bioluminescence

amara

Chicago, Illinois, 1998.

It was a regular house, in a regular suburban neighbourhood. The clock read four o'clock in the afternoon and the sun was still shining down harshly.

The road was empty and silent until the girl arrived. The chains of her bike rattled and the gravel shifted as she rode fast, whooping with the thrill of the speed. She didn't stop until she reached her open garage where she dropped her bike and left it there without a second glance.

She ran into her house which smelt unusually like a bakery and a huge smile lit up on the six-year-old's face. "Mommy?"

There she was.

Amara Wright. Amara who loved the sun, the trees and her daughter. Amara who hated being called Mary for short. A name that did not at all suit her energetic, wild-flower personality. She was standing by the kitchen island, kneading the dough for whatever she was making. Both her hands were dusted with flour up to her elbow.

"'Ello bunny," she said, her face stretching into a grin.

The girl frowned at the goofy nickname but she was too excited to chide her mother about it, "what are you making mommy?" she asks standing on her tip toes to look over the counter but in vain. She was short for her age.

"Take a guess," Amara challenged her daughter.

"Brownies?" she asked, hopefully.

"Nu-uh. Try again!"

"Cake?"

"Nope," Amara popped the P.

"Cookies!"

"Yes!" Amara held her hand up for a high five which the girl promptly jumped up and slapped. Flour rained down on the girl's dark hair making her cackle loudly.

"Chocolate chip cookies too," Amara winked at her.

The girl made a sour face, "the old lady from church said that too but there were raisins in that cookie."

Amara laughed, "how dare she lie to my Franny!"

The little girl grumbled in agreement. The oven beeped three times, behind her mother and she turned around to take out the first batch.

"Don't eat them yet," Amara swatted the girl's eager hands away as she removed the tray and set it aside. "You'll burn your tongue."

While she waited, the girl occupied herself with her mother's growing tummy. She had been alarmed at how big her mother's stomach had suddenly become but Amara had explained to her that she was alright and that there was a baby growing inside her. The girl had been fascinated. And as she placed her hand on her mother's stomach and tried to feel her little brother's tiny kicks, it was evident that the interest had not left her.

The girl had asked Amara once if this baby would have a daddy. Amara had smiled and told her, no. It would be just them. She had tapped her daughter's nose with her finger. "But you know what? That's perfect. We're perfect. The three of us." And she'd tucked the blankets under the girl's chin and left the room, smiling. Content. Truly happy.

"So what did you guys do at camp today?" Amara asked as she placed the cooling cookies on a plate.

"We played the gut of war and Morgan and Kenny had a fight," she said laughing. "It was so fun."

Amara grinned at her mischievous daughter, "it's the tug of war, silly."

"Mommy when is the baby coming?" the girl asked as Amara walked back to the island to work on the second batch.