The Marionette

Chapter Three- Happy Birthday

Chapter 3- Happy Birthday

I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion or being sick because I don't remember falling asleep at all. I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, the delicious mixed scents of food frying made my mouth pool with saliva . As I climbed from bed and trudged sleepily down the stairs, I saw bacon and scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, biscuit and gravy. That was a huge breakfast, one that my mother doesn't cook very often. Special occasions such as an Anniversary, Birthday, or a Holiday warrants a breakfast for a champion. Today was just an ordinary day. So, what was going on? Something must be wrong for my Mom to cook such a breakfast.

My brows pinched together in confusion as I watched my mother set plates and I couldn't take it any longer. I had to know.

"Mom... what are you doing? Why the big breakfast for? Did I miss an Anniversary I don't know about or something?"

She grinned wide as she laid her plate down and made her way over to me, wrapping me in her arms and squeezing me in a tight hug.

"There's the birthday girl! Eighteen today. Do you feel older? You must be starving, you slept in rather late? Come, sit. It's time to eat."

I had no words. I had no thoughts. I was still standing, processing her words as she began loading our plates with food. Was she high? Did she inhale too much gas while cooking on the stove? What the heck was going on!?

"What are you talking about? My birthday isn't for another two months, Mom." I frowned, "Are you smoking the wacky weed or doing something I don't know about?"

She laughed, "Oh, Cassy, you know me better than that. I do not "do" or advocate any sort of drugs in this house. And nice try, sweetie. We all deny our age sooner or later, but you are still young yet, you have no need to pretend to be anything other than eighteen-years-old. Enjoy being Eighteen while it lasts. Now, sit down and I'll pour you a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. I made all of your favorites. I even used your Granny's recipe for the biscuits and gravy."

She smiled happily as she went to the cabinet and grabbed my Nightmare Before Christmas coffee cup and proceeded to pour OJ into it. I rubbed my temples in utter confusion before basically falling into my seat like a block of lead. I don't understand how a month could have flown by and I don't remember any of it? A major tension head began to form right between my brows. The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I was becoming. This wasn't possible in real life. Stuff like this only happens in movies. And life was anything but a movie. Did I bang my head on the pavement and get a concussion which caused temporary Retrograde Amnesia?

As she placed my food in front of me, I locked eyes with her, concern etching my expression.

"Mom... This might sound really weird, but do you remember when Vladimir picked me up?"

Her brows crinkled in thought which caused a prominent wrinkle between her eyebrows to form. She looked really confused - which made me question whether that really happened or if it was possibly a dream.

"Vladimir Volkov?"

I sighed in relief. She knew who I was referring to. Okay, I'm not in the clear yet. I still need to figure out why I'm missing a whole two months.

"Yes. Do you remember getting onto me for wearing a short dress that showed my thighs and accentuated my breasts?"

She shook her head, "Sweetie, are you feeling okay?"

So it was a dream then?

"Did you and Dad give me tickets for his show? Or did I dream it all?"

She came closer and placed her palm on my forehead, checking to see if I was feverish. The more questions I asked, the more my headache began to grow into a full blown migraine.