𝐷𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐸𝑦𝑒𝑠

48

My dad wants to stay the whole week.

See, Î wouldn't have a problem wîth that, Î know deep down that Î can put up wîth my mama for a whole week, Î've done ît for 17 out of my 24 years of lîfe.

Ît's my lovîe that Î'm exceedîngly worrîed about.

Ît's only been 3 days sînce my mama ambushed her for no reason and she says that she's alrîght but Î know her.

She's uncomfortable and rîghtfully so.

Every chance she gets, my mom stares her down.

Î almost jumped across the table last nîght at dinner, mama barely touched her food.

All she dîd was sît there wîth her chîn propped up în her hands and stared at my Tîara

Î hate watchîng that lîght leave her eyes.

Î fîrst notîced ît when we got back from our guys nîght out.

She told me nothîng happened but judgîng by how quîeter and quîeter she gets every day, Î can tell that somethîng dîd.

Rîght now, for înstance, she's doîng the dîshes.

"Good mornîng, handsome."
Was the last thîng she saîd to me.

That was 4 whole hours ago.

Î hate ît and Î don't want to address ît to my mama because Î know that she wîll just make me even more upset.

But ît's cloudîng my mînd, Î can't stop thînkîng about ît.

So Î waît untîl a dramatîc scene of her soap opera comes on before Î grab the remote and turn the tv off.

"Hey! Young man, you know better than to-"

"We need to talk."
Î say sternly.

"We sure do. Does thîs monkey have a specîal seat în the car? Does he have a leash? Does he make other people nervous when you go out?"
Pops looks up.

Puck grîns cheekîly, swîngîng from hîs elbow.
Î roll my eyes.

"Yes to all 3, pops."
Î grumble.

Mama folds her arms.

"Îf ît's about your lîttle gîrlfrîend then say what you have to say."
She says calmly.

"Okay."

Î take a deep breath.

"You...You really hurt her feelîngs, mama. You raîsed me to be a very kînd and frîendly man, Î just thînk ît's a lîttle feustratîng that you would hurt the only person that makes me truly feel specîal."
Î fold my arms behînd my back.

She doesn't blînk.

"Understood."

Î blînk.

A lot.

"Huh?"

"Me and your mother had a very long talk last nîght."
Pops wînks, tappîng Puck's lîttle head.

"Î...um."
Î tug at my collar.

Î'm a bît nervous, she never lets me talk.

"We agreed that Î...may have had some unshed anger that dîdn't need to be let out on that gîrl."
She forces a smîle.

Î narrow my eyes.