eldia

4 | birthday eve

Jean sat at the round table that rested in the center of his kitchen. He had an omelette in front of him that he was absolutely devouring.

Jean's mother stood a couple feet away as she dries her hands with a small rag. "So, you never told me. How's it going so far?"

Jean looks up from his almost clean plate. "How's what going?"

She sets the blue rag down on the sink she just used to wash dishes. "Your promotion, of course!"

Jean shrugs and shoves more egg into his mouth. "It's going good."

His mother sighs and heavily takes a seat beside him. Her eyes were twinkling as she began to mold your face with her imagination. "I bet she's even more beautiful now."

"Who? The princess?" He asks as he shoves the last bit of his breakfast into his mouth. "She's exactly like we saw her last just taller and older."

She shakes her head. "I'm sure there's more that changed. Her voice, her face, her body." She rests her elbow on the table and uses her hands to hold up her face. "I wish I could see what kind of woman she grew up to be."

Jean stares at her blankly. He hadn't noticed much change. Yes, physically you did change here and there but to him, you were still the same loud, persistent kid who would follow him and his friends around.

He stands up and grabs his plate. From the corner of his eye, he catches his mom about to stand up to wash the plate but he stops her. "I can do it, you just take a break."

She nods and sits back down. Jean begins to wash away at his plate with the sponge. "Her birthday parade is tomorrow so you'll see her if you look outside or you know, you can always go visit and see how she looks for yourself." He suggests.

His mother begins to babble. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly impose. I no longer work there so I have no business there."

Jean glares at her. "You're kidding, right? You've worked there for years and they all adore you. The queen always asks about you. They all do."

She smiles as she looks down at her feet. "I would love to see all of them again but it just doesn't feel right. I feel as if I'm intruding."

Jean turns back to the sink and finishes rinsing off the soap from his plate. He knew there was no point in pushing her to do it if she wasn't comfortable with it.

His mom was much more shy and soft spoken compared to her son. He had to learn the hard way that she had anxiety about doing a lot of things. Hence why she had the same job for 15 years and hardly ever leaves the house unless it's to get groceries.

"Maybe you can sketch her for me and bring it home so I can see." She suggests.

Jean laughs harshly as he dries his now clean dish. "I'm not sketching her."

His mother frowns. "Why not?"

After he puts the dish away, he throws his bag over his shoulder and pushes in his chair. "Because that's just weird."

"You've done it before." She reminds him.

Jean's entire face begins to burn and there's a stinging sensation in his cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."