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"Not you! Tell your daughter to stop running before she hurts herself."
"Okay, dear. Giselle?"
"Yes, daddy?" she'd said in her small voice, halting mid-run.
"You, she replies to!" said Rose, folding her arms.
"That's because she loves me more." He'd turned to Giselle. "Right, honey?"
"No," she remembered saying, "it's because you give me candy!"
Her mother had gasped. "Abbott!"
Giselle blinked, the flashback of bittersweet memories ending with a pang in her heart. Heaving a sigh, she walked inside her room, closed the door behind her, and the pink walls greeted her.
She had two plans for the day. The first one was to visit her mother's grave, but she didn't want to go with her father. She had an unrealistic image of him stored inside her head and didn't care how unreasonable she was for wanting him to never break down. Because if she saw him cry, she didn't trust herself to keep it together.
The second plan was to meet Xavier. She let out a long breath, excitement starting to settle in. Pulling her phone out from her backpack, she sent him a message.
Giselle: I've arrived. Let's meet.
Xavier: I was wondering why it was getting easier to breathe in Petrichor.
She grinned at her phone.
Giselle: Stoppp. Where are you?
Xavier: Guess where.
At their secret spot. It was a few blocks away from the park where they'd eye each other. She'd see him every year she used to visit Petrichor with her family. Xavier had later told her over text, once they became friends, that he'd memorized the dates of her yearly visits to his village just so he could see her at the park.
Giselle: I'll be there in thirty minutes.
Xavier: Can't wait to see you, my love.
She bit her lip. Her phone buzzed again, and she opened it to see who it was.
Chris: Reached, Pigtails?
Giselle: Reached, Worry-bat.
She placed the phone on her bed, searched her bag, and took out the blue sweater Chris had gifted her on her twenty-second birthday. She paired it with blue jeans and started getting ready. Her hands shook a little when she put on her jewelry and applied soft makeup. She wore her outfit and braided her hair to the side, then stood in front of the mirror, examining her reflection.
Satisfied with the way she looked, she slipped into her flip-flops, grabbed her phone, and headed out of her room to eat lunch.
Once seated on the wooden dining table with her father, she gobbled down the food. Mrs. Whitman had made rice with fried chicken, and it was every bit as delicious as her mother used to make.
"Are you going somewhere?" asked Abbott.
Her voice shook a little, "Oh, um, just going out for a walk. The weather is nice. I might catch up with someone..."
He eyed her. "I didn't know you had friends here."
"Oh, they're not friends," she said with her mouth full, not entirely lying. "I just know them from our visits here every year."
"Right, right." They ate in silence for a few moments, then he casually said, "What about your mother?"
Blood rushed to her cheeks. "I'll be there after you get back. Um, I wanna visit her by myself... If that's okay."
