Apparently, Alex was romantic as fuck.
Till he wasn't.
IC Date: 2000-2018
OOC Date: 2019-02-27
Location: Onstage
Related Scenes: None
Plot: None
Scene Number: 24
They had no money at all. Nineteen years old. Living in a tiny, terrible apartment just off-campus. Sophia was supposed to go to his mother's, but she was sick, so she was watching cartoons on the couch and coughing. But Alex was so in love back then. And he was from Philly, so it had to be Boyz II Men, ya know? He had sold his guitar, so something a cappella worked anyway. And he was all of nineteen, so - sick child or not - they had a busy, busy night that first anniversary.
He should probably pick songs in English. Since Amy didn't speak Spanish. But what can you do? At twenty-three, they were drowning in student loans, and she was tight-as-fuck about money. But Sophia had just turned seven, and she could pick out the keys on the little keyboard, and Alex knew exactly how charmingly this played out. It was a good night. He heard her trying to sing in Spanish in the morning, while she was getting dressed and he was lounging in bed. She didn't wind up getting dressed. It was a good morning, too.
"Are you seriously singing Shania Twain to me?" But it made her laugh, and that's what Alex had been going for. He was making good money now, and her penny-pinching had paid off loans in record time, and it felt good to just… be. He had two guitars, and their deluxe apartment (in the sky-y-y) was filled to the brim with candles that night, every one of the alight, a serious fire-hazard.
He had sent Sophia off to a friend's house that night - Turns out, having a daughter that can feel some things? Gets real awkward sometimes! - and it was the first time he'd spent money on their anniversary. She danced with him in their bedroom in the things he'd spent that money on. Things were working.
Sophia's hands stopped on the keys of the piano, and she looked at him dully. "You cannot seriously sing this song to Mom."
Alex had protested. The song was romantic... wasn't it? But she looked at him with his own eyes, seventeen years old, smart as a whip, and the only reason he was still here, if he was being completely honest. She picked out the keys on the glossy piano in the study. They had a study these days.
No. She was right. He couldn't sing that to her mother. He couldn't sing anything to her anymore. He could barely talk to her. They only listened to each other with half an ear at best these days, and bickered at each other if they really had to do more. They had two more anniversaries to go, and he didn't sing for those ones, either. Amy never said a word about it. Neither did Alex.
Tags: