Ugly Woman Handsome Man

Frenemies

THEN

"Where did you go?"

My question caught mom by surprise. She practically jumped out of her skin. To her credit I had yelled my question.

"My friend got sick, dear. Coffee?"

"Yes!" I threw my bag on to the sofa and fell on it with a thump.

"How was your day?" she called from the kitchen.

Where can I start? It was not like I could tell her what Lallu did. But then I never kept anything from her. It was like I was at a crossroads. One road led to me telling mom who scolds Lallu who in turn takes it on me. The other road led me to not telling mom and Lallu finds my silence empowering and continues making my life hell. But if I solved my issues with her, I telling mom would not be of any help. And I fervently wanted our issues to be solved.

"It went well," I said finally, watching the fan twirl fast trying to fight against the heat, "Where were you yesterday?"

"I was with Shreya. Remember her? You used to go to her house for summer holidays."

"Yep, she was pretty cool."

Mom handed me coffee and sat beside me, "She wasn't feeling so great so she asked me to turn up. I took Bindu with me. Your dad was going to pick me up but he told me to stay the night and it was rare I get that chance. So I took it."

"You could have told me," I whined. At least I would have been forewarned that dad was coming alone. I would have pretended I was asleep.

"I lost track of time, baby but hey, you did not call me, either."

"Didn't have the time."

My mom's eyes razed over me to land on my forehead baseball.

"I can see that."

"This is nothing, just a bump. I am off for homework."

I had marauded my canvas from college, planning to finish the painting. I was so far behind. Everybody else had nearly finished the assignment. In my room, I set up my aisle and started working. Quick strokes here and a little carefully there and I got my mom's facial outline. She had a fine boned structure, high and nice to look at. Lallu had inherited them exactly.

The eyes went in next and I added the small crinkles that come from her laughter. It was soon ready and I tried my hardest to bring in that twinkle that made her eyes the prettiest. Her kind smile as she had looked down on me when I was thirteen was still in my eyes. In the past six years, she had done her best to take care of me. That I was broken down by my father in one day of absence of my mother showed how much she had taken me under her wing.

All in all, when the painting is done, I would show it to her so that she tells me she is not that pretty and that my love made her look so. Then I would tell her that well, I am damn ugly but you always say I am pretty. Then she would box me over my head and we would laugh together.

*

"Still painting?"

My mom poked her head through the door.

"Almost done. What time is it?"

"Seven thirty. You have been on it for two hours already."

"I want to finish it soon. Want to take a look?"

"Is it done?" she asked, stepping in.

"Almost."

She came in fully and I moved away so I could see her face as she looks at herself. She stopped short when she saw that I had drawn her.