I finally got to the bottom of the steps and saw mom in the kitchen, hovering over our electric stove.
She was flipping over a cheese and mushroom omelet. Yum. Mom always made me an egg and cheese sandwich for my birthdays, and it never got old.
She glanced at me then turned back to the food, then looked up again and smiled. “Hey kiddo. Happy birthday.” she smiled. I smiled back. Mom was never one to get excited over anything.
Our table could seat 20, but only me and Mom ate at it because my mom hated guests. She said she bought it for it’s looks. That the smooth wooden chairs and red seat cushioning went with our red shiny hundred-dollar plate set and our low hanging antique chandelier. Honestly, I think it was the only table that would take up the bulk of space in our huge dining room. With the dining room being big enough for my Mom and I to live in all by itself, it was a lot of empty space to cover and Mom hated empty spaces. I truthfully thought this house was too big for just the two of us.
I took a seat at the head of the table, waiting for the usual birthday breakfast, but something was off. Mom was staring at me, a smile stuck on her face. I smiled shyly back and focused on the small group of presents positioned on the table. The front one I knew had to be a video game case. I looked up again. The same creepy baby doll smile. I continued to smile back and laughed. This was getting awkward really fast.
Finally, her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh! I didn’t even realise I was staring at you. Sorry Kiano.” Then she turned back to the food.
She turned the stove off, ploped the cheese omelet between two toasted breads, stuck a candle through the middle of it, and placed the plate in front of me. She took a seat at the table to the right of me.
“Sixteen huh?” my Mom joked. “Don’t think you get to do whatever you want, though. You still live in my house.”
I laughed. “I know.” I blew out the candle.
As I ate, I noticed that the question of who my father was wouldn’t leave.
Who was he?
Why did Mom never talk of him?
Did he die?
Was he in jail?
That’s it. I had made up my mind. I would ask Mom who my father was today. I’m 16 years old. I think I’m old enough to hear the truth finally.
But just thinking of asking my mother that made my stomach swirl like an ocean thunderstorm.
Meanwhile, my mom kept fidgeting. Usually, she would accompany me at the table while I ate my birthday omelet, and we kept a conversation, about what I was going to do today or how it felt now that I was one year older. Today it was eerily quiet. Me just crunching on hard toast and Mom looking upstairs, muttering to herself, or her fingers twitching.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up with you?”
She turned and stared at me for a full minute. I kid you not, a full minute. Her black coffee eyes zeroed in on me like she was a lion and I was a zebra, prey just waiting to be pounced on.
I set my sandwich down. “Mom, you’re scaring me.”
“Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m just thinking.” She now stared out the window. Then she looked up at the ceiling, whispering: “Is now the right time? I’m not sure. Uh! I just can’t think today!”
I didn’t know if now was the right time to ask her about my dad. She seemed… off. But I just had to know, and I couldn’t let this go.
“Hey, uh, Mom?”
Now my stomach just plain hurt.
She jumped and her eyes darted to me. “Yea?”
I stalled. “Um… really. What’s going on? You seem so out of sorts.”
“It’s well… Okay…. Uh! Well, you.. There’s… I… Forget it. Forget it.” She sputtered, her fingers pushing on her eyes in frustration.
“Well, I was gonna ask you something, so… is your head clear enough for me to ask it?” I asked her.
“Yeah, sure. Of course Kiano.” For once her eyebrows scrunched close to her softened eyes.
For the first time this morning, her gaze felt concerned rather than stalkerish.
Then, after a 3-second countdown in my head. I took a big sigh and let it out.
“Mom, who was my dad?”
