With this, we pretty much break all contact with Romain or Marie. We hear from Charlotte and Shanna that their wedding was postponed, but it’s pretty clear that we were un-invited anyways.
We don’t let that get to us, even though for Hugo it does mean he’s lost his best and oldest friend. He tries to convince me that I am his best friend, but we both know he’s trying to make me feel better.
Anyway, we keep on going. Thankfully, Pari is there to bring some joie de vivre. And most importantly she knows nothing about our old group of friends and this distance is just what we need at the moment.
She’s also pretty great at helping with house chores.
Hugo comes home as Romain is eating the plate Pari gave him. As the old bros they are, they immediately start chatting, and Pari and I leave them alone for a minute.
Nothing had prepared me for hearing sudden yells from the dinner table.
Hugo and Romain are shouting at each other, a drink gets thrown at somebody’s face, and for the first time since we were kids, they have a fight. A full-blown fight. Pari and I can only watch in confusion — until I finally understand what the problem is.
I’ve never seen Hugo more hungry — including that one time by the swimming pool when we were teens.
Alerted by the noises of a fight that’s beginning, Pari and I go to check out what’s happening.
I’m not getting involved in their fight. I’m just getting ready to tell them whatever they’re fighting about, it was pretty stupid.
And then I hear it. As he’s holding the nose that Hugo probably just broke, Romain shouts ‘You had no right to take her from me!’
So that is when I intervene. And I tell Romain to get out before I make his nose worse.
We’ve been living here for a while now, but never actually tried socializing with our neighbors for some reason.
When she learns that, Pari takes it upon herself to organize a quick dinner with one of them, a young woman named Eden that she met at the mailbox.
I know Eden. Her full name is Eden Stewarts, and her mother and mine are cousins. Her mom is called Nomi, or Kimmy, I don’t remember, it was a family of triplets and I can never tell which cousin had which name. I do remember the name Nomi was intended as a contraction of Naomi, a tribute to Grandma for basically raising Nomi’s mom.
Nomi’s mom, who is Eden’s grandma. And my grandma’s sister.
Still following? Told you my family was old and complicated.
Anyway, Pari does the shopping, and the cooking, and thanks to her I get to catch up with and make a friend out of a cousin I never met.
Pari is amazed at our local fruit and vegetable stalls down in the Spice Market, and the quality of their produce. She’s amazing at haggling, too.
Amazing, I tell you.
inviting Eden to join us.
And then cooking for us with the fresh product she just bought.
And it’s really, really good, too. Pari is Wonderwoman.
She serves her own plate last, so when the doorbell rings, she goes to answer.
It’s Romain. He wasn’t invited, he came alone, and we don’t know why he’s here, but I tell Pari to let him in. Why wouldn’t he be welcome?
I wake up one day feeling absolutely awful. I don’t really know why, but my skin feels odd, I am nauseated, and everything is itchy.
Upon telling Pari that, I see her disappear into the kitchen, where she stays behind the stove for a full hour, dropping a myriad of plants and herbs she seems to be producing out of thin air into the pan.
When she’s done she pours the mixture into a glass and hands it to me with a smile. Her only explanation is “drink this, you’ll get better. Bottoms up.”
I trust her and drink it. It tastes a little like mud, a little like lavender, and I kid you not, I feel better the very second I down the last drop.
That night, when we head back home, we are not alone.
Pari, who lived in the basement of her tattoo parlor, has no place to stay, or at least, none where she would be safe. So we find a sleeping bag on the way, and we install it in a nice spot of our living room, hoping it will be comfortable enough. This is the first time we’ve ever wished for a pull-out couch.
Pari’s a great guest, and we do our best to take her mind off whatever disaster happened at her shop the best way we know how: by breaking out Mariokart.
We don’t have many things in common, but our conversations are fascinating.
She can defend herself at Mariokart. We’re still too competitive to let her win, but she scores a very honorable third place.
It’s been a year since our wedding, and while we could absolutely have gone for dinner at a fancy restaurant, Hugo and I want to go for a more… lasting experience.
So we do our research, and head to the best tattoo parlor in Oasis Springs. I’m going to get a sun, to symbolize brightness, and light, and maybe a certain beach. Hugo is going to get a stylized constellation. To be precise, the Leo — I was born in early August, see.
The parlor is mostly empty. The tattooist laughs and says she can tell we’re not from around here: there’s a party happening in the backyard of the building tonight, so everybody’s getting ready, apparently.
We tell her we can come back later, but she insists she wouldn’t have accepted the appointment if she wasn’t willing to go through with it.
Her name is Pari, Pari Ramesh, and I just love her aesthetic.
I feel like we’re going to be fast friends.
Hugo is not afraid if needles, but apparently he can’t bear seeing me go under it.
Checking myself out in the mirrors while Pari exposes the plan to Hugo.
Your turn, babe.
Suddenly, as I’m snacking in the backyard, something weird happens. People in unusual outfits raid the barely started party.
They seep into the backroom.
They are many.
It’s clear that Pari has a history with this gang of bears. They are up to no good. A fight is on the verge of breaking out.
One of them sees Pari slap a bear, and he apparently goes to call for reinforcements.
A realtor has been eyeing the karaoke club at the Spice market to turn it into some sort of posh lounge for the wealthy. Apparently, they’re into that type of spice experience, the “grunge” appeal of our district.
That is obviously out of the question. The project was canceled, but now we fear for the site’s life, so we join forces, petition, protest and shout to have it turned into a historical landmark.
Hugo, in particular, takes the fight for our karaoke bar very seriously.
And he runs into some people who also care a whole lot.
Including an old friend.
Shanna is also getting involved in community issues. She did want to get into politics after all.
On the anniversary of our first kiss, our first as a married couple, we decide to head back to the beach. By ourselves this time.
The great thing about being self-employed and/or at the very top of your firm’s hierarchy is that you get to flee for a day and not have anybody say anything about it. But it’s a weekday, so the beach is ours.
We stay all day, the perfectly sunny day, and then we let the trip bleed into the night, and we eat by the wavering flame of a candle. We remember fond memories, that already feel so long ago, yet they still fuel us.
Salsa to imaginary music on the beach.
And sensual salsa, at that.
Followed, of course, by mint ice-cream-induced brain freezes. For the waffle topping on top alone, worth it.
Mexican finger-food on the beach.
Love is when you finally agree to share your food.
‘Yes, I remember that’
This is how the night ends, because this is how all great days should end.
The top three pictures were made thanks to @roundog‘s INCREDIBLE salsa animation!
We’ve finally released the common project we started working on back in high school, and we couldn’t be prouder. It has evolved, and changed shape, and taken years, but here it is.
So tonight, we celebrate. Fine food (that we did not cook) and champagne by candlelight. We’re staying in, but we’ve dressed up. This is an occasion, but it’s also about us, and only us.
Cheers to our dream coming true!
We forbade each other from looking at our phones tonight, but I cheated. The reviews are rolling, and they’re overwhelmingly positive.
We talk about our plans. What’s next after this? Hugo says he’s done with development. He wants to focus solely on e-sports now. But he can’t wait to see what else I have in store.
I can’t wait to see what we still have in store either.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 