Sight

Twenty Two.

I turned and walked into the kitchen, hoping, probing, and reaching out for something normal, even if that meant a basic lunch with my family.

The pendant still hung around my neck, the metal sickeningly cold against my skin, with shallow breaths, breaths so controlled I feared if I was getting any oxygen, I walked into the kitchen and was welcomed with smiles from my mother on the other side of the island, my father setting the table with plates and forks, placing mats in their respective positions, and Trevor sitting and swinging his legs, waiting patiently for his food as he hummed.

"Honey, get these for me please, and be careful." Mother asked, pulling and a little hesitant on giving me the bowls to carry out the task she assigned, but she knew, one day she'd have to.

I walked over to her and took the little soup bowls and walked over to our little, circular dining table set in the corner of the kitchen, it was near the large window which took the place of where a whole wall could've been, it calmingly looked over our little garden where mother planted tomatoes, chilies and other spices.

The afternoon dues rained into the room, the gentle rays illuminating the kitchen in the dew drops of whites and gold, the serenity of color, the colors of the heavens, the colors of peace, the colors of warmth.

I felt so at peace, so I smiled, I truly smiled and walked over to the table and placed the ceramic bowls dearly to the little saucers waiting to be completed with their set.

"Maria, sit." Father said, taking off his apron and hanging it aimlessly on the back of his chair. Mother quickly tossed some salad and walked over to us, I eyed the salad, "Where's the real food?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow, Mother rolled her eyes, "Pasta's in the oven." She smiled and I winked.

"After lunch, I need to redress your wrap, remember you need to make sure to keep it-"

"-disinfected." I finished for her, "I got it." I smiled and so did she, a sad one, but a smile all the best.

Just as mother sat down there was a knock on the door, a sign of frustration surpassed as an irritable sigh from mom, I chuckled, "I'll get it. You sit." I shook my head and mom got comfortable, "Careful!" She continued to nag and I showed her a 'thumbs up' sign from over my shoulder.

I walked out of the concrete cutout and over to the door. I opened the rickety, plain wooden door and, "Yes?" I said looking down to adjust my top, "Hello, Maria." He said and my head snapped up, then the vertigo kicked in.

He stepped forward and held onto my shoulder, "Are you alright?" He asked, his tone full of concern, I nodded, waving him off, "Yes, fine." I said, he took a step back.

I looked at him, accusingly for hardly ever coming to meet me and with happiness, the feeling of ecstasy on seeing him on the threshold of my home, "Hello, Alexander."  I smiled and he glowed, "Maria." He sighed and walked in, swooping me in his arms and pressing his lips against mine. I melted against him, I felt queasy, dizzy, I felt as though I might collapse, but this kind of feeling, with Alexander against me, I didn't mind.

"Ahem." I heard the clearing of a throat and just like that, the moment ended.

I spun around and dad stood there, his arms crossed, his chest taut, the veins in his arms and muscles bulging as he held his anger back with the calm and composed expression his face held.

"Dad, this is Alexander." I gestured to the boy next to me, and even then I felt my cheeks flame, red, purple, blue, golden, I didn't care, I knew I was on fire.

Alexander swerved around me and held his arm out to my dad, firm, strong.

"Sir, Alexander Xavier." He smiled, his tone bold and unwavering, I saw dad melt when he said 'Sir.'