Multiple Directions

1: Nothing's Easy

Living with the second most hated woman in the world, yet I have no choice. 

I really despised that woman.

"I'll be fine from here.."

"I'm here already, so I'll just send you up to your house."

"No really.."

"Oh come on, it's okay."

I stared at the two annoying adults standing in front of my house. "What are you doing here, Yolanda?"

She flinched and glanced behind her, pushing off the disgusting old man from her. "Yvette!"

"Um, Mr. Trey, meet my cousin. She's under my care for the moment." The old man bowed before me, muttering a 'nice to meet you' while awkwardly scratching his oily head.

"Nice to meet you too." I can't help shoot an accusing look at this man. He awkwardly looks between me and my mother, then dashes away.

I immediately went ahead inside the house, ignoring the fact my mother has yet another man chasing after her. Usually gross perverts who has the nerve to hit on my mother, in front of her house no less.

"Damn, that old man is persistent!"

I heard her say as I entered my room to drop my stuff before coming back outside to the kitchen, preparing to cook rice.

"Waiting for me outside the shop! He's disgusting!" She continued to ramble. "Yvette, please give me something light to eat."

I pressed the cook button on the rice cooker. "Also, where did you go at this time of the night?"

Glancing at her, I gave a 'hmph' sound, staring back at the rice cooker. About half an hour to cook. "None of your business."

She slumped down on one of the chairs in the dining room. "You're right," she said as she lighted her cigarette. 

Annoyed, I spoke unknowingly, "You know, you look like filth." I didn't know whether I meant it or not.

She owns a snack bar, and she was known there as "Mama." I live together with her as a "cousin." Of course, that wasn't true. She was actually the one who gave birth to me.

"Well, then, if you were born from filth, that makes you filthy too." She dared to smirk at me as she puffed out a smoke.

I got the rice ready after a while and placed on a bowl, then slammed the thing down in front of her. Fuming, I turned around, about to leave when she spoke, "You did that on purpose didn't you! What are you so on edge about?"

I stopped, hoping she didn't get it right.

"Ah! I know! You were rejected by a guy, weren't you?"

Unknowingly I snapped my neck towards her, "I'm going to bed!"

"Did I hit the nail on the head?" I heard her last words before I shut the door. It also annoyed me to no end that she could always read through me. Yeah yeah, I know that she's my mother and maybe that's why she could read me, but she has no freaking right to speak to me about it. I hate her as much as she hates me. No need to be a pretentious mom who needed to be concerned.

I plopped down my bed and thought of back then. A very long time ago, I asked my mother, just this once, who my father was. "What's papa like?" I asked. She gave me a blank look and thought for a very long time. 

She dropped tons of albums on a table in front of me, and I was puzzled as to why she gave me those. "What are these..?!"

"In these copies, one of these guys is your father."