The rest of the evening drifted by somewhat quickly. Matt and I spent most of it in comfortable silence, watching another movie, an extremely mediocre superhero film, then decided to head to bed.

Morning came quickly, though I did link senses with Cass again before I went to sleep. I also let her in on the enjoyment of eating my chili, which she said she liked, though spicy food was apparently not her thing.

[It’s just pain!] she protested.

‘No, it adds flavour!’ I assured her.

The debate was relatively short lived, though, and soon, the both of us fell into a slumber.

Eventually, I was woken up by the sharing being revoked again. The hypersensitivity at the start felt bad, but honestly, after getting used to it a bit more, maybe the numbness at the end was something I could live with. To some degree it did kinda feel like the whole world was a little more distant. It put me in a strange state of mind though, that much I knew.

After a couple moments of waiting, though, sound and feel all returned back to normal, and I set about making breakfast. This time, I decided to keep things simple, just prepping some oatmeal and cutting in some fruits and nuts, as well as a spoonful of jam each in a bowl for me and another for Matt.

By the time he was up, his food had gone from hot to barely warm, and I was already finished with my portion.

“Sleepy Rabbit, huh?” I teased, smiling.

He rubbed at one of his eyes. “Urrrrgh,” he groaned instead of a reply, voice still raspy.

“Not a morning person?” I asked, my tone chipper.

I could feel his eyes bore into my back. Of course I knew the answer to that question. We travelled a lot back on Eden. Well, then again, some people had very different sleeping habits between there and here.

Emilia, for example, slept like a rock on Eden, while over on this side, she was actually borderline an insomniac. She told me it was so bad, that sometimes, even when the time difference didn’t match properly, she’d go to Eden to sleep a consistent four hours, rather than basically being unwillingly awake for eight hours over here.

When I shook my head to clear it of unruly thoughts, Matt had begun eating his serving.

“Tastes good,” he praised. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, Rabbit. If you need it any sweeter, I got rice or maple syrup, or you can add sugar or jam of course.”

“Wish we had jiaberry jam this side,” he complained absent-mindedly.

“Heh. Once we hit the upper teens in levels we might consider that luxury.”

“Pfff, as if,” Matt laughed. “You know we’d get better gear or more Skills.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let a girl dream, Rabbit.”

He shrugged. “Plenty of time for that at night,”

I stuck out my tongue at him, not deigning him with an answer, and the kitchen fell silent again. The nice kind.

While he was eating I also went down to pick up all the other things we’d ordered, mainly board games, as well as some snacks. Matt had insisted on me getting some of the ones from his hometown. He’d wanted to bring some, but didn’t find the time. Too busy with “family things”.

A situation I was somewhat familiar with.

As if on command, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a short buzz, only for a moment, the kind that I only allocated to my mom. She texted me so damn often that even the default vibration length could get incredibly annoying, so a tiny bit was all she got to grab my attention.

Only once I was back upstairs did I look at her messages.

One was still from two days ago, which I had forgotten about after going out with Jules.

“Tomorrow at twelve, at my house, would be alright for me.” - 2 days ago, 14:15.

“Fiona?” - 2 days ago, 15:54.

The horizontal bar that separated the days followed, then another message.

“Will you be coming?” - yesterday, 11:32.

“I shall assume you will not be, then.” - yesterday, 12:45.

Another horizontal bar.

“Is there a reason why you’re being like this? Stop it.” - today, 9:23.

Fuck.

I had entirely forgotten I told my mom I’d have time yesterday. Granted, the confrontational tone wasn’t something I appreciated, but I at least felt like she deserved an answer.

“Sorry, mom. I completely forgot about it; my phone was on mute and I didn’t check it. I currently have a friend over for a few days. Would yuo like to meet him?” - today, 9:27.

“You misspelled you.” - today 9:28.

I rolled my eyes, editing my previous message.

“Yes, I would like to meet this “friend” of yours. You are free to bring him along.” - today, 9:28.

“Why don’t you come visit for once? I’m home right now.” - today, 9:29.

“What do you mean I’m gonna meet your mom, too?!” Matt asked, shook at my suggestion.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Stop overreacting, you’ll be fine!”

“Fio, your mom is a dragon. You need to find a legendary hero to deal with her, not send poor cannon fodder peasants like me into the fray!”

“Oh, shut up!” I laughed, chuckling at his silliness.

My mom did eventually answer, though it took uncharacteristically long.

“Would you like me to?” she texted.

“As long as Butterfly comes along.”

“Yes, I will invite your sister. Whether she’d like to come is up to her.”

“Alright, see you soon, then,” I answered.

For a brief few moments I considered something. I’d been redecorating. My mother loved making art. Maybe I could ask her to paint something on one of my walls?

I shook my head, putting the thought aside for now.

My mother was many things. She was a bit of a hoarder, she was confident, she was stubborn, she was controlling, and right now, she barely earned the right to see my flat at all.

I knew she came in here when I was gone. I knew she did it just to clean. I knew she sometimes took the money I left lying around. I was unsure if she thought I was paying her or just taking it or if she was trying to steal or if she thought of it as a game.

We’d never brought it up with each other. Not once. I hoped she spent the money on paint.

But whether that was true or not, she did come into my space. To clean, sure, but I hadn’t asked for it. This was the first time in a long while I was even inviting her here. Now that it felt a little more like my space.

She came here before, when I was still moving in, and complained about how “dreadfully empty” it was. Ever since then, I hadn’t extended an invitation, and she hadn’t asked for one.

This was me giving her a chance. To see the changes and be positive.

I already knew that I was going to weigh her words harshly. She hated it when I did that, when I judged her for what she actually said. Always wanted me to intuit her intent, then judge that, because she meant well.

To me, whether she meant well didn’t matter as much as whether she said kind things, sometimes, and she rarely said kind things. If she could pull herself together and take the last shreds of positivity in her heart and be kind about things, maybe, just maybe I’d dedicate a spot on the wall for her to paint.

But until then, she had to be nice for once. About my clothing, about my flat, about Matt. I hoped it wouldn’t prove as much of a challenge as I thought it might. Surely that wouldn’t be so hard.

I waited in anticipation to see how things would turn out.

- - -

It took a bit for my mom to show up. I imagined most of that time was spent on her getting ready, given that the drive barely took any time usually, but I might’ve been wrong. Regardless, she eventually showed up and rang the doorbell.

By that time it was already late morning, and she would only get the chance to stay for a few hours until Matt and I headed out for the get-together. I hoped she would be able to just be normal for that little bit.

I clicked the buzzer on my doorbell, opening the front for them, then waited until there was a knock on my flat door to unlock it. Immediately, I was greeted by the sight of Butterfly, wearing a thick winter jacket, as well as a bright red scarf around her neck. She smiled brightly at me, though it was kind of hard to tell through the winter gear.

“Fio!” she said excitedly, already leaping at me and I caught her, quickly picking her up and putting her back down inside my flat. Then I turned to face my mother.

“Heya, mom,” I said. She was dressed in dark clothing, the mix of greys highlighting her piercing green eyes even more. She eyed me up and down. I’d not put in a lot of effort today, wearing a comfortable brown sweater that showed one of my shoulders, and a simple grey shirt underneath, as well as a pair of jeans. I’d brushed my hair, but not much more.

In comparison, my mother wore make-up. Dark lipstick and faint eyeliner, so on and so forth. Her hair was tied back into a bun, and I was pretty sure that every single strand of hair on her head obeyed her, bound back tightly.

“Fiona. You really should-”

I interrupted her, stepping to the side a little. “Long time no see, mom. This is Matt, a friend from work.”

She paused her talking, mid sentence, then stared at me. “I don’t appreciate you interrupting me,” she stated.

“Mom, I’m introducing you to someone. I think it’s generally considered rude not to tell him your name.” My shoulders slumped, already bothered by her.

“Hello ma’am. My name is Matt. Been working with Fio for a while now, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Despite my own gripes with the situation, the young man next to me put on a pleasant smile, giving a slight bow with one hand behind his back, extending the other to shake my mom’s hand.

For a few long seconds she simply eyed his hand, then nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name is Agatha. Is Matt short for anything?”

“Yes, my full name is Matthew. No one really calls me that, though.”

“Make that one person, Matthew,” she said, then stepped into the flat. I saw Matt tense up a little.

During the entire exchange, Butterfly’s eyes flitted back and forth between the three of us. She’d not even started taking off her winter clothing yet.

“Feel free to hang your jacket up there,” I said, pointing to the wall-mounted coat hanger in the entrance. A couple spots were already occupied by my own things, but there was more than enough space for theirs, too.

My mom first slipped out of her heels, then hung up her clothes, before taking those of Beth from the kid’s hands. She was still a little too small, and mom didn’t want her standing on furniture, apparently. A minute later, we stepped out of the entry room into the flat proper.

In the middle of it, I scooped up Butterfly, letting her sit on my shoulders, though I had to duck a little. Her laugh made every second worth it.

“Just head to the kitchen,” I told mom. “I’ll be right there.”

She acknowledged it with a nod, and started stepping forward, when her eyes immediately caught onto my new decor. I hadn’t hung the spear in the entrance hallway, so at least that wasn’t an issue, but she saw the posters. For a few moments, I saw her trailing a finger across the top of them.

Her eyes filled with a bit of surprise at the material. “Are these made of metal?” she asked.

“Sure are,” I said.

“Hm.” Without further comment, she spun around and headed to the kitchen, where she sat down.

“Whoa! They’re so bright! They’re awesome, Fio!” Butterfly said. “How do they make those?”

I couldn’t help but smile, then shook her a bit. “Well, Beth, I don’t quite know. I’m reasonably sure it’s stamped onto the metal then sealed with some kind of coating.”

“That’s even more awesome!” she cheered, and my smile grew wider.

Despite my mom waiting in the kitchen, I did take Beth into the living room for a second, quickly throwing her up into the air and catching her again, then settling her down. “I’ve got a couple more here, wanna look at them?”

“Yes!” she said, smile beaming up at me.

I heard Matt join my mom in the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine. He didn’t talk during it, just letting my mom sit in silence for the few minutes it took me to show my little sister around. By the end of the tour around the living room, she’d picked out a few of her favourites, saying which she loved most.

The spear was in my bedroom, so I hadn’t exactly shown her that yet. We’d get there.

Before that, I finally sat down at the kitchen table. My mom and Matt already waited, coffee in front of the older woman, while the young man sipped on some tea. They both looked incredibly distinguished, Matt somehow matching my mom’s high class fashion despite only wearing a T-shirt. How was his posture so perfect?

I scrunched my eyebrows at him in a silent question, and he gave me a small shrug, rolling his shoulders. Then I rolled my eyes at him, and the faintest of smiles bloomed on his face.

“Would you like some juice, Butterfly?” I asked.

“Yes please.”

“Alright, is orange fine?”

“Yep!”

“With water?”

“Just straight is fine,” she said.

With a small nod, I poured myself some coffee, adding a bit of sugar and some soy milk, and a glass of orange juice for Butterfly. I sipped the drink once and let out a small sigh before finally sitting down at the table.

Then I raised my eyes, looking over my three guests. Matt gave me a faint smile of reassurance, Beth sat excitedly, sipping her juice, and my mom had her eyes closed, drinking some coffee.

There was a brief silence between us.

“You finally decided to bring some colour into your flat,” my mom eventually noted.

I shrugged. “Sure did.”

“That’s good. It was a bit dreary.”

“A little.”

She gave me a small nod, not talking about it any further.

“So, Matthew, how long have you known Fiona?”

The conversation moved on.