bun her face was devoid of makeup, and clean Tupperware rested in her arms.

"Is now a good time?" She sheepishly asked waiting in the doorway to be invited in. Amy exhaled, thankful for the heaven-sent diversion. Topanga nervously crossed the room and stood next to her husband. Eric made eye contact with her before quickly shifting them downward. He yanked the newspaper off of the kitchen table.

"No," Eric replied. "It's not. I was just leaving to find a job and become a productive member of society and not just some hot piece of village idiot. You know, settle down." He made eye contact with her again, but with more confidence than the first time. "Nice to see you again, Alexandra."

Wait, he knows her name now? Amy thought, before dismissing it quickly and deciding that she was reading far too much into things.

"You too…um?" Alexandra eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I'm so sorry, what was your name again?"

"Eric, but don't worry about it, I'm a 'shove to the side' kind of guy anyway."

Alexandra diverted her eyes as if his statement embarrassed her.

Eric then quickly passed the two ladies and retreated to his old abode, glad to be out of the way. Alexandra discreetly followed him with her eyes before returning her attention to Amy.

"Here you go, Mrs. Matthews. All ready to use again." She smiled amicably, passing them over with care.

"Thank you so much, Alexandra, and please, don't fell bad about Eric. It was nothing you said," Amy replied, pulling out a well-worn step stool, and began to place the accessories in their appropriate places very carefully. After all, that was Amy's way. Everything was done with caution and precision, even something as seemingly mundane as putting clean dishes away. She was the same way with people. Except for Alexandra. While it had taken her almost a year to warm up to Shawn, who was now as much a part of the family as George Feeny, she had felt completely at ease with Lila's granddaughter almost the moment she had met her. Looking into her face and hearing her speak last night had begun solidifying her warm, nearly motherly feelings that she had felt when the new girl had made her second appearance seconds before. It's a shame, really, she thought, that Eric isn't more like her. Maybe Eric could meet someone like that, someone refined and intelligent.

She heard the front kitchen door shut, and assumed that Alexandra had taken her leave.

Phat chance he would do that well.

A harsh, female tone sliced through her thoughts. "Who is this?" Topanga asked, taking in the strange woman standing so close to her mother-in-law. Cory inwardly cringed. After her parents split up, she was a lot less trusting of people than in years past, and it was just getting worse with the passing years. Once, she had welcomed every living creature on the planet into her world. When Cory was 13, he used to fantasize about Topanga being Mother Earth in disguise, loving all things. But as he looked at her now, her eyes narrowed slightly at a guest in his mother's house, he secretly yearned for that girl again.

Alexandra locked eyes with the source of the noise, the accusing stare making her instantly uneasy. She bit in the inside of her cheek, praying that Eric had never said a word about her to any of his family.

"Oh." Amy descended the step stool, unaware of the weird vibe in the room, "how rude of me!" she exclaimed, abruptly ending her task. "This is Alexandra Kincaid." She put a reassuring hand on Alexandra's shoulder. "She's Dean Bolander's granddaughter. We met her at dinner last night and she was bringing my clean dishes back. She washed them for me. Isn't that kind of her?"

"Hello," Alexandra meekly said, nodding her head in acknowledgement to the couple. The man looked at her with a perplexed stare. "Hey," he replied. "My name is Cory Matthews. I'm Eric's brother." He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite find the words in which to say it.

The other woman moved her body so that she was between her and her husband. To Alexandra, this particular territorial gesture betrayed her emotions. She was smiling, but her eyes were telling a different story. "And I'm Topanga," she extended her hand and shook Alexandra's hand firmly. "Very nice to meet you both," Alexandra commented, trying her hardest to muster a warm smile to combat Topanga's icy stare.

She was sure she didn't look good. Last night, she had been kept awake, jarred with the sudden encounter with a face from her sordid past. A million thoughts had run through her head as she had unpacked a few outfits for the next couple of days to hold her over until she completely unpacked her new apartment. She had then changed into a baggy pair of silk pajamas given to her by her disgustingly rich fiancé. The bed sheets were chocolate brown and littered with tiny pink decorative carnations. Alexandra turned the bed down, chuckling at the matching brown sheets before settling herself into bed. Questions popped into her head almost instantly, tying knot after knot into her stomach.

Was I aloof?

How in the world did this happen?

Did anyone suspect anything?

She reached over to turn off the bedside lamp when she noticed a picture on the table, embellished by a sterling silver frame. She yanked the photograph and held it close to her face. It was a Christmas card, titled "Merry Christmas from the Matthews, '93"

That would have been six months after their last summer together. Upon further inspection, she could tell that George was obviously Santa and the Matthew family was gathered around him, identical smiles of joy on their faces. Her eyes were pulled to Eric, the boy that she had known so well in a life that seemed so far away. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that fateful night, and that agonizing decision.

Please guys… His voice had echoed in her head for the remainder of the night.

I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so fucking sorry.

"I'm sorry," Cory said, his head popping up behind his wife. "I know this may sound weird but have we met? You look so familiar to me."

"I don't believe so," A wave of panic washed though her. She willed it away as quickly as it had come, preparing her next words carefully. "I guess I have one of those faces."

Cory didn't believe her. He was extremely good with faces and when he saw one, he almost never forgot it. Something was off about this woman and as Alexandra spoke, the timbre in her voice sounded distantly familiar. He decided right then and there to get to the bottom of it.

"Yeah, I guess you do," Topanga observed, now more relaxed around the other female. She took a seat at the kitchen table and, turning her nose up at Eric's forgotten plate, grabbed her brown leather day planner from her matching purse and opened it, observing the errands that had to be done before the day's end. Cory joined her in Eric's old seat and Amy proceeded to happily make them both a plate.

"Well, I need to go," Alexandra said, already moving toward the kitchen door. "All of those heavy boxes aren't going to move themselves and I only have the U-Haul for the week.

Perfect opportunity, Matthews.

Cory jumped at the chance of getting to discreetly check out some of her belongings. Cory was a nosy individual, knowing it and embracing it. "Topanga and I have the day off. We were going to hang around here for a while because the offices are being fumigated. We'd love to help you move, especially if you're all by yourself."

"We would?!" Topanga whispered to him, kicking him underneath the table. He nudged her back and gave her a look of warning.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to take you away from your day off," Alexandra said, opening the door and turning to Amy. "May I fill up my water bottle really quick while I'm here? I almost forgot."

Amy, who had just finished pouring her son and his wife a glass of orange juice, replied cheerfully. "Oh, sure dear whatever you need. You're practically family."

Topanga returned Cory's dark eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Trust me, something's not right with her. I saw the way Eric looked at her before bolting upstairs and I'm almost certain I've seen her before. You know how I am with faces, so that means she's lying to my parents. I just can't think of were I've seen her before. I want to snoop."

Topanga's jaw dropped. "What? That's so rude, Core."

"I mean," Cory said, quickly covering up his tracks to save his skin, "I want to help out a potential friend. Come on! You were just saying the other day about how we need to help our fellow man more." He gave her a look that conveyed one very simple but direct message: we are doing this. No turning back.