What Makes Her Mikayla

4 - Of Politics And Champagne

"Mother, sorry" I breathed out as I stumbled into my room. She turned to me in obvious disapproval, if there was one thing my Mother disliked it was tardiness.

"Sit down, and stop standing there like a statue," She answered. "We have something to talk about,"

"We do?" I answered. This was new, if there was another thing my Mother disliked, it was talking to me about anything.

"Your Father's at work so he couldn't make it," She replied. Ah that's why she's here instead.

"So what are you here for? You never visit," I took care to add the cutting words at the end but she didn't even flinch.

"The doctor said you'll be discharged in a week and you can start going to school, I hope you've caught up and done all your assignments," She replied seriously, looking me in the eyes and it gave me the impression that she was looking for a weakness in my countenance.

"I have, is there anything else?" I replied coldly. She didn't reply for a few minutes, and glanced towards my book.

"Stop wasting your time on useless political books, I thought you were planning on being a doctor," She grimaced, and I laughed internally.

"You plan for me to become a doctor, and it's for my history assignment," I said.

Yet again it took her several minutes to reply and it got a little awkward at some point. I hated how pinched her face seemed to be because of how tightly she tied her bun, and she was always forgetting to eat and drink so her cheekbones were always so prominent and made her even more intimidating than she already was.

After what seemed like forever, she got up.

"Don't disappoint me Thomas," She said quietly as she passed by me and left. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, I guess that's what happens when you spend too long of a time with a witch.