Beneath The Surface

Is My Mom Seeing Someone?

I wake up with a weight in my chest, the kind that pulls me into the mattress and makes the thought of moving unbearable. But staying still doesn’t help either. So, I get up and start pacing the room, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor. I can’t shake this restless energy, like my body wants to scream but doesn’t know how.

By the time I’ve walked the same stretch of my room for the fifth time, I hear something. Voices. I stop mid-step, tilting my head toward the sound. It’s coming from Imani’s room. I inch closer, my curiosity taking over.

It’s her and Josh. Again. I don’t need to see her to know she’s on the phone—her voice carries that sharp edge she reserves just for him.

"Why can’t you just listen for once?" Imani snaps, her tone like a whip through the air.

"Maybe if you made any sense!" Josh fires back, his voice tinny but still loud enough for me to hear.

I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Another argument. Typical. I’m about to walk away when I hear Imani’s frustrated sigh, followed by muffled words I can’t make out. That’s my cue. I march over to her room and push the door open, not bothering to knock.

"Why are you still with him?" I blurt out, crossing my arms as I lean against the doorframe.

Imani freezes, her phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes dart to me, and she raises a finger—a silent "hold on." She mutters something into the phone and ends the call, her expression tight.

"Really, Samara?" she says, exasperated. "I was on the phone."

I shrug. "And I was just asking a question. Why are you still with that rude—"

"Not now," she cuts me off, her voice clipped.

I throw my hands up in frustration. "Fine, whatever." I stomp out of her room, muttering under my breath, "I don’t get it. I really don’t."

By the time I make it downstairs, my mom is already sitting at the table, sipping her tea. She glances up as I sit across from her, still fuming from my run-in with Imani.

"How are the trip preparations going?" she asks, her tone light and casual.

"Fine," I reply, even though they’re anything but.

She doesn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. She gets up, grabbing her purse off the counter. "I have to head out for a bit," she says, her phone buzzing in her hand. She glances at the screen and answers it as she heads for the door.

I watch her go, something in her tone catching my attention. She’s speaking low, almost whispering, and it piques my curiosity. But I shake it off. It’s probably nothing.

A few minutes later, Imani comes downstairs. She’s calm now, but I can still feel the tension rolling off her. I cross my arms, waiting for her to speak first.

"Before you start," she says, holding up a hand, "I know how you feel about Josh."

"And?" I prompt.

She sighs, sitting across from me. "Josh has a temper, okay? I know that. But he’s not a bad person. You don’t see the good sides of him."