Muse

Chapter 8: Sugar and Superheroes...Wait, What?

I've been standing outside my front door for about 10 minutes. I know I have to go in, but not quite yet.

I just got my mother back. I don't want to lose her all over again so quickly. It hasn't even been 24 hours yet.

It feels like my heart went on a roller coaster without inviting my brain as I stare at the peeling paint around the door knob. It isn't fair that I don't have my mother all the time like everybody else. It's not fair that I have to smile while telling everyone where she is and endure their pitiful looks. It's not fair that I can't tell any of this to my mom because this is her job and what she loves. I can't take that away from her. Where would she even find a job with such good pay? My life isn't fair.

But no one's life is fair is it? It's not like she doesn't miss me as much as I her, if not more, while she's away. She doesn't ask to be shipped off away from her daughter. She can't choose where, for how long, or how long between trips.

She loves me, of course this is hard for her too.

And you know what, that might not be what she wants to talk about anyway. Yeah, she could just want my opinion on our winter break vacation spot, or how to handle her sister.

I cling to the sliver of hope I squeeze out of these thoughts as I take a deep breathe and open the door, stepping through. My legs are a little shaky and my left foot has fallen asleep. Why did I have to think about this standing up? Sitting's a perfectly reasonable alternative. And look! There's chair two feet next to the door!

I'll admit, I'm a little shaken from what I see.

The door opens up to the living/TV room directly in front of it. There's a little step that goes to the base floor of it. The couch is facing the left of you when you walk in and the TV's hanging on the wall it's facing. There's a long coffee table in-between them.

When I walk in, the sofa is overflowing with blankets and pillows. The TV is blasting the very suspenseful soundtrack to an Arrow fighting scene (we're a superhero show watching family), and the coffee table is covered in all my mom and I's favorite snacks – my popcorn with extra butter, her popcorn drizzled with dark chocolate, my peanut M&M's, her Twizzlers, my BBQ chips, her Crunchy Fajita Takis, and to much more to name.

I tentatively close the door behind me and make my way to the kitchen – which to my surprise is an absolute mess. There's flour all over the counters and coco powder on the floor. I count 3 metal bowls in the sink and 2 broken eggs by the fridge (also on the floor). (We're also a messy baker family).

Standing bent over in front of the oven is my mom who is pulling a pan of M&M brownies out and placing them on the counter, using her leg to close the oven door.

BTW – she doesn't look much better than the kitchen.

"Mom?" she jumps startled and turns to look at me. As soon as she does, that same goofy grin lights up her face and she runs' over engulfing me in another one of her loving hugs.

"Hey sweetie! I've been waiting for you," she says, letting go to look at my face. "I got all our favorite snacks and we, my dear, are going to binge watch the rest of season 5 of Arrow before you go to school tomorrow, so we better hurry if you want to get more than a couple hours of sleep in tonight," She concludes and laughs at the completely flabbergasted look on my face.

She runs' back over to the brownies and starts to cut them before turning to me and saying, "Don't look so surprised Devyn. They didn't have Netflix at the hotel I was staying in and I'm needin' me some Stephen Amell."

All I could do was blink. Breathe. Then blink again.

By the time I've come to my senses, my mom has already cut half the pan, put them on a tray, and carried it back to the living room. I follow her limply as she plops down on the couch and stuffs a brownie in her mouth, knowing it always makes my cringe-laugh. It works, but I only laugh half-heartedly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Have a seat," she says, reaching for her popcorn. I obey.

I can't sit through 5 minutes without reaching for the remote and hitting pause. I know I should just enjoy the moment, and the food, but I can't bring myself too. Not without answers.

My mom looks at me confused, like genuine confusion. Did she forget her text?

"Mom, what did you want to talk about?" Recognition crosses her face and she sets down her bowl of popcorn, rubbing her hands on her jeans.

"Devyn, it seriously concerns me that you're thinking of that text when you're favorite show is playing on the TV, staring one of the hottest male's alive and you're surrounded by junk food," she says to lighten the mood. When I don't so much as crack a smile, she sighs.

"Okay. . . Okay. Devyn, I wasn't thinking when I sent that text, I didn't want you to worry. But, I do want to enjoy this with you okay? Can we talk later?" When she sees my unconvinced look she adds, "please?"

I sigh. She obviously doesn't want to talk about it which means it must be pretty bad. The only logical thing to do is to push it to the back of my mind, stuff my face with junk food, and drool over Stephen Amell, at least for the next few hours. Right.

Let's hope so.

I nod and press play. My mother smiles and snuggles closer.

"I better not regret this." I think, and lose myself in the world of sugar and superheroes.

_______

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know I actually was taking like a week break from writing because I was kind of burnt out, but then I was like, I gotta give them something for New Years, and here we are.

I really hope you enjoyed and had an amazing New Years! As always, please vote, and comments are always welcome.

Until next time, 

        ~Your Friendly Neighborhood Bookworm ;)>