Novice in Love | on hold

Nine

ELLIE

After my last class ends, I drive back to my apartment and prepare my things to return home for the weekend. Ever since I started living away from home, I made it a habit of visiting every over weekend to not only restock on food and to get my laundry done for free, but because my parents wanted to see me every once in a while. They didn't directly demand that I had to do it, but there were subtle hints thrown here and there that implied it was something to be expected. Typical Asian parent behavior to me. 

I swiftly pack up my clothes and toiletry pouch in a travel suitcase and place it beside my laundry bag by the front door. I go into the kitchen and take all the empty food storage containers that used to be filled with my parent's homemade dishes and stack them into a reusable bag. I double check my room to see if there's anything I may have forgotten and when I'm sure there isn't, I move all my things to the trunk of my car. Then I set off. 

The drive back takes almost an hour with the rush hour traffic, but I am already used to it. I think of it as an opportunity to have some me-time and raise the volume of the music I am playing through the speakers. I bounce my head to the beat of Pentagon's latest song, Dr. Bebe, that is playing and enjoy the moment. 

+++

I shut the front door behind me and set my suitcase and everything else in my hands down. The smell of my dad's delicious braised pork belly envelops me and I inhale it longingly. It's been a while since I've eaten it. I make my way over to the kitchen and greet my parents who are busy cooking dinner inside. "Made it just in time for dinner," I say gleefully in Chinese. I mostly spoke Chinese at home with my parents since they only knew some broken English.

My dad is stirring something in the pan over the stove but turns around at the sound of my voice. "Ellie, you're home. You can go wash up. Dinner is almost ready."

Before I can say anything, my mom adds, "You need to help set the table. Don't just wait to be fed. You're not a kid anymore." She gives me a brief glance from the chopping board and nods toward the kitchen rag. "Remember to wipe the table first."

I am again reminded of the strictness of my mom and the laid-back nature of my dad, two contrasting figures in my life. One played the bad cop and the other was almost always the good cop. As an only child, my mom inevitably sets high standards for me and expects a lot from me, putting much of her unfulfilled dreams onto my shoulders. It is quite a burden to carry, to be honest, and since they worked a lot when I was younger, I also don't have a close relationship with either parent. 

"Okay," I simply say, grabbing the rag and leaving the kitchen in case she starts a lecture. 

The dishes are ready when I finish wiping the dinner table, so I take them out to the dining room after I wash the rag. I scoop up rice from the rice cooker into three bowls and bring them out as well along with three sets of chopsticks. 

Once everything was all set, I took a seat on one side of the dining table and waited for my parents to sit. Only when they are both seated, I am allowed to start filling my bowl with food and begin eating. 

My parents chat about random things about their friends and work while I just eat quietly. I am not the type to volunteer information about my life, even to my parents, so I just prefer to listen. 

Just when I am starting to think I can get through one dinner without my mom questioning my life choices and nagging me to do certain things, she opens her mouth and directs a question at me. "Did you find a new job yet? Or internship?" She reminds me of my failed job interview earlier this week. "You have to hurry or there won't be any more open positions." 

I force myself to force down the mouthful of food in order to answer her. "It takes time. I am still searching. I have been busy with midterms coming up."

My mom shoots me an unconvinced look, but I don't say anything else. She'll just think of them as excuses anyway. 

"Can't you just let her enjoy her dinner?" my dad grumbles. "She just came back."

I feel glad to have him on my side, but I know too well what follows. 

"I am just concerned about her future." 

"Well, can't you wait until after she finishes eat? You'll give her indigestion with the kind of questions you're asking."

I stare down into my bowl uncomfortably. This always happens when my dad starts to defend me and I am caught in the middle, feeling like shit. They go on back and forth for a while before the room falls into a tense silence. 

+++

I am emotionally exhausted by the time I can escape to my room. I lean forward onto my desk and sigh inwardly. This is why I don't like coming home often. Lying on one side of my face, I unlock my phone and open the messaging app. I send a quick text to Jenna. [MY MOM STRESSES ME OUT UGH] 

My phone dings immediately with an incoming text. I assume it is Jenna replying back to me and open to read it, but the text didn't sound like her at all. [What happened?] It lacked her personality. There were no emojis or all caps like usual when she wanted to know what was up. 

I curse quietly. Please don't tell me I sent the text to the wrong person. I raise my eyes upward to check the contact and my heart stops when I see who's name it is. I jerk upright and rub my eyes to check if I am seeing it right. 

A/N: Who do you guys think Ellie sent the text to? Michael? Bryan?