With the lights out, dishes dried, and kitchen now spick and span, Amber stretches out her arms in a yawn as a faint sliver of light catches her eye. She peeps through the small crack of the door, hoping her little companion has already fallen asleep after nearly an entire day of running around the house – inside and backside – taking turns pretending to be a Jedi and a storm trooper, Yoda then Princess Leia. But she isn’t too surprised with what she finds.

“Look who’s still up.” She enters the room, widening her view of the child caught up in her own world, laying flat staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers of stars and planets on the ceiling.

The soles of her feet ache a tad bit as she walks in, just enough to remind her of how the years have been catching up on her endurance. And though she insists not much has changed inside from when she was younger up until now, her exhaustion can’t do much to hide the difference between twenty and thirty. Still, Amber delights in every chance she gets to play with this so-called energizer bunny. Charlie keeps her on her toes, makes her feel like a kid again. The familiarity is inevitable.

“I can’t sleep,” Charlie tells her.

“Daddy will be home soon.”

She sits up in acknowledgement. “Can I not sleep here?”

Amber sits beside the bed and places her chin on her folded arms resting on the soft purple comforter. “I know you like Daddy and Mommy’s room. But you’re a big girl now, so you have to start getting used to sleeping here. Your room’s really cool, though. Look, you even got yourself a nice dinosaur nightlight. C’mon, what’s cooler than that?”

“You bought me that,” Charlie interjects.

“Exactly. It’s so much fun here, even I’m tempted to sleep over.” She makes a playful attempt to twirl like a ballerina, garnering a giggle and a round of applause from her audience of one. “But you know I have work tomorrow, right?”

“I’m just not sleepy yet,” says the six-year-old, eyes wide open as proof. “Can you at least stay here till I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Amber responds enthusiastically. What do you wanna do?”

“Practice piano?”

“That’ll make too much noise. You might wake the neighbors.”

“It’s 9 o’clock.”

“Ten,” Amber corrects her. “And it’s a Sunday. Other kids on the block might be sleeping already… unlike this lil’ night owl.” Charlie falls into a pillow from laughing as Amber pinches her nose .

“Violin?”

Amber shakes her head. “Sorry, pumpkin. Still too loud.” She then tucks her in. “Better keep them skills on the down-low for now, or else everyone who hears is gonna get envious of how talented you are.”

“Can you sing to me, then? Daddy says it’s your hidden talent.”

Amber lets a chuckle out from under her breath. “Daddy’s a liar. When I sing, windows break and glass shatters. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Charlie swiftly shakes her head, all the while seeing through Amber’s stupid excuse. “Fine… how about… tell me a story?” Her face then lights up bright enough to make a smile she knows Amber can’t possibly say no to.

“Now that idea we can work with.”

Amber heads over to the shelf of books on the wall after messing up Charlie’s hair. “Which one do you want to hear? Let’s see… hmmm…” She browses through the many stories, not even surprised at how Charlie seems to have already read each one on her own.

That restless kid, Amber thought. No wonder she’s always bored.

Finally, Amber finds her favorite. “What about Little Red Riding Hood? You know, Charlie, I’ve been working on my Big Bad Wolf voice. I bet you’d like to hear—“

“Not those.”

She turns around to find Charlie gesturing for her to come closer. Amber obliges and once she’s within a whisper’s distance, the child stares at her with glistening eyes before asking in a hushed tone, “Can you tell me how you and Daddy met?” She keeps her eyes locked on Amber, as if she’d been waiting years to ask that question.

Caught off guard for one moment, Amber laughs as she scrambles to regain her composure. She sits beside Charlie and caresses the little girl’s forehead as she reasons out. “Uhh, that one’s no good. It’s really boring, I’m telling you.”

Fully unamused, she heaves a long sigh. “Then do you know any good ones?”

“Right off the top of my head?” Amber asks, spacing out.

“I believe in you.” Charlie catches her off guard. Again, with a gentle smile she can’t refuse.

“Okay, then. I’ll do my best,”

“Once there was a llama named Stitch,” she began. “She was the coolest, most ferocious llama ever.

One day, she met a dog named Snoopy. She thought he was a total dork at first, but it turns out, he was a special kind of dork.  A very smart and talented dork. Still a dork, though. And then they became really close, which was surprising because Stitch—“

“Snoopy!” Charlie then leaped out from under the sheets, jumping up and down on the bed in her favorite silk pyjamas, as if the word was an answer to a question that landed her a million dollars. “That is how you met Daddy!”

“What? No. This is a fable, Charlie. A fable is a story about animals.”

“Humans are animals.”

The annoying banter was all too familiar, Amber thought, as she reasoned out. “I told you, this is the story of a dog and a llama. Now do you want me to continue or—”

“I was right, though, yes?” Charlie inquires, finally sitting down, catching her breath while leaning against the headboard. Still beaming from curiosity, or more likely, certainty.

“Right about what?”

“Daddy says my name is Charlie because of Charlie Brown and Charlie Brown’s best friend is Snoopy. Daddy says he’s Snoopy. That’s why I’m Charlie!” She finishes off with a grin.

Amber sighs in surrender, she too with a soft smile of her own. “You’re right, Charile Brown,” she says as she’s flashed with a look of triumph. Just like his.

More than content with her excellent deduction, Charlie tucks herself back under the comforter, one cheek pressed against a pillow. Amber then asks her, “Do you like your name?”

“I do,” she nods happily. “Even though the kids at school make fun of me for having a boy’s name. I still like it.”

“Well,” says Amber, “since you’re a girl and it’s your name, then it’s a girl’s name too, just as much as it’s a boy’s.”

“That’s what I told them,” she replies, eyes closed and with confidence.

“Atta girl. Gimme five! Charlie then raises her tiny hand to meet Amber’s palm.

Then, she finally lets out a long-anticipated yawn. And opening her sleepy eyes, she murmurs softly, “But I do have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why does Daddy say he’s Snoopy when everyone calls him Henry? Is he lying?”

“No. No, he’s not.”

“Then why doesn’t anyone call him that?”

“I call him that. It’s his nickname from back when we were kids.” And there’s a hint of embarrassment that escapes Amber’s reply, but by now, drowsy little Charlie Lau can’t even tell.

“So it IS you! You’re Stitch.” Still with shock, though, she fights to keep her eyes open and her pitch high in surprise.

“Nuh uh.”

“Come on. You’ve been giving me llama plushies since my first birthday.”

“Stitch can be a llama’s name, or an alien experiment’s name, or a—“

“You’re Stitch,” Charlie cuts her off with a yawn. Finally shutting her eyes, she smothers one of her many stuffed llamas in a tight embrace, slowly soothing herself into sleep. She leaves wakefulness mumbling, “Please continue the sto—“

“Well that battery got… drained,” Amber muses as she leans closer to kiss the child’s forehead. “Goodnight, Charlie.”

And as soon as Amber grabs her phone to check the time, she’s greeted by a soft knock on the still-half-open door.

“Oh hey. Right on cue,” she greets him as he slips his head through the crack to take a look at his sleeping child. “Shhh…” Amber gestures, her index fingers against her lips, imploring him not to make a noise as she dashes out the door and closes it behind them.

“I didn’t hear any loud squealing, so I figured she must have already been sleepy at that point,” says a fair-faced Henry, standing in front of Amber in a casual midnight blue suit.

“That point? How long have you been standing here?” Amber pulls him further away from Charlie’s bedroom door before continuing in a normal volume. “And, how was the date?”

The date. Yes. This night marks Henry’s first one out with a woman in more than five years. Being a widower at such a young age, his life ever since Sunhee’s death has been solely devoted to raising Charlie the best way he can, sacrificing his long-time musical career just to make sure she grows up feeling whole. Seeing his life revolve around juggling that goal in mind with having to run his own restaurant by day, all his friends– or at least, the few true ones who’ve remained even after his retreat from his old social circles– know what the past five years has looked like for him. So when Amber received a message from Henry yesterday asking her a favor, she didn’t even think twice.

“No, not even two minutes. And what date?” Henry replied, eyebrows furrowed.

Amber stares at him for a while, mouth agape in confusion. “Are you freaking serious now? What do you mean, what date? You had me babysit your kid while you were gone nearly the entire afternoon right until ~not even two minutes~ ago. Your exact words were,” she pauses to take her phone out and read the message, ‘Hey Amber, can you cover for me? I got date plans.’”

Henry keeps silent, showing her instead an apologetic grin, much to Amber’s frustration.

“What, seventeen years of friendship and you decide to start keeping secrets from me now? Spill, Lau.”

“Yeah,” he avoids eye contact. “Little bit of an issue with that…”

Amber raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’s all up in the air. I-“

“You did something,” Amber cuts him off, arms folded and brows knitted, trying to read his eyes. “How did you mess it up?”

“Well, I haven’t messed anything up… yet,” he tells her truthfully. “I haven’t really done anything. Haven’t even asked her.”

Suddenly recalling how difficult it must be for him, a more empathetic Amber glances at her watch before letting out a deep sigh.  “Okay, gameplan: I’m not even going to ask you where you’ve been or what you’ve been up to the past nine hours or so but whatever, 10PM is not the time to channel your inner shy teenage boy. If you’re gonna call her, then do it now before she goes to bed. Normal people have a bedtime on Sundays, Henry. And geesh, you really need to get your circadian rhythm fixed. You’re rubbing off on your daughter and it’s unhealthy. Alright, you game?”

“I—“

“Game!” Amber cheers as she motions toward the living room to give him privacy. “Ay’t. Now go call her. I can stay the night and watch over Charlie. And the house. I got it.”

“I should call her?” he asks, trailing behind.

 “Henry, this is the first time you’ve been really interested in anyone since…”

“I know.”

“That means you must really like her,” she lets out, her hand gripping his shoulder in affirmation before falling back to her side.

“I do.” And as if by reflex, her eyes turn away with his reply. “But right now? You sure about this? Amber, it’s nearly 11PM. On a Sunday.”

“No shi*, Sherlock.” She stares at him flippantly before focusing her eyes on the phone in his hand. “Call her.”

Henry takes one deep breath.

“I’ll call her,” he says, still with an inquiring tone.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” Half jokingly, she attempts to grab his phone, but Henry catches her wrist with one hand and slides his phone unlocked with the other.

“Oh my god stop. No. Okay. I will. I will. I’m calling,” he feigns annoyance, but a laugh gives him away. “See,” he lets go of her hand and clears his throat, this time with all seriousness. “I’m calling her.”

Along with two thumbs up, she gives him a reassuring smile. That at least she can manage. But for one reason or another, Amber feels some kind of weight pulling down on that smile. Nonetheless, she brushes it off.

“Relax. It’ll be okay. You look great,” she concedes, handing him the rare compliment. And it was no lie.

“I do? Should I send her a photo?”

“Ew, no. That’s weird. I meant, when she sees you. Who could turn down a guy dressed up all nice and dapper like th—“

And out of the blue, a shrill ringing from her back pocket jolts Amber into a shock.

“It’s ringing!” Henry whispers ecstatically to her while her pocket vibrates to the annoying sound of an old telephone ringtone.

“Yeah,” she tries to keep calm, her face muscles numb as she speaks and her entire body frozen in disbelief. “GREAT. Yeah, what? a coincidence… my phone also happens to be… ringing?”

She closes her eyes and collects herself. “Why is my phone ringing?”

Henry nods. “Maybe… you should answer it.”

“Oh no,” she refuses, with sarcastic modesty. “That would be rude. You’re on a call. Mine can wait.”

“Oh but she’s not picking up yet,” Henry insists, struggling to keep up his poker face. “Go ahead, don’t be rude to the caller.”

 “Henry, I think you dialed the wrong number.”

Henry takes a look at the screen, unwavering. “Nope, it says her name. This is definitely hers. And don’t mind me. Pick up your phone, girl.”

Thoroughly unamused, Amber swipes her screen in hopes of finally ending the most emotionally bewildering minute of her life.

 “Hello?”

Right in front of her, Henry places his hand over his phone. “OH MY GOD SHE PICKED UP,” He hyperbolically whispers before bringing it back. “Heyyy. It’s Henry.”

 “I know,” an annoyed Amber speaks into her phone. “Could you tell me what. is. going. on.”

“Nothing. I just. I’ve been thinking, that’s all.”

“Really?” Still exasperated, she holds it in, keeping up the charade.

“About you. For quite some time now.”

Exhausted, Amber attempts to hang up.

“Please don’t hang up!” He desperately asks over the phone, while looking into her eyes right in front of him. Speaking slowly and devoid of any hint of joking, he continues.

“It took so much to get me to this exact point. My best friend had even had to fight me into it just now.”

She keeps the phone pressed against her cheek.

“Listen. I know you must be very tired and that you have work tomorrow, but shot in the dark, can a gentleman ask a lady if she’s free tonight?”

Then, an honest guffaw spills out of Amber as she hears his proposition. “I’m sorry,” she says as she holds in the stream of laughter before covering her phone and whispering, “What the hell?”

Henry ignores her making fun of him. “Hello? Are you there? Is something wrong?”

Amber rolls her eyes. “Look, Mr. gentleman,” she finally gathers herself. “This ‘lady’ is in her sweats and a hoodie she hasn’t washed in weeks. She’s got a pile of paperwork waiting on her desk for tomorrow. Plus, she is inclined to assume that this gentleman has a grade-schooler to watch over and bring to school tomorrow as well. Therefore, I would argue that now wouldn’t be the best time for a fancy dinner out.”

“I see. I see. But what if this gentleman tells her that despite how dashing he looks in his suit as we speak,” he raises her an eyebrow, “all he wishes is to take the lady out to watch Finding Nemo over some hot Cheetos and Boba, and more importantly, that he doesn’t care what the lady looks like… or smells like. He’s used to it.”

“Out means out, Henry. Your daughter isn’t Kevin McCallister. You can’t leave her home alone.”

“Not if out means the garage I spent seven hours trying to turn into a makeshift drive-in movie theater.”

“Henry,” she says over the phone after pausing, deep in thought as she stares back at him.

He answers hopefully. “Amber?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for seventeen years.”

And then, a pause just long enough to be uncomfortable.

Troubled, Amber keeps her gaze steady. “If I say no?”

He nods. “We’re free people. It’ll hurt like a bitc*, but you’ve put me through worse.”

Worse, he recalls, they way Amber decided to end things once upon a time because he wanted kids and she couldn’t. Worse, each time some new stranger came into her life and swept her away. Worse, how, despite all that, she’s never really left him.

And maybe what’s worst is that he still managed to smile as he said it.

But she he hangs up.

“I’m sorry, we’re too old for this,” she says to his face.

And he was wrong.

This hurt the worst.

 “I should get going.” Amber hurriedly picks up her things on the countertop and heads for the front door. Back turned against him, she stops in her tracks. “Sorry for all this. Really.”

“Don’t be,” he says under his breath and she can’t hear.

She looks over her shoulder to face him.

“You left your car keys,” he speaks louder.

 “Yeah I’m getting picked up.”

“You’re calling a cab?”

“No,” Amber shakes her head. “Someone.”

“Oh," he says, stunned. “Oh, I understand. I’m so sorry. I thought--”

“Yeah, we’re actually seeing a movie,” she says in an apologetic tone, face down.

Henry nods. “Seriously?” he manages to ask, in complete pain and disbelief.

“I’m sorry. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure about it at first.”

Henry keeps nodding, hearing Amber’s words salt his wounds.

 “But then he offered me boba and hot Cheetos. So I thought, let’s see where it goes, give it another shot.”

Wait. "What?"

“You might know him,” Amber then faces him, hiding the smile forming at her lips.

Confused and livid, he asks her, “Wh-What’s his name?”

And Amber walks toward him before stopping only when she’s close enough for her to whisper, “Snoopy, you idiot,” with a sheepish smile that widens even more as she sees the moment of realization spreading an electric shock across Henry’s face.

“Race you to the garage?” she asks him.

“It’s on, Stitch.”

And back inside, Charlie dreams of Snoopy and Stitch, though little does she know that just past her bedroom door, the story she wants to hear is already being continued.