Synchronicity: We and Her

Chapter 5: Synchronized Sneezing, Anyone? Part 1

Our performance as Brave Ad 65 ends after just an hour, since overworking our vocal cords is unacceptable for this line of work.

And thus, we take our time to mingle with some of the regular clients, and introduce them to Aurora.

Once the clock strikes midnight, our job at Mushy Baby’s Drift Country Bar and Restaurant is basically done, and the remaining patrons can gorge on all the food and drinks they want until 2 am, which is the establishment’s closing time.

The owner and manager understands why we have to leave two hours before closing time, since he knows it’s not easy to restore vocal cords after even a moment of overuse.

We also take necessary precautions to take care of our precious vocal cords, and some of them have been implemented by the establishment itself.

We never smoke nor smell even a whiff of secondhand smoke (the bar has an anti-smoking policy), we limit our alcohol and caffeine intake (we just make do with tea, hot chocolate, fruit juices, sodas, and of course, non-alcoholic concoctions from our one and only waiter), we drink lots of water, and we manage our diets well (we limit spicy foods and eat fruits, veggies, and whole grains whenever possible).

It’s now twelve o’clock.

Our daily duty here is over.

And as we leave, we’re given accolades by long-time patrons for saving Aurora once more.

As for the girl herself…

She musters up her courage to be as amicable as us in making herself familiar to the faces she will see every night.

And we’re now home.

The trip from the bar to the apartment only takes us five minutes, as we just walk away from the direction of the hospital and get to our abode, which is just a block away but is still situated on the same highway.

Since our apartment has no guest rooms (but is still as spacious as heck), we just tell Aurora…

“We have a sofa bed beside our main bed. This will be your bed from now on.”

“Thank you!”

She just pulls the sofa bed out of its hiding place, unfurls it, lets her own body partake in its mattress’s unusual softness, and takes herself to dreamland… all in a span of five minutes.

After a quick change to our sleeping wear, we just say the two comforting words she should hear…

“Good night.”

...before we slouch on our own bed and also greet each other good night as the tiredness we have leads to an easy shut-eye.

8 am.

We three are all up with the lark… kind of.

Since Leigh and I are night owls, we simply don’t care what time in the morning we wake up after a night of much-needed sleep.

But usually, we wake up from 8 to 9 am.

And Aurora has to get adapted to this sleeping pattern of ours, since she’s practically the third (and possibly last) to live in this humble abode.

Fortunately, Aurora’s quite the fast learner, and thus she quickly adapts to our body clocks.

Leigh suggests something, “Aurora, since you’ll be living in this pad from now on, we’ll let you decide what we’ll all eat for breakfast. Have a look at our pantry if you wish.”

Aurora just nods before following Leigh’s instruction to the letter.

We just let her inspect every nook and cranny of the pantry, and never we get ashamed of what they contain.

Boxes of sugar-free cereals, jars of oats and quinoa, boxes containing teabags, bags of chips, small jars of instant coffee…

These are just the items we carry for our breakfast alone.

Next on her inspection list is the fridge.

The freezer contains the usual – ham, bacon, sausages, hotdogs, and frozen vegetables.

The fridge’s main part mainly consists of leftovers from the past few days… and some half-gallon bottles of soda, iced tea, and juices – with varying levels of actual contents left.

Her eyes glow as she aims her sights at the center-most part of the fridge.

“Oooh… cinnamon rolls… I want them so bad…”

I react, “If you really want them so bad, go ahead. Take them. They’re all yours.”

Leigh follows up, “As for what we’ll eat, we’ll just settle with bacon and coffee. Right, dear?”

I just nudge Leigh’s body teasingly with my elbow as Aurora says, “YES!”

Minutes later, we three are at the dining table.

Having this “world” expanded in a natural way is heartwarming for us two.

Besides the cinnamon rolls, Aurora also has Earl Grey tea as her accompanying breakfast drink.

We also hand her some pieces of the bacon, and she really likes the crunch.

The sound alone is enough to get her all pumping.

Pumping enough to watch the next episode of her favorite telenovela.

And because we don’t watch anything else decent on television, we just let her take over the remote, no questions asked.

After yesterday’s “you darn cripple” episode, this episode’s bordering on the weird, but less so.

It turns out the heroine has a pet dog she just reunited with from the local dog pound. That’s good enough.

But the weird part is…

The dog talks!

No, not the “actual human speech coming out of the dog’s mouth” thing, but just a close-up shot of the dog that is accompanied by a whimsical male voice over.

Simple video editing and a dream can make the impossible possible.

Leigh and I just chuckle along with Aurora as the dog, named Papelito, gives his comical remarks to the crud the heroine has gone through so far.

“I can’t believe an actual gallon of expired apple juice was poured on you by your evil stepmother, just because you pronounced the word ‘horses’ (caballos) wrong! What has gotten into her?”

“I can’t believe you actually got beaten up by your stepfather who looks like a toothpick with arms! Is your foster family really that cursed?”

“I can’t believe that stepmom unleashed her fury again, this time on your daughter who’s just recovering from a vehicular accident. She has no right to call your pride and joy ‘a darn cripple’, you know!”

After the concentrated melodrama of the previous episodes, this episode with the doggie is definitely a breather.

We three just let ourselves get entertained by Aurora’s quirky but still entertaining tastes in television as the hours go by, until we all get bored and shut off the TV.

After a brief lunch, Leigh and I tell Aurora…

“Stay put. You’re about to hear something awesome.”

She just answers “Yes!” enthusiastically.

We then head towards the apartment’s lone storage room, which is just indicated by a white door decorated with a ukulele.

After grabbing some cases, we head back to the living room immediately.

“Oh? Country music CDs?”

Leigh just appraises, “Wow! How perceptive! OK, so what we have here are the best of the best of country music, picked by us and our fellow employees, of course. The big names are all here, so your ears won’t disappoint!”

“Alright! I think… I’m gonna pick that one first!”

“Good call!”

Leigh first turns on the hi-fi CD player we have bought from a garage sale three years ago, inserts the CD into the player, and presses play.

The CD itself is a 90s reissue of a 60s record by a male singer who eventually reached the Billboard charts in the succeeding years.

People may be more familiar with music streaming services, but for Leigh and I, nothing beats the sounds coming out of a spotless CD that has endured the years.

Aurora just hums to the tunes while we sing the lyrics by heart, with whispers. Remember, we mustn’t over-strain our throats.

Night eventually falls, and we three all get ready for tonight’s performance, with a brand new set list to match.

Aurora non-verbally convinces us to let her join once again, and we quickly approve her request.

She’ll be a permanent fixture in this little bar, after all.

Last night, we have missed the sign at the entrance that says…

“This is a pet-friendly establishment. To anyone who will bring their pets, please ensure their proper hygiene and grooming. To anyone who is allergic to pets, please wear your masks before entering. Thank you.”

That is because we have mingled enough with the bouncer.

Ever the curious girl, Aurora asks us…

“Why would a bar like this admit pets? Isn’t the owner and manager aware that this would cause a busload of problems?”

“Oh… about that,” I respond, “the policy was the result of a days-long meeting between the management of the bar and the bartender himself. The meeting was more like a heated debate rather than an actual meeting, since both sides have exhausted their arguments… until an agreement was reached.”

“How?”

“A simple coin toss. Heads up, pets are allowed. Tails up, pets are banned. Good thing Lady Luck was on Laurent’s side, and thus we have the pet-friendly policy here nowadays. And before you ask… we aren’t allergic to pets ourselves.”

“Oh, I see.”