Open My Eyes

{Ch. 2} Blindsided ✓

          I stalled at the front door. Working as an art museum curator required eight-hour days. And yet, it was two p.m., and rather than at work, Mom stood in the kitchen, bustling about.

"What are you doing here?"

Mom gave me a lopsided smile. "I live here, Angela."

I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop the smile. "Very informative, Mom. Thank you. Seriously though, why are you here?"

"I took a half-day." She shrugged. "Besides, it's my daughter's first day at her dream job. I want to get the scoop ASAP." She threw me into a bear hug.

Laughing, I hugged her back. "I have to breathe to tell you about it."

She let go and beamed at me. "Alright, tell me all about it. Tea?"

"Sure." I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, folding my arms on top. "Well, since it was the first day, there's not much to report. I'll be working in the speech and language pathology department."

As Mom put the kettle on the stovetop, she said, "Um, English please?"

I chuckled. "Basically, I'll be helping kids who can't speak well."

"Oh, that'll be fun!" She smiled at me, waiting for the water to boil.

My feet swung. "Everyone there is so cute and sweet. The woman who gave me a tour today, Taylor, was super nice. She's really pretty, too."

The kettle cried, and Mom pulled it off the stovetop. She poured the water into two mugs, both decorated with art painted by her kids. She gave me the mug I had painted years ago: a frog wearing a top hat with a rainbow lightning bolt in the background.

"Did you meet any other staff?" Mom inhaled the steam from her tea.

I smelled my tea. Chai, my favorite.

"I think?" An eyebrow quirked. "I dunno. It was weird. Whenever I asked if he was a volunteer or a worker there, he'd say 'something like that.' And I have no idea what that means."

"Maybe he has a family member there." Mom shrugged. After taking a sip of her drink, she grinned at me, a playful look in her eyes. "Was he cute?"

"Mom," I whined.

She chuckled. "Oh, come on. Was he cute?"

I pursed my lips and glanced down. I mumbled, "Maybe."

My ringtone played from inside my purse. I nearly choked on my tea as I jumped off the stool and raced to my bag. I whipped out my phone and hit 'answer.'

"Hey, short stack."

"Greetings, earthling!" I shouted, saluting. I waved to Mom, grabbed my mug of tea, and bounded up the stairs to my bedroom.

He laughed. "You're in a good mood. More than usual, I mean. What's up?"

With my feet, I pushed aside the jewelry kits and squares of fabric strewn haphazardly on the floor of my room. After setting my tea on my nightstand, I plopped on my bed, crisscross applesauce. I gave a dramatic gasp and demanded, "You mean you don't remember the thing I've only been taking about since forever?"

"Wait." He fell silent. A moment later: "Wait, you started working at H and M? That was today?"

"Yes!" I bounced on the bed.