Somewhere in la la land.
"Who are you here to see?" she asked.
"The Fabray-Berrys," he said, his pressed khakis, sleek black tie and blazer screaming class. He turned to the right, grabbed his sister's hand and smiled.
"Right this way," the woman said.
"How are they doing?"
"Oh you know them, they're perrrfect," she giggled. "Always arguing with me, Miss Quinn. And the other, god bless the other."
The girl laughed and squeezed the boy's hand tighter as they walked through the hallway.
"Do they seem happy?" he asked, winking back to the girl and her bright hazel eyes, sweater and skirt.
"They're always happy, blissfully. Always in their own little world of make believe," the woman answered and slowed as she came to a door. "Here's their suite. Go on in and have a ball."
"Thank you," he said, glanced through the window and then opened the door. "Mom?"
"Yeah," he laughed. "We're here. We made it," he called, but saw nothing. "Where are you guys?"
"In here," his mother called.
"Where?" the girl shouted back.
"Why? What are you-" he started before meandering his way around the corner and freezing. His mother had his mom bent over the sink, hands in her hair and suds everywhere.
"What's that face for?"
"What are you doing to mom's hair?"
"What's it look like? Washing it."
"Why?" the girl asked, bemused grin on her face.
"Because I felt like it! And because celebrities don't wash their own damn hair! Why all the questions?"
"Yeah, why all the concern?" her mom shouted from beneath the faucet.
"Just a little curiosity is all. It's always just curiosity with you two."
"That's because we live life like crazies!" his mom beamed.
"Crazy, alright," the girl muttered with a smirk.
"Hey now! We lived, regardless of how we did so!"
"Yeah, we did. We lived like bats," she shrieked from under the water.
"Bats, baby? What you talking about bats?"
"Parents!" the girl and boy groaned and they hushed. His aged, yet striking mother turned to him, hands in light grey hair and a smile on her face.
"Clearly," he muttered.
"Boy, did we live," she laughed from under the water. "We're still living! We didn't have a clue, but we sure as hell lived! And look at us now, famous and getting our hair done!" she laughed yet again.
God, he loved them. From the time he and his sister were adopted until standing there before them now fifty years later, he loved them. He loved every ounce of them, even if they never knew what to do, how to do it or what to say.
"We certainly did not have a clue," his mother muttered, laughing at her boisterous, dramatic and darling wife in her hands below.
"Maybe you should've asked for directions," he joked.
And she grinned at him with a smile.
"Nah, I think we did alright."