A Break Apart

CHAPTER 3. Drama Queen

Sunray pierced through the thin line inbetween my window curtains. I squeezed my eyes, unwilling to get out of bed just yet, but I had planned to surprise Mum with breakfast, and so I reluctantly rolled out of the morning warmth of my comfy bed.

I had past my vanity with a step when I stopped, and then moved two steps backward, standing beside my phone whose signal had caught my attention. I picked up the phone and unlocked it, my face contorting in confusion to find four missed calls from an unknown number, and then I recalled the disturbing ringtone that I had ignored last night.

I got more curious and checked the time when the call came in.

1:26 AM

My eyes widened, but then I ignored it, assuming the caller had dialed a wrong number. I dropped the phone back on the vanity to attend to the kitchen duty that required more of my attention before Mum woke up.

I opened the fridge, holding a plastic bowl in one hand. One at a time, I picked out eggs and put in the bowl—onions, fresh peppers and tomatoes—like a grocery shopper in a supermarket. I then closed the fridge and proceeded to the island to start cooking.

I chopped the vegetables, turned on one of the gas burners and placed a frying pan on top. I added a little amount of olive oil in the pan and poured in the chopped veggies. While it cooked on a low heat, I broke the eggs in another bowl, whisked them and kept the mix aside. I grabbed the electric kettle from the counter, went to the sink, filled it up with water, went back to the counter and plugged it in one of the sockets aligning the backsplash.

Time seemed to be running out of my hands with all the tasks I was juggling, which included cleaning up and putting away used utensils as soon as I was done with them, as I cooked, just the way Mum loves it. I randomly sang to songs while I maneuvered around the kitchen, subtly moving my body to my natural DJ mix.

I poured the egg in the simmering sauce and gently stirred and wobbled with a spatula so it leaves a fine texture rather than sprinkles of white fluffs.

I jolted at the whistling of the kettle  and rushed over to the counter and turned it off. The sauce was ready by the time I got back to it, and I turned the burner off, too.

"Phew!" I mock wiped away imaginary drops of sweat from my forehead with my fingers. Although the kitchen smelled like Mum, I wasn't as calculative and neat and calm as her in the cooking process.

Holding the tray of food that I had plated, I fixed my eyes on the small round clock on the wall. Mum never joked with time when cooking. I grew up with a clock in our kitchen. Our first and previous home was never without one, and this particular clock was a new purchase. The time was eight fourty-five.

"Not bad," I smiled, proceeding out of the kitchen to the dinning area.

I dropped the tray on the table and made to fetch Mum for breakfast when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and then she appeared in sight.

I furrowed my eyebrows at her advancing figure until she met me at the table.

"You're going out? This early? And where to? What's the emergency?" I had expected to see her in her pyjamas and hair bonnet, but she was dressed in a casual Ankara dress that matched her red heels, and holding her favorite black handbag.

"Go and get changed. We're going out together. Good morning, sweetie."

"Huh?" My face twisted in confusion. "And good morning, ma. You should have mentioned it yesterday. Don't tell me I woke up this early to make breakfast for nothing." I gestured with both hands at the table. "And where are we even going? What's the important mission that can't wait?"