CHOOSING.

16. Whoa, what?!

"Hello," I called into the phone cautiously.k

"Hey," his gruff voice answered, as if he had just woken up.

"Um, how are you?" I heard my awkward voice ask. So much for my conversational skills.

"Oh, am good," Caleb on the other end said with a chuckle. "You do know you're horrible at small talk, don't you? I have a pretty good idea you did not call to ask how I am." He continued.

"I am genuinely interested in your well-being, you know being friends I have to care otherwise what kind of friend would I be? And my small talk is not that bad," I defended.

"Sure, whatever floats your boat, Soni," Caleb insisted.

"I need your opinion on something," I blurted out. I regretted almost immediately when I heard an amused laugh on the other end.

"See, that wasn't that hard after all," he said still laughing. "Anyways am here to help so ask away."

"You know when I told you about acting?" I asked hesitantly.

"That I do, and I remember you said you wouldn't follow through with your passion for it. Something to do with your parents not approving," he drawled out. "Wait, did you change your mind?"

"I don't know, that's why I am calling. I received a proposition to audition and I don't know if I should," I explained.

"Let me guess, you want me to make the choice for you," Caleb teased.

"What! No! I would never," I rushed out in defence.

"Hey, I know. Only, I cannot tell you what to choose. Do you want to give it a chance?" He asked all of a sudden.

"Yes, I have wanted this since forever and now am getting a chance and I don't know if I should take it. Actually, scratch that. I know I should take it but am scared of my parents' reaction to it." I said, adding a sigh for effect.

"You should tell them," he said quietly. "Much as it scares you, you have to face the situation. And maybe they won't take it that badly." The calm way he said all this made a new hope bud inside me. Maybe I had been over thinking after all. 

"Thank you," I whispered into the phone.

"You're welcome," he replied in an equally quiet voice. We stayed silent for several beats until he broke the silence, "talk later?" He asked.

"Yes, later." I conceded and reluctantly hung up.

I dragged myself out of bed and padded across the room into the bathroom to refresh. My eyes were quite swollen since I had been unable to sleep properly the previous night trying to come to a decision. After freshening up, I felt a tad bit better and I made my way to the kitchen humming a song under my breath. Since I was up earlier than everyone else, I might as well make breakfast. I set down to making a special breakfast, only partly planning to use it as a bribe. I knew I would need it. I made my father's favourite pancakes, baked my mother's best milk and butter cake and fried eggs just the way my brother liked them. I really needed them to be impressed by my effort with the bombshell I was about to drop on them.

"Mm I smell something nice," my sleepy brother announced as he trudged into the kitchen with his eyes barely open. On another day, this would have brought at least a smile to my face but  the nerves twisting into knots in my chest could only allow me a forced smile. As I went to pour him some tea, my hands were trembling so badly I thought I would drop the kettle. Thankfully, I did not, but only just. I stood my the kitchen counter wiping my sweaty hands on my apron as I watched Kiama dig into his breakfast.

"Why would you start breakfast without me," my father's voice asked at the doorway making me jump a foot or two in the air. My heartbeat rate rose to a number that should not have been possible and my stomach sunk to the floor. Hand in hand, my parents walked in to settle at the table. Their faces broke into appreciative smiles as they took in the feast set in front of them. Barely a minute later my father looked up at me narrowing his eyes, "not that am complaining, but why this elaborate breakfast? What is the occasion?" He asked. No amount of fidgeting eased the intensity of his stare and try as I might my mouth clumped shut and my throat dried up.

"Um, I- I need to tell you something," I suddenly sputtered out. Might as well get it done with. "I want to try out an acting audition," I said before my momentary courage evaporated. A beat, then another passed and my family just went on eating unfazed. I looked from one to another and apart from the mild signs of being in thought, they did not appear surprised.

"Good for you sis, might as well put your dramatics into good use," Kiama said right before he shoved cake into his mouth. "This are really good," he mumbled with a full mouth.

"Manners, Kiama." My mother reprimanded. Turning towards me she said, "it is about time, Soni. Go for it." You would have knocked me over with a straw of grass at that moment. What happened to my family?

"Dad?" I questioned.

"Soni, you're a big girl and you have been wanting to do this forever. No need to look so surprised, you are not that good at hiding your feelings," he chuckled. I felt so happy I wanted to jump up and down and howl into the sky. "And don't even think about screaming in my house," my dad said. My eyes widened in surprise at how he knew. I never got to ask him how he did since at that moment my phone started ringing in my room. I had forgotten to turn the volume down and I dashed off to pick it.

"Hey," I said cheerily.

"Hey," Ombachi's cold voice was like a slap on my face.

"Is everything okay?" I asked concerned.

"You never called back," his voice held no hurt, just a strong accusation. To some extent it made me feel guilty but to a bigger part it had me wary.

"Am sorry. I had so much in my plate that I forgot. I would still have called later..."

"Later?" He asked scornfully before giving out a bitter chuckle. "Is that all I get, a later?"

"Omachi I am sorry I did not call earlier. However, I don't see why you're so worked up about it. I would have still called," I reasoned.

"Okay. When you're done with all that stuff you have in your plate you will call," he said right before he hung up.

"Whoa, what?!" I exclaimed into the dead line. 'You can't win them all,' I thought to myself as I trudged back to the kitchen to finally have some breakfast. If only line was a bed of dethorned roses.