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Eva sat in her kitchen on a wooden stool, homework sprawled about the white marble of the peninsula. She was humming a beat to a song she had just started to edit the music for when she hears keys jingle near her front door.
At first, she thought someone was breaking in, but who would have keys to her house beside herself? Her mother.
The same mother who also spent weeks in other states at a time for her job.
The same mother standing in front of her now, suitcase handle in hand.
"Oh—hi mom." Eva stumbles, fully turned to face her mom, who is wheeling the suitcase away from the front door.
God is this awkward or is that just me?
"Hi dear, sorry that the trip took so long, god—you wouldn't believe the men I have to deal with!" Her mother said, prying off her heels.
Just me. Okay.
Lisa Timog was a typical working mom. She went on business trips for long periods, made a lot of money, and was adamant about being apart of Eva's education.
Don't get her wrong, Eva loves her mom. Maybe it's the dead dad that made them bond or the way her mom was the most socialite 45 year old woman she knew, but Eva loved her mom like she loved a best friend.
It wasn't always like that though.
"Anywho," she starts, her New York accent pulling through with each vowel, "tell me about school. Is McKinley a good school? I could pull you out and transfer you to Carmel High—it's all little far, but they have a much better education system I've heard." She rambled, hands moving as she talked while still grabbing a drink for herself out of the fridge. The same fridge that is littered with report cards and children's drawings.
