Why Did You Ask?
I arrived at the kindergarten a little early.
Hardly any parents had shown up yet, so the hallway was quiet. I wheeled the stroller softly across the corridor and stopped outside Reni's classroom.
"……."
Careful not to interrupt the lesson, I peered inside. Reni was completely absorbed, drawing in his sketchbook.
The children weren't looking toward the hallway, but I did catch the eyes of the teachers moving about the room. They offered only a light nod of greeting and gave no other signal, so it seemed Reni had followed along without any trouble today.
I turned my gaze back to him.
He stayed focused right to the end, and the moment the end-of-class bell rang he whipped his head toward the window. Spotting me at once, he broke into a wide smile.
With the other children, he packed his bag neatly, called out goodbyes to his friends, and ran straight to me.
"Dad!"
"Hey there, my boy."
I scooped him up, and Reni locked his arms around my neck. I hugged my proud little son right back.
"Did you do well in class today?"
"Yeah!"
I ruffled his hair as he answered so bravely, tucked his bag into the stroller, and we set off.
Reni bounced along beside me, chattering about everything that had happened at kindergarten that day—just as he had on his first morning there. The endless stream of talk was utterly adorable.
Once we got to the office, he proudly showed his sketchbook to me and the rest of the crew.
Of course, the one who gave the best reaction of all was Greg.
"Whoa, that's amazing! You drew all this yourself today? Wait—is this me?"
"Yeah! That's Uncle Greg! This is Aunt Cassandra! This is Dad and Luca! This is Mr. James! And this is……."
Today's theme, Reni explained, had been My Family and Friends.
His sketchbook was filled with face after face. He had split the page down the middle—the church on one side, our house on the other.
On the church side I could pick out the nuns, the Father, Alicia, Tony, even Jennyfer—so many people. The way he had captured each person's distinctive features so you could actually recognize them was seriously impressive for a kid his age.
Our house he had drawn in three stories: me and Luca on the third floor, Cassandra and Greg on the second, and Mr. James on the first…….
I really ought to introduce him properly to Lily and Rose one of these days.
I carefully tore the drawing from the sketchbook, made a simple frame out of cardboard, and hung it on the wall beside the kids' photos.
And that was how we wrapped up a happy day.
The next morning, though, just like after his first day, he said he didn't want to go to kindergarten, so I kept him home. The day after that, he went again.
A week passed.
For the time being we decided Reni would attend four days a week instead of five. Two days at school, one day resting at home, then two more days at school—that rhythm seemed to be easier on his heart.
Once elementary school started we wouldn't have that luxury, but kindergarten was flexible enough to work around a parent and child's needs. I was grateful for that.
Before I knew it, time had slipped into October.
A cool wind was blowing, and outside the windows the trees blazed with autumn color—a full, proper fall.
It happened to be a Wednesday when Reni was home with us, and the weather was so fine that I loaded the kids into the stroller and took them out for a walk.
In autumn the sunlight felt even warmer.
Reni sat in the stroller pointing up at the maple leaves high in the trees, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Dad! The leaves are red color!"
"They are—such a pretty red. Look, there's yellow ones too."
We wandered and talked for a little while, and when we got back we all shared a cinnamon apple bread that filled the room with that warm, spicy scent.
Autumn was everywhere—and right in the middle of it, a whole pile of books arrived by courier from Evan's publishing house.
The book-curation video Evan had personally commissioned was already finished, but he still hadn't opened his online bookstore, so I couldn't upload it to YouTube yet.
On the other hand, the ad video for Brown House Publishing I'd posted last month had gotten a decent response, so I landed work from them again this month.
Same as last time, they sent over the house's periodical PDF and the files for the featured titles I was supposed to promote. On top of that, they sent another ten books this month to go with last month's batch.
"At this rate I'm going to be a book millionaire."
"But suddenly it feels like homework. You're not seriously going to read every single one before you make the video, are you?"
"Not all of them. Still, if I want even a little authenticity, I should read some……. You didn't watch the last video I posted, did you?"
"I skimmed the outline and hit fast-forward."
Greg said it without a shred of shame, while Cassandra cleared her throat awkwardly and looked away.
Both of them quietly hate books, huh.
Well, it didn't really matter. The publisher's video edits came with very clear guidelines, so I was handling them myself.
The script was already written, and they even provided the framing they wanted plus every image to insert, so even with me—who'd been letting editing slide lately—the results still came out pretty solid.
Of course, the fact that I'd bought the editing software and a new laptop with points was a secret.
Even if those two weren't interested, the videos still needed solid view counts every month if our sponsor was going to keep sending work my way. I couldn't half-ass it.
I picked out one thin book I could finish quickly, headed into the playroom, and dropped myself into the beanbag sofa.
Before diving into the book in earnest, I took a moment to watch the kids.
"Why do you always give the cheese to the rabbit, Lucaaa……."
Reni, clearly worn out from playing with his brother, flopped sideways and complained to him.
But Luca just clutched his cheese piece tighter and stared at his big brother with a stubborn face.
"Aung."
"Umm……."
Faced with that mulish expression, Reni heaved a big sigh—then sat up with the look of someone who had made a firm decision.
"Okay! Maybe the rabbit wants cheese too!"
He took the cheese from Luca's hand and carefully set it next to the rabbit.
"Uwah!"
You gave in, my firstborn. Though I'm pretty sure rabbits aren't supposed to eat cheese.
"Then the monkey can eat a carrot! And the puppy can eat an acorn!"
"Yeah!"
I could almost hear the food chain of the ecosystem collapsing, but I ignored it and, sitting right beside the kids, summoned superhuman concentration and started reading.
Knock, knock.
I'd gotten about halfway through the book when Greg rapped on the playroom window.
I looked up, and he cracked the window open with a faintly flushed face.
"Jun. Playlist's done. Forty-five minutes."
"Oh."
Over the past month I'd recorded guitar parts and backing vocals whenever I had a spare moment, but I hadn't heard how the whole thing was coming together, so I was a little excited.
"No need to sit down at the monitors for this……. I'll just put it on. Listen through and tell me if anything feels off."
"Sure."
A moment later, a bright yet cozy sound filled the whole office—music that suited autumn perfectly.
Even the kids, playing with their toys, started bobbing their heads along in the middle of it. The songs had clearly come out well.
I sat and listened for a bit, then stood up. It was about time to start putting lunch together.
The second I got to my feet, Reni whipped his head around.
"Huh? Dad, where you going?"
"Dad's going to make lunch now. Is there anything our Reni wants to eat?"
"Aha!"
He pretended to think for a second, then threw both arms wide and declared,
"Anything!"
No, baby. Who taught you that terrible answer.
"The real problem now is the video to go with the playlist."
Greg took a huge bite of his hot dog, drained half his lemon soda, and laid out his worry.
"I thought about just using stills, but I dropped that pretty fast. Doesn't feel like it has enough pull to keep people watching."
"What about our performance footage? Too repetitive?"
"Yeah. Might feel stale. And just cycling through autumn scenery isn't great either……."
The two of us had stopped eating to think when Cassandra, still working on the coleslaw that had come with the hot dogs, tossed out a completely random suggestion.
"What if we shoot an autumn music video with Jun as the star?"
Cassandra was a fiercely energetic and capable employee, but every so often she came out with something completely off the wall like this.
"I don't think so."
"Why not? This is your chance to try acting!"
"Please don't just throw things like that out there……."
"I'm not just throwing it out. Lately we barely post any videos where Jun's face is the main focus. Something like that would be good."
"Hmm……."
I was peeling an apple for dessert and feeding the kids bite by bite when a good idea suddenly hit me.
"Cassandra. That joint broadcast Vanessa suggested last time—is that still on the table?"
Cassandra's eyes lit up.
"Of course it is! I was wondering when you'd finally bring it up. We've been so buried in opening the office and settling in I never found the right moment. Jun, if we can shoot a video with Vanessa, we absolutely should!"
"Then how about this?"
I pitched a concept that could pull two videos out of a single day of filming.
"A classic two-birds-with-one-stone content piece……."
"Dude, that phrase is so dad."
"What? Everything I say suddenly sounds 'dad' to you."
"Jun does have a little bit of that energy, to be fair."
Even Cassandra was piling on. With a faintly sour face, I pressed on with the explanation.
"This space right here. Where we eat. We dress it up a little nicer, invite Vanessa to a dinner party, and while we're cooking the meal for the party we also shoot a cooking video."
"Ah……. And then we lay that party footage under the playlist?"
"Yeah. Wouldn't that work? Natural, just flashy enough, and with plenty to look at."
My face would show up a reasonable amount, and Vanessa could appear without too much pressure.
"I'll message her right now!"
Still holding the plate with her unfinished hot dog, Cassandra dashed to her laptop, got a yes almost immediately, and locked in a date.
"Jun. Vanessa's asking if it would be okay to invite Mello along too? This industry really is small—I guess they know each other. I think it's fine, but what about you?"
"……Mello?"
The name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it.
Whatever I was thinking must have been written all over my face, because Cassandra gave me an oh, for heaven's sake look and added,
"Mello Brown! The makeup artist from the recipe-book shoot!"
"Ah……."
Even after the explanation I still had to dig for a second.
Then I remembered—the man who had shoved me down into a salon chair, the one with the terrifying smoky eye makeup.
"Oh. That guy. He's…… a little intense……."
He wasn't a bad person, but if someone asked whether I wanted to see him again, the answer would not have come easily.
Cassandra, however, had zero hesitation.
"Okay. Then I'll tell her yes."