Kailor: It's my favorite time of year. It always makes my soul feel soft and warm. So fluff is what you get. Thank you for all your incredible reviews! I am moved every day that someone tells me I've given them some enjoyment with these stories.
Listened to "Your Eyes Tell" by BTS on repeat while writing parts of this chapter. I think it shows lol
Stockbridge always seems to be bustling. It's not a very large town, smaller than Barden. Without a college taking up a large chunk of the space, however, Stockbridge has filled with more shops and restaurants. The main strip of the town is lined with everything from a night club to an old-time barber shop. All the buildings are made of light brick and sign-filled windows. It's a beautiful place and Chloe visits often. Sometimes just walking around shopping, sometimes going to see whatever show the local theater is putting on with one of the girls.
Lunch had been quick and simple–a couple sandwiches at a little Irish café called Dunn Right. Now they're picking their way carefully through The Magpie's Nest. It's an adorable thrift shop, the inside a veritable maze of bristling clothing racks, sagging shelves, and freestanding piles of books. The gray walls are lined with hanging guitars, purses, tools, and carefully packaged assortments of cables.
It's a claustrophobe's worst nightmare, she's sure, but Chloe has frequented it many times over the years. She has never failed to find something amazing here.
"Oooh, you could get her this," she says, holding up a crop top made completely of gold Mardi Gras beads that is barely clinging to the slightly bent hanger it's on.
Aubrey, just a floating head over the small wall of books she's picking through, laughs. "Beca would actually murder me. Probably with the shirt."
Chloe agrees with a hum, jiggling the shirt so it rustles and clacks loudly. "It would be a very entertaining death."
"Happy birthday, Beca. Here's a murder charge." Aubrey carefully dislodges a book stuck halfway down the stack and flops it onto the top of the pile. She opens the cracked cover, peering inside. "But seriously, I'll probably just end up getting her a new flannel. I know she'll actually like that and it can expand her vast collection." A section of the book slides free, unattached to the binding, and Aubrey clicks her tongue, poking it back into place. She goes back to scanning the piles around her.
The Mardi Gras bead shirt is difficult to shove back onto the overfilled rack, but Chloe manages after a few tries. "What are you looking for?"
"A book for the baby."
Chloe stops digging through the ridiculous clothes in front of her. "Oh?"
"Yeah." Aubrey throws her a quick smile. "I was thinking about how your mom used to read to us."
The memories rush warm through her mind. Mamma would read to Chloe every night growing up. And when she started having Aubrey sleep over all the time, Mamma would read to them both. She can almost see her now, sitting in a chair near the door so she can read by the hallway light spilling in. Her red curls down and wild around her shoulders. Her favorite blanket tucked around her legs.
The next book Aubrey frees puffs dust as she sets it atop the first. "I was trying to remember some of the stuff she read us. Do you?"
"Vaguely, yeah." Chloe fiddles idly with the edge of a hanger. "I think, when I was really little, it was just whatever she happened to be reading at the time. I didn't really understand. I just liked her voice. There were some children's books, but not many. I liked her books better." She laughs. "When we got older, it was our textbooks, remember?"
Aubrey's face lights up with recognition. "Oh, yeah! Our Social Studies books. I learned more from that than from actual class."
"I'm convinced I only got an A because of her."
"Well, it definitely wasn't Mr. Gravois' amazing teaching abilities. The man couldn't teach water to be wet."
There's no arguing that. Chuckling, she wanders farther down the aisle she's in. Aubrey disappears from view as Chloe moves behind a large wooden shelf filled with all kinds of board games free from their boxes, their pieces held in Ziploc bags.
"You know, I always wished your parents were mine," Aubrey's quiet voice says on the other side of the wood. She doesn't sound sad, just matter-of-fact, but Chloe's stomach clenches all the same. She stops with her hand resting on the shelf between two games.
It's not like Chloe hadn't known. Aubrey's mother left soon after she was born. Her father worked so much that he was rarely around. It was obvious that she liked Chloe's parents better, but she'd never said it before.
There's some rustling on the other side of the shelf and then Aubrey says, "We were so little, but I still remember the first time I went over. It's one of those memories that's somehow vivid even now. Your dad asked me what my favorite thing to eat was and I said M&Ms." Her laugh vibrates through the shelf. "He made stew that night and gave each of us a little plate of M&Ms on the side."
Chloe smiles. That sounds like Dad.
"Then we went to bed that night and they both came to tuck us in. And your mom started reading to us. You fell asleep so fast. And I was so tired, but I didn't want to sleep. I stayed up a while after, trying to hear more of the story." Aubrey pauses long enough that Chloe starts moving again.
She rounds the end of the shelf and folds her arms on top of the next clothing rack to peer over it at Aubrey.
She's holding a little stack of books, the top one open. Like she can feel Chloe's gaze, she smiles and looks up. "I was just thinking they were great. Still are. And you learned from them. So this kid is really lucky."
Chloe holds out a hand and Aubrey takes it. "You're gonna make me cry," she says, voice strained. Happy tears have been an almost constant presence since that moment on her bathroom floor, when Beca had grinned at her over two little red lines. It takes so little to call them forward and her friends seem determined to keep doing it.
Aubrey laughs, her fingers tapping a rhythm along Chloe's wrist. "Save your tears for the movie. Speaking of which, we should get going soon if we want good seats." With a final squeeze, she releases Chloe's hand and turns to start picking her way to the front counter.
The movie is a showing of Phantom of the Opera at the local playhouse. They'd seen flyers for it at the café and fangirled about it. Aubrey's correct. It starts soon, so Chloe dabs at her damp eyes. She pulls out her phone and takes a snapchat of Aubrey's retreating back to send to Beca. "This bitch making me cry!"
A moment later, Beca responds. It's a picture of just her eyes at the bottom of the screen, deadpan. Over her head, Chloe can see a peace-sign throwing Stacie, standing at the base of the large playset at the park in Barden. "How wild, dude. I was just about to send you the same thing."
Chloe giggles and takes a picture of a particularly ugly porcelain clown statue to send back. "Tears of happiness?" She wanders farther down the aisle, phone in hand as she listens to Aubrey quietly talking with Mr. Reed, the old man that owns the shop.
In the farthest back corner, there's a squat bookshelf, only the height of a nightstand. The shelves are overflowing with stuffed toys. Chloe crouches to get a better look at them.
There are teddy bears galore, all dressed in different outfits, some with missing ears or noses. A grinning shark with googly eyes. A very round hamster-looking thing holding a large lollipop that's leaking stuffing. They're all a little discolored, a bit dusty. But, beneath the bears, a bright patch of yellow catches her eye. She carefully frees the toy.
It's a dog. Plush and plain, all that soft yellow color except for the dark eyes and nose. It fits neatly in the palm of her hand, the floppy ears nearly the largest part of it.
In a flash, she sees the little dog clutched in the arms of that same, redheaded child she'd imagined in pictures on her wall. Tucked into bed beside them. Sitting on the shelf when they're older. Packed carefully into a memory box when they're grown. Well-worn and loved.
She pulls the dog close, cradling it against her stomach, almost reverently petting its soft head. "Hey, little guy," she whispers. "You're coming home with us."
Us. How strange it is to find new beauty in an old word.
Her phone buzzes where it's balanced on her knee and she blinks away the mist in her eyes to swipe at the screen. Now she's making herself cry!
From the angle of the photo, she can tell Beca has climbed to the very top of the playset. The snap is of her legs dangling in empty space (her knee brace on, Chloe notes proudly) and Stacie down below, about to swing out onto the monkey bars. "Tears of happiness will come if she busts her ass in a second. I will consider it my birthday present come early." A crossed fingers emoji caps the message off.
Laughing, Chloe tucks the dog to her cheek and sends a selfie. "Beca Rae, be nice. You love her."
She gets a selfie in return, Beca looking down at the camera with very obvious disdain and just the word, "No."
Aubrey is waiting for her at the front counter, a small bag in hand. "Found something?"
"A friend!" Chloe happily nuzzles the toy against Aubrey's chin.
She wrinkles her nose, but allows it. "Chloe, everything here is dusty. Please refrain."
"She doesn't mean that," Chloe says sincerely to the dog as she lays him on the counter. "Just this, Mr. Reed!"
She decides to call him simply Yellow Dog. Aubrey argues the name for about two seconds before Chloe says, "The baby can name him when they get older." At just the mention of the baby, Aubrey's whole face goes warm and she smiles and acquiesces.
Chloe loves the soft side of people. She'd delighted in finding it in reserved Aubrey when they were kids and even more so in somber Beca later on. And how easily that softness comes out in both of them now at the mere thought of Chloe having a child is thrilling. It's like she's found the ultimate cheat code. She can't wait to watch them with her actual baby.
She thinks of that as they sit in the darkened theater, watching Christine and Raoul sing to each other on the giant screen that's been hung over the stage. Yellow Dog is in her lap, cupped in her hands so she can rub her thumbs down his fleecy back.
Contemplating the softness of her friends somehow turns to just thinking about Beca. Because Beca's soft side had been the most surprising in the beginning. It still surprises her sometimes. The thought that it might run even deeper excites her. She imagines Beca rushing back into the house to grab Yellow Dog because the baby is crying. Carefully laying them in a crib. Holding pudgy hands as they take their first, shaky steps.
Even just in her head, the image tugs at her heart. Strums the strings of it until her whole body is buzzing.
It's a hum that stays as they drive back to Barden later and grows when they pull into Beca's driveway just after sundown.
Chloe is just pushing open the garage door when she hears very clear voices from inside.
"Stacie, if you steal my star right now, I will punch you in the throat."
"But where will you get the ladder–OW!"
Grinning, Chloe steps into the living room and finds a familiar college-years sight.
The room is lit only by the large TV on the wall. Beca is slouched at one end of the couch, changed into black sweatpants and sports bra, with her feet up on the ottoman. Stacie is lounging beside her in an oversized t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts. Both of them are holding controllers and Stacie is rubbing a spot just above her collarbone, teeth gritted, while Beca glares at the screen.
"Ladies," Aubrey says as she and Chloe hang up their jackets. "I trust you're playing nice."
"Totes," Stacie rasps.
Aubrey chuckles, brushing her knuckles along Stacie's cheek as she heads for the stairs.
Chloe kicks off her shoes and rounds the back of the couch to Beca's side. "Coming in!" She flops over the back, right into Beca's lap.
"Wha– Ow, okay, hi." Beca doesn't even look away from the screen, where her little Luigi is running for his life from a bunch of Broozers. She just lifts her arms to allow Chloe to get comfortable. Which she does, snuggling down sideways so her legs are bridged over Beca's. As soon as she quits wiggling, Beca lowers her arms, hands landing on Chloe's thigh as she keeps playing.
Chloe bends her elbow and tucks it onto the cushion behind Beca's shoulder so she can rest her head on her hand. "Are you winning?" she asks right as Luigi is launched off-screen.
Beca turns to glare at her. This close, in just the light of the TV, her deadpan stare is very amusing. Chloe rolls her lips together, biting down on them to keep from laughing right in her face.
"Ah ha, suck it," Stacie says as Bowser goes flying, leaving just Peach and her Daisy running.
Beca reaches over and smacks the controller in Stacie's hand.
"No, you bitch!" Daisy swerves perilously close to a Broozer, but Stacie manages to course correct just in time as Peach is ejected from the game. Stacie flips Beca off and dances in place as Daisy is named the winner.
Rolling her eyes, Beca turns back to Chloe. "Hi," she says again. "Good day?"
Chloe smiles and wiggles her socked feet happily. "So good! We got food, did some shopping, saw one of my favorite movies. It was awesome. It was like she never even moved away."
Beca looks down at Chloe's other hand resting in her lap. Yellow Dog is nestled in the bend of her wrist. "And who are you?" Beca says to him.
It's so unexpectedly adorable that she addresses the actual toy that Chloe is suddenly overcome with the urge to pinch Beca's cheeks and squeal. She just loves her so much.
"This is Yellow Dog." She lifts him and boops Beca's nose with his. She blinks rapidly, nose scrunching. Chloe giggles and sets Yellow Dog down on Beca's chest. "He likes you."
"Gross." Beca glares down at the stuffed toy. Then lifts a hand and scritches his little head. "Baby Beale will love him."
Oh god, it's ridiculous, but Chloe tears up immediately. Maybe it's just been an emotional day or maybe her hormones are already going wild. Maybe she's just been holding back these happy tears too long. Whatever the reason, Chloe blinks and feels a tear slide down her cheek.
And maybe Beca just happens to look up then or maybe she's alerted by some sixth sense. Maybe they're so close that she could feel Chloe's breath stutter.
The light from the TV paints most of Beca's face in bright colors, but her eyes are darker. Softer. There's a long moment where she just stares. Chloe already knows the exact expression that is about to cross Beca's face: furrowed brow, tensing and releasing jaw muscles, wide eyes. It's a look she's seen many times and usually means Beca is rapidly trying to decide how she's supposed to be reacting. It's always followed by nervous tics and fluttering, unsure hands.
But none of that happens. Beca just blinks. Then her head tilts sideways, against Chloe's bent arm. She raises a steady hand and the back of her fingers brush soft over Chloe's jaw, taking the tear with them
"Need anything?" she whispers. So quiet, but it's the only sound in the room for Chloe.
She shakes her head. How could she need anything when she has this?
Beca's smile is a little crooked, a little shy maybe. And it grows when Chloe tilts forward to bump their foreheads together softly.
There's the faint sound of a door closing upstairs and Chloe suddenly remembers they aren't alone. She clears her throat, pulling back and glancing past Beca. Stacie is staring very hard at the TV, her controller sitting idle in her hands.
Chloe pushes a finger into Beca's cheek to turn her back to the screen. "Go win your game in my honor."
Stacie's snort vibrates through the whole couch. "She's not winning shit. Peach just stole her last star."
"She WHAT?" Beca erupts like a mini volcano, slinging a truly impressive list of expletives at the princess onscreen.
Laughing, Chloe lays her hand on the warm skin of Beca's chest to scratch at Yellow Dog's ears. "Okay, maybe win the next game in my honor then."