INTERIM LOVER, ryan howard.

038 ⋮ sister golden dungarees

CONTENT WARNING
This chapter makes mention of substance abuse. Reader discretion is advised. 

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ㅤㅤㅤIt was considerably warm for December. Bordering hot. Rachel had forgotten what LA's climate was like after not having visited for a few years. But it wasn't long until she picked up her pace, striding with purpose and hope and a newfound excitement to see her parents again. She thought it was strange that she could feel so blisteringly bitter towards her parents, but without them, she felt so hollow, like she was no more than the clothes on her back.

It was almost unfathomable how busy the airport was. Rachel narrowly avoided a suitcase to the cranium and a scalding cup of coffee being spilt on her. After all her near-death experiences, she had her bags and was heading down an escalator, where a member of her family had promised to pick her up. Indeed, Linda Munroe was standing there like a valet, an A4 sheet with Rachel's name etched in black. Soon as she'd caught sight of her daughter, Linda was running and jumping and suffocating her in an embrace. Rachel could hear her mom sniffing. Shit, she laughed mentally, though she was tearing up too. What is it with me and making my mom cry?

"Oh, Rachy," Linda drawled. "I can't believe you're here. Do you know how long we've waited? Five years, three months and twelve days."

Rachel looped an arm around her mom's and urged them out of the stuffy airport. "So, where's dad?"

"Oh, you know your father," she snorted. "We'd better hurry. He's probably started a kitchen fire by now. Not to mention, we've got a surprise waiting for you back at home."

Rachel's brows shot up. She tried to mask her muddled expression with a tight-lipped smile, but truth be told, she was exhausted. Between the office shenanigans, worrying about Richard and her relationship, and life in general, she hadn't really had a moment to just breathe. Coming home should've been a breath of fresh air. All she needed was a hot shower and a long nap in her childhood bedroom until Christmas. Knowing her mom, it would be anything but.

At first, the drive home was a little unfamiliar. But once they'd turned onto Western Avenue, things were coming back to Rachel like the words to her old favourite song. The skate park on the corner, her middle school, the row of small restaurants, once her slice of the entire planet contained within half a mile. Best of all, she felt as if Los Angeles was opening its arms to her and smothering her in a warm embrace. Pretending she had never left.

The apartments were almost exactly as they had been the day she left. The walls were slightly more grey than she remembered, the elevator wasn't lurching anymore and some of the plants were a little dustier, but none of it mattered. She was home, or as close to home as her heart had felt in years. She flew up three flights of stairs and knocked three times at apartment 505, wearing the biggest, brightest smile to make up for five years of near-radio silence.

The dark door swung open and out peered an unfamiliar girl. Her lips were puckered up in annoyance, her bowl-cut bangs shading her dark eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I must be in the wrong place," Rachel began sweetly.

"Who are you?" snapped the child, her scowl growing deeper.

She tried to infect her with a polite smile. "I'm Rachel. I used to live here."

The little girl narrowed her black eyes before opening the door fully. Rachel's jaw dropped. She was wearing the yellow dungarees from her childhood, and behind her, the layout of her home was almost untouched. A figure stumbled into the background, who she finally recognised as her father. Rachel's wide eyes dropped to the young girl before her. "Who are you?"