Knightly in Shining Armor

Lourdes

         

"Of course, mom, I know," I laughed into the phone. "I haven't forgotten about dinner, I'll be there."

"Alright Lourdes. I'll let you return to whatever is more important than your poor mother," She teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Mama, I have a job. I can't exactly afford not to, I have rent to pay and I need to eat once in a while."

"I know," She chuckled. "I'll see you later. I love you"

"I love you, too," I ended the call and sighed. I looked in the mirror and tied up my hair. I smoothed out my black uniform and laced my shoes. I locked up my small apartment and headed to the stairway.

It was a cool day in October, and I was on my way to work. My mother had organized dinner with me for tonight to discuss some things with me. I checked my phone once, to make sure I didn't have an application for a roommate. I didn't. Of course.

I opened the door to Cafe Blanc and stepped into the back. I pulled on my apron and smoothed it out, settling down for a long Saturday at work.

I had lived in New York City my whole life. My parents moved here from London where they met in school. My mom moved from The Philippines, where she had lived her whole life, to New York when she was in her late teens. She then moved to London. My dad was born to a Mexican mother and a British father in London, where he lived his whole life. They both moved to New York after my sister and I started school.

I take after my mother with most of my looks, adopting her brunette hair and dark olive complexion. My freckles came from my father. And my hazel eyes are a beautiful blend of my father's green and my mother's deep brown ones.

My hair comes to my mid-back, and I'm an average height, which is fine with me. I have a defined figure, which I guess is a plus.

After a few hours at work, I brushed the flour off my apron and checked out of my shift.

I headed back up to the stairs to change and get ready to go to my parents' house. My mom lived with very strict parents in the Philippines. Due to her upbringing, she pressed dressing nice and good manners. Not to mention timeliness. Which tends to be hard for someone who's always late.

I got dressed and put on my makeup, grabbed my keys and sprinted to the car park.

I hopped in my shitty, second-hand Honda Civic, and began my commute. My parents lived in the exterior of New York City, near Emrys Enterprises' New York Center.

I pulled onto the street of my parents' apartment and parked. I took the elevator to the 6th floor and headed down the hallway to my parents' homey apartment. Already, I could smell the pork adobo from down the hall. I knocked on the door, exactly on time.

My father opened the door, a wide smile on his face. "Lourdes! Glad you could make it." He pulled me into a hug.

My father looked quite good for his age, not a single grey hair in sight. He was taller than me by several inches, and, as always, smelled like that sandalwood cologne my mom loves so much.

My mother appeared behind my father in the doorway with a spoon in her hand. "Cutting it close, huh?" She chided me before giving me a hug. She smelled like soy sauce and garlic from the adobo marinade. Her tiny figure held me tight with endearment.

"Hi, mama," I smiled as she released me.

"Hungry?" She asked, already dragging me to the table.

"Of course," I grinned, washing my hands in the kitchen before taking my seat.

Mama brought out the kawali she had been making the adobo in, as well as a pot of white rice. I waited for my father to serve himself and be ready to eat. He took the first bite, and my mother and I followed suit.