She Needed A New Chair

    Leah was exhausted, more so than usual that day. It was also wetter than usual; the rain hadn’t stopped pouring since late afternoon and it was already nearing midnight.
   
    Glancing around, the relatively young woman walked to her favourite armchair, the one she kept near the window for times like these; a mug of cocoa in one hand, a serene smile on her face. Propping herself in the chair, she snuggled into the seat and twisted around, before finally recovering her comfortable spot. The smile had grown smaller now, nevertheless still present as she watched the storm outside persist.
The red, plush armchair was nearly half her age; she remembered when her own mother had bought it when they had moved into a new home. She was in her teens, and Leah grimaced as she remembered those awkward years. Still, her father was ecstatic about the new job offer, her mother was slightly indifferent, knowing the suburban neighbourhood they were about to call home was similar to where they had lived before, and her younger brother torn between sadness at leaving his first best friend and excitement at meeting new ones; she didn’t have the heart to put up too much of a fuss.
    “Honey, I think we should get you a new armchair,” John Wells had remarked one evening, glancing at his wife with a small frown on his brow, who was mending little Alex’s socks which had a big hole right where his pinkie toe was usually located.
    “I’m fine, John; although Leah was talking about some supplies she needed to get for art class, right Leah?” Emily enjoyed the attention her husband bestowed on her, but she felt smothered at times; trying to tell her doting husband this in subtle ways though was a bit of a feat she hadn’t quite mastered.
    “But the armchair’s practically falling apart, Em-“
    “It was my mother’s-“
    “We’ll still keep it, but I think it’s about time you get a new one, yeah?” The slight lilt in John’s pleading tone betrayed his Irish descent, and Emily could only sigh.
    “I’ll see.”
    The next evening, Alex was in his mother’s lap as she tested out the new, admittedly less lumpy furniture, her stiff back gradually relaxing as she melded into the shape of the seat and readjusting the bouncing seven-year-old so that both of them could be more comfortable.
    “Well?”
    Leah watched as the small smirk she had inherited form itself on her mother’s fair features, before shaking her head in amusement. “I guess it’s about time we got a new armchair.”
    John grinned in obvious relief as Leah smiled; sometimes parents could be such sappy idiots, but sometimes, like now, that was okay with her.
    Suddenly a large crack of thunder startled her out of her reverie, the ghosts of her past shying away, replaced by newer, more recent ones. She shook her head at the storm, subconsciously reprimanding it, before settling into the armchair and sipping her half-cold cocoa.
   
    “Argh! Why, oh why is it raining! Leah, I-“
    “Calm down, Alex.” Leah couldn’t help but smirk at the raven-haired man beside her, who was almost ready to ruin the enormous effort the stylists had taken to tame his naturally spiky mop; a trait inherited by his father, regrettably. “The tents are up, and the others had already laid a carpet for the aisle, in case this happened.” She snorted, shaking her head as she glanced in the mirror behind him and fixed the bun on her head. “Trust your mother-in-law to have a spring wedding with these crazy spring showers.”
    “She won’t be my mother-in-law for another half an hour, Leah,” Alex replied dryly, before his grey eyes widened. “Oh my-Leah, I’m going to have a mother-in-law!”
    “And a father-in-law, to boot,” Leah quipped cheerfully, nearly doubling over in laughter as her brother looked like he was about to hyperventilate.
    “Leah, I-“
    “Calm down, Alex.” Leah finally took pity on her younger sibling, as she strode over in her seven-inched black heels and carefully manoeuvring around the familiar room in her cream coloured bridesmaid dress (thank God Dana had convinced her mother not to go with fuchsia) before laying a hand on his broad shoulder.
    “But-“
    “You want this, don’t you?” Leah was careful to keep her tone slightly curious, instead of demanding like she wanted to. “You love Dana, don’t you?”
    Alex closed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply before letting go and opening his eyes again, revealing grey orbs that had momentarily calmed down. “Yeah, I do. Dana’s all I ever-I really love her, Leah.”
    “And it doesn’t matter if her mother’s a bit off her rocket, or her Dad’s a bit too overprotective, does it?” Leah prodded, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
    The young man snorted. “Richard wasn't half as bad as Dad when Chris and you started dating.”
    His sister swatted the back of his head, grinning mischievously as he let out a yelp. “So, a little thunder isn't going to put you off your own wedding, is it?”
    “I sure hope not,” he replied with a half-smile, before his features softened as he embraced his elder sister. “Thanks, sis. I needed that.”
    “No probs,” Leah mumbled as she squeezed her brother tight, marvelling at how much of a man he seemed already, even at 22. She restrained herself from ruffling his hair and gave him a peck on the cheek, before smirking. “Besides, you’re my little brother. Someone’s gotta kick some sense in you.”
    “Better you than Jackie, then,” he mumbled, and Leah laughed aloud at the thought of Dana’s mother flinging red heels at her brother.
   
    That was two years ago, Leah mused, as the storm outside slowly dwindled into a light drizzle, a thoughtful smile left on her face as she continued reminiscing fleeting memories, the now-cold cocoa laid on the small table beside the armchair.
    “Still up? I thought you’d gone to bed by now.”
    Leah smiled as a familiar figure slid beside her on the ancient armchair, and she lifted her bum slightly before sitting in his lap and leaning against the hard chest, laying her head in the crook of his neck. “I was just-remembering. It’s been a while since I’ve sat in this armchair during a rainy night.”
    He chuckled, the vibrations soothing her as they always did. “You’ve been busy with your art classes and whatnot. It’s a wonder, really.”
    She snorted ungracefully, before replying, “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, Chris.”
    “Well, the pot certainly hasn’t looked into a mirror, lately,” Chris answered easily, wrapping strong arms around his wife’s slender form. He grinned widely as Leah snorted again, before she relaxed and silently traced circles on the back of his hand with her slightly calloused thumb.
    “We’re a bunch of sappy idiots, aren’t we?” Leah remarked nonchalantly, snuggling deeper into him.
    “We sure are,” Chris yawned, as both of them drifted off to sleep, unaware of the rain finally halting just before midnight.