The Art of Pen Flirting (#LunaEast)

16

“Mom can we meet at MOA and have pancakes?” I asked through the phone while I am walking towards the jeepney station. The screen had a big crack but I can still use it.

I don’t know how I will deliver the news that I need a new one without the juicy details(because Mom will sure dig for one).

“Sweetie, pancakes at night is something. What happened?”

There's concern on her voice. I resisted the urge to cry. I kept my head down while walking, afraid that someone might recognize me in this state.

“I just want pancakes. I’m craving.” I lied.

“Okay, dear. I’m on my way.” I faked a smile, forgetting that she’s not seeing me.

“Catch yah later.”

I managed to look decent before mom and I settled on the pancake house. I started telling mom about how I hate my height like it’s the worst thing in the world. I just need to let out the anger and frustration. I can get it out of my system by using different words, by telling a different story while munching pancakes with whip cream and real strawberries in. My mom and I love this not so big deal pan cake place and we eat here often, any time of the day.

“I really don’t get why you hate your height, sweetie.”

“I don’t hate my height, Macy as the name doesn’t go with towering girls.” I said and took another mouthful. She sighed.

“Why? Explain.”

“Macy is a cutesy girl name. Not for tall women.” I said talking in full.

“Then what it should be?”

I scanned my brain for the list of tall people I know.

“Taylor, Lisa.”  I swallowed.

“Lisa,” she repeated.

“You should be happy, other girls would do anything for your height and figure,” she said, eyeing me from head to toe. I felt something lump my throat and grabbed a glass of water.

“You’re already a grown up and you still don’t have table manners. Take the pancakes easy!” she shouted while I am still coughing. I swallowed, coughed a little more, drank some water and breathed some good air before I spoke.

“Mom, can I have another round of pancakes?” I said. She just stared at me and I looked away. I made it clear that I am not listening to her, not today. Whatever sermon or motherly wisdom she's going to share tonight.

“Every bunch you eat goes to your height. Can’t you stop eating? You might grow like a building someday.”

I didn’t laugh, I know it was a joke, a lame joke. Also, I didn’t feel like laughing at any joke at all.

“Mom, eating is one of the simplest pleasures in the world. I am just enjoying life.” I said after swallowing another bolus of pancakes. She sighed in defeat.

“Honey, I am just watching your sugar level. You might be skinny but you also have to watch for your BP. Not all skinny are healthy.” she said. Now that’s really her, the sweet caring mother of mine. I really love her because she ordered another round for me, (yay!) while she got herself some sundae.

“How’s work?” I asked.

“Same old,”

“How about your client from yesterday?” I asked.

Because she’s an amazing woman, she had master’s degree, she had experience in counseling and right now, she’s a current Human Resources Head. She always talked Psych (because she’s a Psych major, duh) in front of me. At times, she’ll start talking about my life on how I should be searching for my identity because it’s my stage. That it’s okay to have boyfriends and make mistakes. I don’t know if she meant that having a boyfriend and mistakes come along.