Sam's POV:-
I drew in a deep breath. The little strawberry buds, decorated with little dew drops shimmer in the morning sun. I crouch near the plants and pluck out the ripe Diamante bulbs. Mom and I, did a good job with the garden this year. If we had more space, we could have started a farm. A squirrel, with its fur puffed out, stalked around the shoots. A tiny bird dipped her beak in the water puddle, and tipped her head back ruffling her feathers taking a morning bath. Another squirrel skittered past my leg to lick dew off the leaves. They all seem unaffected as I walk around looking for more berries.
I loved the smell of wet soil and plant stems. Working in your garden, or coming in contact with earth is a certain type of cleansing. It feels satisfying and serene. My mom would always use gloves to protect her manicure, but I liked to skip them. I loved feeling the springy, chunky soil between my fingers, as I planted the cheerful hydrangea saplings.
My garden boots look muddy. But I was secretly indulging in the fact that their green color matched my new frock. This dress was my mum's choice. I didn't like the design at first, because it had a pleated bottom, but my mom insisted. It was pure cotton, with minute stiches. A casual attire to wear at home.
I take the strawberries I collected, along with lettuce leaves to the kitchen backdoor. Using the hosepipe I wash my boots, and the fruits.
"Mum, smoothie?"
"Yes please," she calls back from the dining room. I add one banana and blend the fruit with cashew milk and honey. I hum a tune, and jovially twirl around in my dress while the drink gets ready.
Aimlessly, I check my phone. Max still hadn't texted me back. He wakes at five in the morning for jogging, so I know he is not sleeping. And last night we were fighting over why Max wouldn't let me visit his lily pad if we both were frogs. He was surprisingly picky as a frog. It was a pointless argument, because even as a frog I would be cute. And I would be the only cute frog that'll visit Max's grumpy and rumpled leaf. He still didn't budge.
In fresh glasses, I take the smoothie to my mom. Dad always leaves early so my mom makes him his breakfast and sends him off. Afterwards it's just me and her, and we mess around making new breakfast with copious amounts of sugar and butter, that we can't use in front of dad because of his rising cholesterol and diabetes. Seeing dad eat plain toast and scrambled eggs, made me dread old age.
While I gulp my smoothie, mom takes a sip and cringes, "Too much fruit." She pushes it away.
"That's the whole point, mum," I shrug and take her glass, finishing half of it. "Sam! You won't eat breakfast," my mom says aghast.
"No, I got space," I grin and pat my tummy.
"Alright, give me ten more minutes. I need to finish cutting these vegetables for dinner." I picked up my novel, and flung myself down on the chair in living room. I get distracted by movement outside.
"Mom, why are cops outside Erin's house?" I ask, parting the curtains. Erin was my junior in school. We were childhood friends, forced to hang out together because our mums wanted to chat.
"Her sister went to a frat party," my mom answers. "Some boys drugged her and took her pictures."
My hands go cold and a shiver runs down my spine. Poor Erin. Then I remember my mom's aggressive snapping when I asked for the trip. It must be because of this. I rub my eyes tired, wondering when I will be free to do what I want.
I close the curtains when I see Erin's mom standing on their porch in her nightgown. Too disturbed to read, I sit beside my mom and peel grapefruit.
YOU ARE READING
Luggage Bitch
Storie d'amore"Umm.. Thanks," I mumble, kicking dust with my shoes. "What?" Max asks me. "I said, thank you," I say more clearly. "Still can't hear you... Could you repeat that?" he asks politely. "I said thank you!" I shout. "You pig," I add lowly. "Still nada...
