The Last 384 Hours

1

The air smelt like sugar and cinnamon. Surely this was supposed to make me feel better and encourage me to finish the remnants of the unpleasant liquid, but Dad's culinary skills just rejected him this time.

Dad's homemade orange juice was a sour, cutting glob of failure within the midst of my mouth. I was already contemplating whether I should ever accept a homemade beverage from him ever again.

Struggling to gulp the abominable fluid down my throat, I set my half full glass on the velvety marble island. Turning to my younger sister, whose glass was close to empty, I put on the friendliest lazy grin I could whip out. "Hey, Serena, want some orange juice?"

"Sure," she said skeptically, her big green eyes searching mine with wonder. I delightedly slid the glass to her side of the island and the lazy grin I'd mustered slowly vanished.

"Thanks for the orange juice, Dad," I remarked, hopping off the metal stool I was sitting on. I thoughtlessly rushed to the sink. If I didn't get to there fast enough to chug some water down my throat, I was going to puke or die of disgust.

Dad must've heard my fast-paced footsteps because he let out a sigh. "Rose, was it that bad?" I heard him mutter. I couldn't reply and there was no time to reach for a glass, I bent down and chugged the water down straight from the faucet.

Unladylike, I know. But Dad didn't seem to mind.

I took one last sip and closed the faucet, wiping the edges of my lips with the sleeve of my jacket. "Yep."

"Remind me to never accept raw oranges from our neighbour ever again," he announced, putting his hands up in forfeiture. I chuckled.

I'd warned him.

"Next time, just go to the store," I recommended, plopping down on the stool again.

He nodded slowly. "I guess that's much more ethical." He turned around again to pour more mixture into the pan.

The mixture sizzled on the surface of the pan and the readymade pancakes sent a wonderful, heavenly scent straight into my nostrils. My body seemed to be floating, taking me to a pancake paradise.

"When's Mommy coming back?" Serena chipped in, dragging me out of whatever trance I was in. Her large eyes curiously darted between Dad and I.

Too busy for us, I wanted to reply but I bit my tongue. Didn't want Dad giving me another lecture on respecting my mother and whatnot.

Dad turned around again and leaned on the counter, his eyes darkening a bit. "It's too soon to tell, honey. Judging by how much work her and her team have to do and how far away the site is, she's going to be gone for a long time."

Serena's shoulders slumped a bit. I didn't really get why Serena was even sad about it. Having our mother around was like suffocating. I was a little glad that her being an architectural engineer required her to be away from home, especially now that the site she was working on was out of town.

Dad's face lit up a little. "Don't worry about it too much, Serena. She'll be back before you know it." He forced a smile. But I could see another bit of his liveliness chipping away behind the green hues of his eyes.

A pang of guilt hit my chest but I didn't dwell too much on it. My mother was a mean person, and even though her being away hurt Dad, I was still glad that she wasn't around.

I didn't live with my parents anymore. I had a dorm that I shared with a girl named Izzy at Princeton University. Izzy was too loud for my liking and I was never really fond of sharing my sleeping space, but anything away from my mother would suffice. And I get it, Mother wasn't home all the time, but still; home had her scent, her pictures and her rules—even though Dad let us break some of them.