Soon we were on our way home in Kai’s white Corvette Stingray.

“Do you have shoes to match your dress?” Kai asked casually while never taking his eyes off the road.

“I was planning on wearing my nude heels. That way no matter which dress I bought, they would match. Why?”

“Since I don’t work tomorrow or Monday either, I was going to offer to take you shopping again,” he said as we pulled into our garage.

“I work the closing shift tomorrow and Monday, and I don’t need new shoes, but if you don’t have plans tomorrow we could find something to do during the day.”

I held the door that led inside of the house open for him.

“Thanks for coming out with me today,” I said.

“No problem,” he replied as he walked ahead of me. “I had a lot of fun.” He turned back to look at me and winked playfully before ascending the stairs. I hadn’t seen him this happy since—no, I wouldn’t think about it.

It sounded like he was halfway up the stairs when he said, “I’m going to be in my room. I have to finish working on a client’s website tonight. I promised them it would be live by tomorrow morning.”

Despite living together, spending time with Kai was always a rarity, even before I spiraled into my depression. However, when we did hang out it was always enjoyable. In addition to going to college full-time, he also worked full-time hours at his Dad’s design firm, both remotely and in office. His Dad’s firm was called Bell Tree Designs, which was funny because their surname was Suzuki, and in kanji that read as bell tree in English. There were times he did freelance work on the side as well, but I didn’t know whether those clients were the firm’s or his own.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs his bedroom door was closed, as I had expected it to be. Whenever Kai was working on a big project, he’d close his door. Although I was never sure whether it was so he wouldn’t bother me, I wouldn’t bother him, or perhaps a little of both.



When I pulled the second dress out of the bag, I knew it was Kai’s doing. I shook my head, grateful and not at all surprised. That guy. Tsk. He was always doing little things to surprise me. Somehow, I'd have to find a way to return the gesture. Like not abandoning him again, my conscience scolded me.

I hung the dresses in my closet and took a minute to appreciate them. Then, not wanting to disturb Kai, I scrawled a quick thank you note and taped it to his door. He would find it when he was done with whatever he was working on and read it at his leisure.

Not knowing what else to do, I resigned myself to start working on my homework. I grabbed my school bag—a designer bag that Kai had bought me for my birthday earlier this year. It was a St. Scott London convertible bag that could be used as a purse or a backpack, which was how I had been using it since I received it. I wasn’t sure if calling such an expensive purchase practical was nonsensical, but I loved it and used it primarily for school. I pulled out my notebook, set it in front of my laptop, and settled into my studies.

About three hours later I was done with my homework and Kai still hadn’t come out of his room, although it was nearly dinner time. I heard the furious clicking of his laptop keys and decided to go ahead and cook dinner. If he didn’t come out of his room by then, I would take a plate up to him.

I decided to make oven chicken after looking in the refrigerator and pantry to see what ingredients we had available. It was something fast and simple that Kai’s mom had taught me to make. I smiled at the memory of mama, as Kai’s mom liked for me to call her, taking the time to teach me her recipes over the years. She had become extremely zealous about passing her recipes on after I moved in with Kai. In retrospect, she was probably trying to keep both of us busy so that neither of us would get lost in the grief that we never displayed. Her efforts were not for nothing because even though I still withdrew into myself, I now held a plethora of Suzuki family recipes in my head.

As I checked on the progress of the chicken, Kai sauntered into the kitchen.