Outcasts

Chapter Twenty-Five (Milo)

The clock ticked by anxiously. For an odd reason, I couldn't stop staring at it. The little red line moved idly across the large numbers. Around and around the clock it went. Once. Twice. Three times. Ten. So many circles, that turned into spirals, and I lost count.

Within the span of a blink, the time became six o'clock. I sighed and looked at my hand that clutched the newest version of the IPhone in my hand. The screen showed a text message screen, the contact above read Mom. No new messages.

I sigh, Where is she? She usually texts me.

I shake my head and try to laugh it off, "She's probably busy working late."

But the problem is, she never works late.

I force myself to stand up on my shaking legs. "Get it together Milo," I say to myself. My eyes look around at my house. I see the living room, the kitchen, and the stairs that seem to lead to an alternate universe. My eyes land on the glistening clean pots that sit on a dish towel in the kitchen.

The clock on the wall reads six fifth-teen. Then I feel as if the play button is pressed.

"She'll be hungry." I lunge for a large pot. My hand wraps around the cool handle. Staring at it the metal pot, I remember the reality that was born with: I can't cook.

But I also remember, humans made Ramen Noodles for people like me.

Soon, I had made the pasta and scooped it evenly onto two plates. Next, I set the two plates onto the wooden table. Then, I wondered to the cabinet and reached for a fancy crystal glass.

I gazed at the cylinder glass and admired every edge, every crevice, and every color that appeared in bright light. Soon, I had already grabbed another fancy glass and filled them both with ice water.

As I set both glasses down on the table, I hear the clicks of my front door unlocking.

When I hear the door open I smile, and nearly shout, "Hey Mom!"

And then I see my mom form from the shadows, and step into the light. I see dark circles under her eyes, and her skin looks pale. In her eyes I see her trying to mask the fear and pure worry . "Hey Milo." She speaks flatly.

I don't let my smile falter, "I've made you dinner!"

And that is when my mother smiles, "That's wonderful. I'm so hungry I could eat anything."

"Even something made by me?"

Mother chuckles softly, knowing as well that I can't cook. She speaks, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Yes, even something made from you." Mother steps further into the light, and only then do I notice that her posture is sagged in fatigue. Her black beautiful hair is ruffled in many places. She takes a seat and sighs. "Thank you Milo, I've had a rough day, and this is just what I need."

I sit down next to her, and swallow anxiously. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh don't mind me, tell me about your day." Mother says with slight interest in her voice.

I shrugged, okay. "We'll it was strange actually, it was a great day."

"You're kidding." Mom speaks, with surprise filling her tone. But her eyes told a different story of worry. "How so?"

"Well, Jeah wasn't here today." I start.

Mother covers her worried demeanor with a smirk. "Oh, why does everything begin with Jeah?"

"Stop it Mom..." I say playfully. "So anyways, throughout the day, no Sye!"

My mom's smirk doesn't falter, "He must have been scared."