“Lake, honey, are you sure—”

“No, no, we can do it!” Lake insisted, waving his wife off as he stared at the instructions for the dining room set he and Bentley were trying to build. “Trust me, teacup, give us a little while longer and we’ll be eating on our brand-new dining set by the end of the night! We got this, right, son?”

“Uh, I dunno, Dad,” Bentley mumbled, staring at the chair that he had just put together. “I think I did something wrong.”

Tilda hummed in agreement, squinting at the chair, which looked all wonky and lopsided, the screws failing to fit in the holes properly. “It does look a bit…off, sweetie.”

As Lake scooted next to his son with the instructions, Basil entered through the side door holding some plastic bags, wiping her feet on the welcome mat. “Hey guys, I’m home.”

“Oh, hey Basil!” Tilda greeted her daughter. “Did you and Sam have fun at the mall?”

“Uh huh. We saw this really cool heist movie at the theater, then we went in a couple stores…” Basil trailed off, staring at her dad and elder brother. “What’re Dad and Bentley doing?”

“Oh, our new dining set came in today,” Tilda replied, glancing at Basil as she put her bags onto the counter. “Your father decided that it’d be good father-son bonding to have Bentley help him put it together.”

“Bentley putting together furniture…with Dad.” Basil turned to her mother, a near deadpan expression on her face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Unfortunately not.” Tilda sighed. “I tried to talk him out of it, but you know your father likes a challenge…”

“Dad, you know that you can hire people to put this stuff together, right?” Basil asked Lake, watching the Sinkes men hunch over the pieces of wood and metal bolts and screws.

“Why would I do that when we can save some of that cash doing it ourselves?” Lake chuckled, before looking at the chair again. “Now let’s see here—Bentley, you did use the D screws and B brackets, right?”

“You mean the B screws and D brackets?” Bentley asked, pointing to the instructions.

“What? No!” Lake snatched the paper up, squinting down at it. “See, it says here to…” He trailed off, staring at the instructions, then the chair. “Oh boy."

“We’ve been confusing them up this whole time, haven’t we?”

“Yep.” Lake sighed, looking over at the rest of the improperly built furniture. “That probably explains why everything looks weird, doesn’t it…”

“Maybe we should have ordered the kind that comes pre-built,” Basil noted, trying not to laugh at her father and brother’s misfortune. 

Tilda nodded, grabbing her purse and rummaging through it. “You know what, I’m going to get us takeout. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a while before this table gets put together.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure, I don’t see why you can’t.” Tilda got the car keys, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “What’re you in the mood for, boys?”

“Why don’t you surprise us?” Lake suggested. “There’s a lot of restaurants in the area we haven’t tried yet, you can pick whatever sounds good to you, honey.”

“I don’t care what we get,” Bentley added. “As long as—”

“No onions, extra sauce. I got you, sweetie,” Tilda chuckled. “You ready to go, Basil?”

The girls decided on a small, family-run Mexican restaurant, not too far away from where Basil had first met Samara. It was surprisingly busy for a weekday night, so Tilda sat on a bench near the counter reading a romance novel with an unrealistically beautiful couple on the cover, Basil perched next to her as she typed on her phone.

“Order number fifty-four?” The woman behind the counter rung a bell as she set a small stack of Styrofoam boxes on the counter, the smell of cooked meat and spices wafting through the air.

“Over here!” Tilda called out, putting her book back into her purse as she approached the counter. “How much do I owe, again?”

“Twenty-five seventy nine.”

Tilda handed over her debit card, tossing some bills into the tip jar while the cashier completed her transaction. “Basil? Mind taking these to the car?”

“Sure, Mom!” Basil shoved her phone in her pocket, heading to the counter and picking up the boxes. “Thank you, ma’am!”

“¡No hay problema!” The other woman smiled warmly at them, returning Tilda’s card. “Have a good rest of your night, señoritas!”

“You too!” Tilda chirped, the two girls leaving the restaurant and heading back to their car. “Well, that seemed like a nice place, didn’t it? The food sure smells good.”

“I guess, yeah.” Basil stared down at the Styrofoam boxes, seeming distracted.

Tilda was quick to notice. “Something wrong, sweetie?”

“Not really. Well, there’s nothing wrong, but—” Basil turned to her mother. “Sam invited me over to her house for a sleepover.”

The mint-haired woman froze slightly, the keys in her hand jingling as she tensed. “A sleepover?”

“Yeah. Sam’s never really had one before, and since Mr. Sylvie is taking her siblings out of town for a few days for some college tour thing, it’ll just be her and Mrs. Cansu.” Basil shifted the takeout boxes in her arms slightly so she could climb in the car, her mother doing the same. “I’ve never really been inside Sam’s place since we usually go out to do stuff, but I think it’ll be fun.”

“I—” Tilda hesitated, clenching the steering wheel tightly as she started the car. “Does Cansu know anything about this?”

Basil nodded. “She said it was okay as long as you said it was.”

“Oh.” Tilda forced herself to breathe deeply. “Look, Basil—”

“Mom, Sam isn’t like that! She’s—”

“I’m not saying that she isn’t. I’m just worried, sweetie.” Tilda pulled out of the parking lot, pulling out onto the road. “I mean, the last time you went to a sleepover—”

“I know, I know, but this time it’ll be different! It’s just going to be me and Sam, we’re not going to get into trouble…”

Tilda clenched her teeth. Her daughter did have a good point; Sam was a good girl, and she knew Cansu well, but even still…

“Look, I’ll talk with your father tonight, see what he thinks about it. But we’ll let you know, okay?”

“You alright, Tils?” Lake glanced over at Tilda, who was lying in their bed staring at the ceiling, clawing at the comforter absentmindedly.

“I…don’t know, Lake.” She sighed, sitting up and looking over at her husband. “It’s just…Sam invited Basil to her house for a sleepover.”

“Really? That’s great!” The smile on Lake’s face faded slightly upon noticing his wife’s expression. “...oh, is that why you’re…”

“It’s not that I—I want her to go, but at the same time, I don’t?” She sighed, leaning forward slightly. “I know I’m probably overreacting by thinking too much into this, but—” Tilda put her head in her hands, groaning loudly.

“I don’t think it’s overreacting,” Lake said, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Something bad happened to Basil, and you’re afraid it’ll happen again. You’re her mother, it’s normal for parents to worry about their kids.”

“But that’s just it, Lake. Back in Mieas, Basil wasn’t considered ‘normal’. At least, not by everyone else’s standards.” Worried tears pricked at her eyes. “That’s why we moved here in the first place, remember? So our Basil could finally be accepted.”

“And Basil’s been more than just accepted,” Lake said softly. “Basil’s been so different ever since she’s met this Samara girl. In a good way, that is.”

“It’s true,” Tilda admitted. “I’ve never seen Basil come out of her shell like this before. She seems a lot…happier. For the first time in a long time.”

A silence was shared between the married couple, the only noise coming from the loud punk rock music playing from Bentley’s room. There was no tension, but instead hesitation, that loomed over their heads intimidatingly, nearly thick enough to pierce through.

“I think we should let her go.” Lake was the one to cut through the silence, looking at his wife.

“Really?” Tilda still looked hesitant. “You really think so?”

“Well, we’ve met Samara, plus we already know Cansu,” he pointed out. “Basil has her phone, and Sam and her family are only a few blocks away, so she won’t be too far from home.”

“That’s…true.” The tension finally started to leave the mint-haired woman’s shoulders. “And…Basil actually wants to go this time.” She sighed, looking at her husband with a slight smile on her face. “You’re right, Lake. I mean, I can’t be worried about this forever…”

Lake chuckled, gently placing his hand on Tilda’s cheek, the couple sharing a quick kiss, resting their foreheads against each other. “It’s gonna be okay, teacup.”

“I know, Lake. I know.”

The light from the hallway filled the couple’s dim bedroom as the door opened, the creak echoing through the room as their daughter stepped in, already in her pajamas, a hairbrush in her hand.

“Hey, uh, Mom?” Basil gripped the brush’s handle tightly. “Sorry to bother you guys, but can I borrow one of your scrunchies for the night? My hair tie broke, and I can’t remember where we put the spare ones…”

“No worries, sweetie, you can take what you need!” Tilda reassured her. “We were thinking of going to get you, anyways.”

“You were?” Basil’s eyes darted between her mother and her father, looking anxious.

“Well, your father and I were talking about the sleepover you told me about,” Tilda explained. “I know your last experience with a sleepover wasn’t…the best, but if you really want to—”

“So I can go?!”

“Of course—Oof!” Lake and Tilda were caught off guard as Basil tackled her parents in a hug, her smile nearly splitting her face in half.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Basil laughed, kicking her legs excitedly. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to tell Sam, this is gonna be awesome!”

Tilda chuckled, ruffling her hair. “I’m sure it will be, sweetheart.