Chapter 5
As we climbed the stairs, a sense of gentle excitement stirred within me, akin to a subtle flutter in my heart. The moment we reached his parents' apartment and paused at the doorway, there was an air of anticipation. Miles looked at me, his lips forming a smile as he reminded me, "Hey, Gwanda, remember not to use my parents’ first names.”
Returning his smile, I couldn’t help but play along, "Oh, did I accidentally call them by name?" I raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my tone. The memory of that party, when Miles' mother joined our conversation and I casually used her first name, was still fresh in my mind. Miles sighed, a playful roll of his eyes accompanying the gesture. I couldn't help but chuckle.
The anticipated moment arrived, and we knocked on the door. Rio swung it open, her voice carrying her signature warmth, "Mijo, why the knocking?" She leaned in to plant a kiss on Miles' forehead before her gaze landed on me, standing just behind him.
"You must be the young lady who wore my son's jacket. Gwen, right?" Her tone held a recognition of our previous encounter.
I returned her smile, a sense of surprise lingering that Rio remembered me from that day. "Yeah, it's me. Hey, Mrs. Morales. It's good to see you."
She chuckled softly, a glint of humor in her eyes. "Ah, someone finally didn't use my name." Her comment felt like a whispered connection.
Miles looked between us, his brown eyes wide with curiosity. He turned to his mother, a hopeful smile on his lips. "Hey Mami, did you make dinner today?"
Rio smiled fondly at her son, and said, "Of course I did! Come on in, I’m sure you're hungry." She gestured for us to enter their home.
Miles turned his attention to me, this large and contagious smile still illuminating his face. I caught his gaze and waited for his cue in my eyes.
"Uh, come on in." his gesture to greet me in their space. Upon entering, we were greeted by the delightful scent of cooking wafting through the air. Miles slipped off his jacket and hung it near the door without any effort.
Rio was setting plates on the table, and I followed Miles to take a seat, our places side by side. As we settled in, conversation flowed naturally, punctuated by laughter. Miles and his parents exchanged stories, his jokes injecting a lightness that resounded in each of us, and I tried to meld into the atmosphere.
Yet, when I glanced in the direction of Miles' mother, I detected a contemplative gaze upon me.
In the middle of the chatter, Rio's voice was raised above, a question aimed directly at me, "Gwen, where do you live?"
"I'm from Chelsea." I answered.
Rio nodded, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Chelsea, huh? Have you lived there your whole life?" Her genuine interest made me feel at unease.
"I lived there my whole life," I replied. Rio leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “So, I heard you and Miles have been friends for a while now. How did you meet?” I took a deep breath, considering how to best explain the serendipitous encounter that brought Miles and me together. “Well, At school, we met and he crashed into me. We’ve been friends ever since.”
"Ah, I see.” Rio's smile radiated a warmth that wrapped around us, leading her to venture,
"So, tell me, what do you admire most about my son?" her curiosity evident, I couldn't help but feel a deep respect for the woman who had raised someone awesome like Miles. I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts before responding.
“ I really love his art. He never gives up, no matter how hard things get. He’s faced tough challenges but always finds a way to overcome them. ”
As we talked, I realized that expressing my admiration for Miles was a real reflection of the connection we had and the admiration I had for the person.
The rest of the dinner went with an underlying discomfort. When we were finished, Jeff agreed to do the cleanup.
Rio's voice broke the silence, offering a remedy for the discomfort. "Shall we move to the living room?" Her idea was a lifeline, bringing us away from the tense atmosphere at the table. "I have a collection of Miles' childhood pictures there," she said to lighten the mood.
"Mom, you always bring out the same album whenever someone comes over," Miles complained, his tone tinged with displeasure.
"I'd love to see those pictures," I said with a genuine grin.
We dove into the beautiful pages filled with stunning photos from different parts of Miles’ amazing life. Each image served as a precious time capsule, offering a tantalizing glimpse into his formative years and invoking a unique sense of charm. Miles' endearingly innocent nature emanated from each picture, captivating our hearts. Rio's joy was so strong that you could almost feel her pride and love through her eyes. It was in these moments that a truly special bond began to take shape between mother and son, deepening with every passing second. As I got lost in the captivating stories and pictures, my interest in Miles only grew. Rio leaned closer to Miles, their hushed whispers reverberating through the air and resonating with my heightened senses.
"Mijo, it's clear you have feelings for her," her whispered words hit me like a gentle yet undeniable truth.
My heart was pounding and time seemed to stand still when I heard her sincere words. I had a feeling that we both felt the same way, but hearing it said out loud like that was really overwhelming. I tried to stay calm so that no one would know I heard what she said. Before I could even react or catch Miles’ gaze, he quickly got up and went to his room, shutting the door.
A feeling of shock and unease filled the room. I looked back at Rio, who was looking at me with worry. "I apologize," she said, her voice carrying a gentle reproach. It was evident that she hadn't intended to embarrass us.
"Miles is my treasure, and all I want is for him to be happy. But sometimes, I struggle to understand what's going on with him." Feeling a wave of empathy for Rio, I reached out and placed my hand reassuringly on hers. "I understand, Mrs. Morales. It's just... unexpected." Her eyes softened, a gesture to ease the tension.
"I never properly thanked you for bringing him home," she continued, trying to change the direction of the conversation.
"It was nothing, really," I replied, trying to downplay my role in bringing Miles home. "I just wanted to make sure he was safe."
Rio nodded, a grateful smile playing on her lips. "Well, thank you. You’ve been a good friend to him, and I appreciate that."
Silence settled between us, the weight of Miles' sudden departure hanging in the air. I couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to react so strongly to his mother's words.
After a few moments, Rio spoke again, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "I'm sorry if I've put you in an uncomfortable position. It's just that... I worry about Miles. I see how much he cares about you, and I want to make sure he doesn't let his fear hold him back."
I nodded, understanding the depth of a mother's concern for her child. "I understand, Mrs. Morales. And I care about Miles too. I just hope he knows that."
Rio's eyes softened, a flicker of hope shining through. "I think he does." As we sat there, lost in our own thoughts and uncertainties. With a nod, she suggested, "Maybe you should check on him. I'll take care of the cleaning."
Standing up from the couch, I made my way towards Miles' room, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As I reached his door, I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what I would find on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I gently knocked on the door, hoping that Miles would let me in
"Miles?" I called, unease in my voice. I didn't hear a response from him. I slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, revealing that he was not there. My worry grew. My eyes fixed on the open window. He was gone.