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Capitolo Tre
The walk next door was the hardest odyssey I’ve ever done; I couldn’t face my mom or the crime she’d committed. Yes, I did tell Emma that she was crazy but deep down, I knew that my mom was capable of doing something so dirty; She was lonely and would sometimes spend nights out and come home hung over.
Ever since my dad left us for his hot bimbos, I learned to never put anyone on a pedestal, that way you won’t be surprised when they do something horrible. It disgusts me that both my parents can be such disloyal and treacherous people. Hopefully personality isn’t genetic.
I know that I’d never cheat on anyone. Especially not a woman whom I’ve been with for more than a decade; a woman who’s been there to support me, to love me at my best and my worst. One who loves me from top to bottom, inside and out, who would never purposely hurt me in any way – one like Mrs. Jones.
I opened the door knowing that my mom never kept it locked when she was home. She never believed danger could reach her home. I plodded to the small kitchen area and found her dusting an already pristine window and humming.
My mother’s a pretty 42 year old: Her pretty heart-shaped face, kind amber eyes and smiling cherry lips framed by brown pixie cut streaked with artificial golden highlights was glowing. She also wasn’t without style. That day, she wore a midnight blue ankle-length boho dress with a peacock feather pattern lining the bottom, simple. black strappy flip flops and peacock feathers that hung from her ears.
“Hey honey, how was school?” She uttered as breathless as if she just ran a marathon around Disney World.
“Great. I got an A on that paper I was working on.”
“Oh, that’s great hon! Wonderful! I knew you would!” She grinned at me. Her eyes landed on the plate of food I brought from Emma’s house. In one swift movement, she dove for the plate, unwrapped the foil and dug in.
“Wow! Valencia has really outdone herself today!” She said just like she said every day.
“Yup. You seem happy, what did you do today?”
I closely watched her as she flinched then automatically straightened her face. She looked me in the eye.
“Nothing interesting, I got off early at work so I went shopping. I bought you some clothes, they’re in the living room.”
Her eyes remained steady but her voice didn’t. She seemed to choke over her words as she said them.
“Is that it? Didn’t you see anyone?” I pushed.
“Well, of course I did honey. I saw many people like the mailman, my boss, the store clerks and many other people that aren’t really important.” She stuffed her mouth with more food.
“You mean like Emma’s dad?” I was tired of beating around the bush.
She looked at me startled, with a deer caught in headlights look. She chewed. Slowly. Mulling over my words.
“Yes, I did see Emma’s dad,” she replied cautiously, “how is Emma anyways? She doesn’t come over anymore. Why is that?”
I glared at her and shook my head at her weak attempt to change the subject.
“She’s been busy.”
“Well, I understand sweetie but she couldn’t be too busy to drop by and say ‘Hi’! What could she possibly be doing?”
“Oh you know, wondering how to tell her mom that her dad is cheating with my mother!” I accused. Again, she froze.
“Honey, I can explain.” She moved toward me.
I crossed my arms.
“Go ahead, explain mom. Explain how you could do exactly what Catherine did to us to Emma’s family!”
She flinched at the mention of my dad’s girlfriend.
“I love him.” She answered simply. “Can you throw this away please?” She gestured at the foil and the plastic plate. I raised my brow both at her way of trying to close the subject and her trash.
“What do you mean you love him?”
“I mean I love him. Now throw this away and go do your homework. I really don’t want to discuss my love life with my 17 year old son.” She said taking on an unfamiliar authoritative tone. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
“You’re starting to sound like my mother.”
She glared at me then her expression softened. Her toned arms pulled me in and hugged me, blocking my air ways. I gasped for air and she let me go.
“Oh, my little boy’s grown up so fast.”
I smiled sheepishly.
“Mom, it’s time for you to grow up too. You have to end everything with Mr. Jones.” I maintained eye contact trying to convince my stubborn mother. She looked away.
“I need to go to Walmart Dyl, we ran out of milk.”
“Mom, please.” I pleaded.
“Later Dylan, we’ll talk later.”
I nodded.
“Alright, later.”
She grabbed her keys and her bag and hurried out of the house. I opened the fridge hoping for some bacon. Not only did I find the bacon, but also three gallons of milk.
