Oreo Ice Cream

Chapter 31| Can't get out of it

Everything's turned quieter than before.

Not the one lonely souls yearn for — instead, a stretched silence like someone was compelled to extend it.

Things haven't changed a bit, except for the songwriting part. Mum and I haven't had any proper conversation yet. Every time we talked, it looked like we were playing a one-word question game. No matter how badly I wanted things to be normal again, I couldn't think about that right now — that's the last thing I wanted to be concerned about. Yet somewhere, I felt this pathetic urge to tell Mum how things have started changing between Tris and me. Kissing a person for two days straight wasn't something anyone would brush off. 

The clattering of dishes echoed in the empty hallway. Mum was already home, putting the utensils in the dishwasher or making herself food. Something told me sometimes that it was okay to be a little proud of yourself for not having to depend on my mother for anything but money. Again, the world runs on money. 

Holding my breath and counting backward from ten, I rushed down the stairs. Mum needed to know this. Just because she secretly dated the wrong guys didn't mean I'd follow her path. It wasn't anything serious, though; we just had some things typical friends didn't do — a thin string of attraction and collided interests. But the cartwheels my heart was performing said otherwise. Even if I hid this today, I would fail the next day. After all, hiding and lying weren't my best friends.

The air was heavy with the rich aroma of herbs and spices. Mum was making something in the kitchen — something really delicious. She's always been a great cook; Dad used to compliment her cashew chicken and said how nothing could match its savory. Her hair was done in a messy bun atop her head, and her body was devoid of makeup or jewelry. An Elvis Presley song played on the vinyl as she hummed and swayed her hips to the tune. A stained apron was attached to her waist as she struggled to tighten it every now and then. Suddenly, I felt guilty watching her — as if everything happening with us turned wrong because of me.

"Lorrie." Her voice caught me off-guard. I looked up; she was smiling at me — her chocolate pupils twinkled unusually, and for a second, I could see gratefulness shadowing her whole face. 

"Hi." My voice croaked a bit. Clearing my throat, I reached for my bottle on the kitchen countertop before drinking water. I could see her watching me from the corner of my eye, and for the briefest moment, I could feel something beautiful throwing off her figure after ages. Something motherly.

"How was school?" She smiled and turned around, stirring the pasta sauce. Since the day I fought with her, she's been trying to make things seem alright. But sometimes, trouble comes by itself, no matter how hard you try to make things seem less problematic.

"Good." I capped the bottle and sat on the countertop, watching how the color of her bangs faded — a lighter shade of burnt orange.

"Uh," I pressed my lips, "you know what, I had this sudden realization," she turned to face me again with raised eyebrows, "of telling you about—uh—about changing things in my life. I thought to wait for a while before telling you this, but I guess—uh—I think it's good to let you–"

"You did the right thing, honey." She interrupted me and smiled. I was not you, Mum. Those who think youngsters understand or know nothing are wrong. It feels like you understand the world better than us due to the long period of your existence, but it's the opposite in reality. People seem to know better as they see the world changing, not when they stay for a long time. I highly disagreed with the fact that youngsters understood nothing.

"—know about everything that's going on now." I jumped off the countertop and rubbed my sweatpants. "Alright. Just hear me out, okay? No interruptions, questions or exclaimations, got it?" I said, glaring at her, in a dangerously low voice. Losing temper and nervousness usually came together for me. I expected her to lecture me on changing my behavior, but instead, she smirked and turned off the burner before sitting on the barstool to listen to me.