I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 9.5 - Emma

It just turned 6:00 PM when Brandon parked outside the Schnieders', and I got off the motorcycle. Brandon did the same, and led me to the door. "Maybe I can come inside your house sometime," he suggested. "If that's okay?"

I looked at him with uncertainty.

"I don't mean now, of course," he said. "But maybe later? I don't want to intrude."

I smiled in response. It's not even my house. I don't even know what the consequences of him meeting the Schneiders will be. "See you tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah. Definitely tomorrow," he answered. His hand went to his pocket. I knew that meant he was feeling awkward.

I raised myself upon my toes to give him a peck on the cheek, right below his scratch. "Thank you for today," I said to Brandon gratefully.

"Ditto," he replied with a grin. His hands left his pockets.

I turned to step inside the house as I saw Brandon head back to his motorcycle. I was able to catch him wink at me from inside his helmet before I closed the front door behind me.

"Where have you been all day?" I heard Mr. Schneider ask from the living room.

"Out and about." I walked deeper inside to see Mr. Schneider sitting on the floor, watching Jaime make sound effects as he played with his toy cars along the roads sewn into a nearby mat. Mrs. Schneider was laying on the sofa to my right, browsing through her phone. She had wavy, brown hair to complement her big, dark chocolate eyes, a prominent nose, and a small mouth.

Spotting me, she sat up. "Would you like anything to eat, dear?" she asked. "I've just made some brownies." Her voice had a slight accent which only made it sound exotic. Mrs. Schneider was born and raised in France before she moved to America and met Mr. Schneider, who helped her with her English. It was because of her that we had a place to stay and a translator to communicate when my parents and I moved to France.

"No, it's okay. I already ate, thank you," I replied, and Mrs. Schneider sat back down on the sofa to continue checking her phone.

I turned my attention to Mr. Schneider to my left. He eyed me. "How was it, then?" he asked. "Your day?"

"It was good," I replied. "Amsterdam is just wonderful."

"And who was the boy?"

I froze. I didn't even know why. "His name's Brandon. He lives next door, and he's been showing me around Amsterdam this past week."

"Oh, that's nice," Mr. Schneider remarked, but his tone suggested otherwise. I could feel him turning into a parent to me, like Luce had did on Brandon.

"Yeah, it is. He's very kind."

One of Jaime's toy cars accidentally rolled too far away, and Mr. Schneider caught it, pushing it back onto the mat. "Have you two gotten close?" he asked me.

I wondered in what way he meant that. "Yeah, I guess we have," I decided, my thoughts drifting to our kiss.

"That's nice," Mr. Schneider said again. We both looked to Jaime, who paid no attention to our gazes. He focused on the cars in his hands as he drove them down the fuzzy roads of the mat.

I walked over and sat down next to them, silent.

"Do you know why we named him Jaime?" Mr. Schneider wondered.

I looked to him and then to Mrs. Schneider, and then to Jaime as he played with his cars, indifferent to our conversation. "No."

"Because Jaime is basically j'aime, which means "I love" in French," Mr. Schneider said. "And Jaime is the symbol of Grace's and my love to each other, to Jaime, and to others like you and your-." He stopped. "Others like you and our friends."

My parents.

Mr. Schneider peered at me with a questioning look that tried to ask me something without words, but I couldn't understand it. Or maybe I just didn't want to understand it.

I heaved myself up, puzzled at how mysterious Mr. Schneider was being. "I'm going to take a shower," I said.

As I walked away to the bathroom, I could hear Jaime's voice in the background. "Vrrrooommm," he bellowed. I could imagine him lifting the car up into the air, as if it had driven up a slope at high speed to finally float in the air, blissful before the solidity of the ground struck it and blew it up into smithereens.