~Cariño: A Quackbur Story~

~Silky as Milk~

. . .

The back relaxed against my bed. I was trying to calm myself down. I had just come from work. Yes. You heard me right. Work.

Quackity had hired me. He said that 'I was good for a rookie'. Whatever that meant. All I did was mix coffee together and take donuts from the display case.

I planned on telling my mom and dad that I was taking after-school classes. Studying for my finals. I wasn't planning on telling my parents at all about my job, but they clearly suspected something.

My eyes started to flutter close. I was so close to dipping into sleep, there was a knock on my door.

"Wilbur? Are you in there, darling?" My mother's soft voice swept from my closed door.
"Yes mum?"
She opened my door, looking down at me from my doorway. She leaned slightly on my door, kind of hugging it.
"Your father and I want to have dinner with you. You seem busy lately."

I yawned. "Sounds good, mum. What's for dinner?"
She smiled. "I made some pasta. Come down stairs when you're ready love."

I nodded. My mother walks out of the door, closing it behind her. I sat myself up, sighing. I push myself off of my bed. I grumpily staggered out of my room, towards the dining room. I then looked straight into the lovely but rough eyes of my parents.

"Wilbur, honey, sit down please."
I yawned, pulling out a chair at the end of the dining room table and sitting down. I mumbled a good night to my parents and grabbed a fork. I watched as I twirled the fork, the noodles nicely surrounding the tines of the fork. The noodles were clearly nicely cooked. My mother always made great pasta. But I knew someone who could make better noodles...
I flushed.

"Wilbur." It was my father. His voice sounded strained. He was always tired, mainly because he worked a nine to five. He always fell asleep before I could see him. He never had time to eat with us. Something was different. Something was wrong. What was it? Was I in trouble?
"Wilbur, is... something wrong?"

"What do you mean, dad?"
"You've been... your mother tells me... You've been coming home late, looking tired and such."
I hiccuped, slightly choking on a noodle. My mother gasped.

"Wilbur! Are you okay lovely? Are the noodles not cooked thoroughly?"
"No mother, they are. It's just... I wasn't expecting such a question-"
"Love, we're worried about you! You have eye bags."
My mother frowned, as if the eye bags were a big deal. As if they were a huge scar across my face. Like I was deformed. But it was only a display of my hard work.
"Don't tell me you've gotten a next job! You'll get blisters on your hands." My mum muttered.
My dad butted in. "Wilbur will told you to leave it up to us."
"But I can't! You need my help."
"So you did get a next job!"
"Mum!"
I stood up, pushing my chair back with my thighs. I huffed, some of my hair falling in front of my eyes.
"You have to realise, I'm an senior in high school! I'm supposed to have job. I want to help out. I want to have a purpose."

"And you do have a purpose! You would make a wonderful lawyer, never getting your hands dirty..."

"Mum! Dad! I'm working at a café!"

There was a light pause. My mother looked shocked. Like heart attack shocked. Her mouth hung slightly open.
"W-ilbur... honey..."
"Wilbur, my son..."

They somehow looked like they were going to strangle me, but also hug me at the same time. My mum's eyes glossed over. She looked irritated. My jaw clenched. God. Of course she would cry. She would cry to tug at my heart strings.

I sighed. " Mum, dad. As I've said before, I now work at a café. I love my job. I work with... a close friend of mine. We've known each other for quite a long time."

"Ah. So this friend of yours convinced you to work."
"No! I wanted to work with him-"

"Who is this 'friend' of yours Wilbur? What is his name?"

"His name... his name is Alex. Alex Quackity."

. . .

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