(Reader be warned, disturbing content, violent themes, and the utmost depravity of the human condition.)
My clothes changed, the house tidied, and no traces of my brothers cigarettes. I'm glad he lived so close still, it made it all the more convenient for me to keep up this secrecy.
In two minutes the dinner I had prepared would be finished. I had the table set and patiently waited for my mother to walk through the threshold of our home. She'd be proud. I know she would.
The door clicked and in walked my mother. She had her hair pinned up, her favorite button down shirt tucked neatly into her skirt. She looked pristine, just as she expected of all the things in her life.
When she walked in and saw the table she smiled lovingly at me. She came over, grabbed my cheeks and kissed me. It wasn't uncommon for her to kiss me, she'd been doing so since I was little. It was affectionate, nothing more. But today I was the first to step back.
Her face fell, almost crestfallen. She watched me all too closely so I explained that dinner would get cold. Relief flashed over her worried features and she giggled at me. She hung up her bag by the door, and quickly came back to sit at the table. Once she sat, she fell into her routine, one That would let me know whether or not I achieved perfection in tonight's dinner setup.
She brushed off her lap, unfolded a napkin and laid it across her lap. Then she began setting her index dinner between each eating utensil. She liked for that much space to be between each one. After she seemed satisfied with the ambiance, she took a dinner fork and pressed it into the pot roast meat. She pressed lightly, but just hard enough to see how well the meat was cooked. Another satisfied look, and she placed the bite into her mouth.
After testing each vegetable and her bite of meat, she looked incredibly satisfied. I knew she would be, I had the roast cooking for six hours on a low burn. Just the way she taught me. Ingredients washed and taken care of in the same fashion. I had remembered all her teachings about being a good cook.
"So how was your day sweetheart?" She asked. Then came the first lie of the night.
"It was fine mother."
"Huh" she mumbled under her breathe. That was the first sign something was off.
"What's wrong mother?"
She shook her head, wiping her lips with her napkin. Her lipstick traces left on the thin linen. She hesitated before saying, "it's just so long and miserable of a day in this heat. I missed you all day, but I'm glad you had a happy day."
Suddenly I realized my mistake. See, my mother was a very lonely person. Couldn't be helped, that's why she had to have her gentleman friends. At least that's the way she explained it. Her job at the post office was never enough for her, she worked hours behind a desk taking people's mail and filing it in the computer system. She was just unappreciated and lonely. I was her only friend and family.
It was important to her that she knew I missed her all day. So I smiled to mask my mistake.
"Of course I missed you, it's impossible not to."
She smiled sweetly, nodding her head in satisfaction. She remained quiet for the rest of the dinner, an oddity for her. He demeanor never changed from that of satisfaction. It was a temporary state of bliss Painted across her face. She was undeniably lovely when she was in this much of a good mood. Suddenly she perked up, as her eyes met mine.
