Next morning I decided to try my mother’s advice. I got up promptly and prepared breakfast: crispy and succulent bacon, scrambled eggs, roasted tomato with chilli sous on top, complimented with a golden creamy coffee.
“Good morning,” Mom greeted me with a smile and surprise in her voice. “This is lovely, thank you child,” she said, and took a seat ready to devour what was in front of her.
“Mom,” I took a cup of cinnamon tea in my hand and faced her from the other side of the kitchen.
“Hmm?”
I didn’t know if that was for me or the food in her mouth.
I took a sip of tea and began to notice how old she was, grey hair was creeping in between her red-coloured locks. Her oldness wasn’t easily noticeable, but on closer inspection it was there.
“Honey, are you okay?” she stopped eating and looked concerned again.
Guilt pooled and my heart broke for her. She always stressed when she noticed me watching her too closely.
“Oh no, yes I am fine. You just amaze me, that’s all.”
“Oh really?” The tension vanished from her shoulders and she picked up her fork. “How so?”
“Just.”
“Just what?”
“No just. Anyways can you help me with something?”
Her fork paused. “Should I be afraid to ask, with what?”
“No.”
“Okay, then ask away.”
“Can you please set up the meeting with your friend, for no later than tomorrow?”
She started to smile.
“And can you lend me your car please?”
“Wow, Hun, am I pleased to hear that! But you haven’t got your drivers yet. I can take you.”
“But I don’t want you to wait for me until I am done.”
“It won’t be a problem. I have things to do in town anyways.”
Just then Craig Flanagan appeared, and I let the matter drop. I started to leave when my mother stopped me with a look.
So there I was, stuck being this child’s assistant as we set up the rack.
“Do you have kids?”
My skin went hot, even though I knew he meant no harm.
“Does it look that way,” I snapped, and started to walk off.
There was a thud.
He screamed.
I kept on walking.
My mother asked what that was about, but I just shrugged my shoulders leaving her all confused.
Later on, guilt drove me back. I fixed him some ice-cold lemonade and offered it as a bribe for forgiveness.
“I am sorry,” I said, watching him gulp down the lemonade.
“It’s fine.” He shyly handed me the empty glass. “I am sorry for asking that, Haley is not my friend and Mama always said to respect your elders.”
“And here am I hoping we could be friends,” I smiled.
He smiled back.