Dragonflies

Opening Up - Part Two

~♡ SHAE ♡~

Three hours.

THREE HOURS.

I have been at my mother's house for three damn hours. I am disgustingly sweaty and far beyond ready to go back home, but I am not even halfway done with her laundry list of chores.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my mother. I appreciate everything she has done for me in my life and I don't take any of it for granted.

However, there exists a part of me that feels like she believes I am supposed to repay every paternal act she did. Mom likes to dangle "favors" over my head so that she is able to say "Do you know how much I have done for you, Shae?"

I very, extremely seldom ask Mom for help of any kind. She will take it upon herself to "help", but then I will hear about how she is always bailing me out of a situation I didn't ask for help with for years down the road.

I thought her list of chores couldn't possibly be that bad or take up much of my Saturday which is why I even agreed to do them today in the first place. All week I have looked forward to my days off to be able to lounge around in bed and hopefully get my nausea under control. Five mornings, mid-afternoons, and nighttime bouts of nausea have been more than enough for me.

"Not there, Shae! Damnit child!" Mom yells into the dining room from her cozy spot in the living room recliner.

I stop in my tracks in the adjoining room still holding a stack of decorative dishes. "Where do you want them then?"

Mom rolls her eyes. "You don't remember a damn thing I told you, do you? Or is your head just that damn hard?"

"I just-"

Breathe, Shae.

"I forgot. Sorry. Where did you say to put them again?"

Groaning, Mom drags her way out of her seat. My shoulders drop and I hang my head knowing that I was trying to avoid this exact situation.

When she enters the dining room, she grabs a small step ladder from behind her large decorative dish cabinet and places it against the wall beside of a closet door. Opening the door, she sets the ladder up so that I can climb to the top step.

"I said put those dishes in that box up in the top of the closet. I'm tired of looking at them."

As I approach the step ladder, I mumble "Then why not get rid of them instead of putting them in a closet?"

Well, that was dumb of me.

Mom, who only hears when she wants to, heard my grumbling. "Because, Smart-ass, I might want to look at them later on and I can't do that if they're gone, can I?"

I twist my mouth side to side but don't utter another word.. at least until I reach into the closet to place the dishes where Mom instructed and a pain shoots through my lower belly.

Pinching my pregnancy pudge between her fingers, Mom says "You sure are getting fat, Shae."

"Ouch!" I squall dropping the dishes in the box with a clatter.

"Don't break my damn dishes!"

I rub my belly with both hands. "Was that necessary, Mom?"

"Just pointing out how big you're getting. You'll never get a man if you keep getting fatter." She smacks my ass.

"Mom! Stop!" Panicked, I climb down from the ladder.

"Don't you want a husband? You should go on a diet."