The Perfect Moment

Chapter 3

I lifted my fork, taking another bite of the chicken. I looked out the window, watching the waves crashing against rocks. It was beautiful. From what I had seen of the small town so far, however, everything was beautiful. Dozens of girls wandered along the boardwalk aimlessly, their hair blowing in the wind. Eye-liner highlighted the assorted colored eyes, and a smile laid across each face. They were beautiful.

As I watched out the window, I could see boys surfing in the distance, and I can barely make out the lifeguard tower, complete with two shirtless men. Of course, they, too, were beautiful. Ally’s house had been beautiful, with flowers lined up along the front porch. An old swing hung loosely over the front porch, attached neatly to the overhang. It had been shown my room, which had a unique beach feel about it, as did most of the house. It had seemed to be a theme not only in Ally and Tom’s house, but the surrounding houses and stores. Seashells and starfish hung everywhere, resting on shelves, framed in small window boxes pressed against the pastel-colored walls.

Everything--and everyone—in this town was beautiful, and I couldn’t help but feel out of place.

"What do you think?" Ally asked, watching me enjoy my dinner.

"The chicken’s amazing,” I turned my attention back to her, nodding as I took another bite.

"Best in town," She smiled.

I glanced at Luke, who was sitting at the end of the table, one hand with his phone, scrolling through something, one hand lifting the fork to take another bite, his foot resting on the bottom of the wooden high chair, rocking it back and forth. The car seat sat atop, McKayla breathing softly, asleep.

We were sitting, two hours later, in The Yellow Room, a small beach-themed restaurant. It was cute, with a pale yellow covering the walls. It was my mother, and me, sitting next to each other, Ally across from me, with McKayla next to her. Luke sat on the end, his foot soothing the baby, his hands busy keeping him occupied.

"So," my mother spoke quietly, setting down her fork. It wasn’t much of a surprise to me that she had barely eaten half her meal. She hadn’t been eating much for a while now. Ally looked at me, obviously concerned with her health, surprised by the amount she had eaten. My mother spoke on, obvious to her sister’s concerns, "You said your name is Luke?"

Luke looked up, and slid his phone in the pocket of his hoodie. "Yes, Ma'am."

I saw the look of disapproval on her face. He smiled, but I could tell she already didn't like him. He had a tattoo on his wrist. I had noticed it shortly after we had gone inside. When he shifted McKayla, it peered out from his sleeve. My mother’s arm brushed against mine, and I looked over at her. Her eyes were fixed on what little you could see of it. There was that one, small, on his wrist, and a small one hidden next to his ear. I noticed it, but I wasn't sure she had.

"What grade are you in?"

"I graduated last year, Ma’am." His voice stayed level, and I watched curiously. If I was in his position, I’d feel unsettled by my mother’s judgmental tone. I was impressed with how calm and polite he was being. My mother was certainly intimidating, even when she knew you. When she was trying to find more out about you, it was easy to feel as if you were being questioned by the police involving a murder case. I had seen her do this to many of my friends from school, as well as neighbors, or other people we were friendly with around the area. I’d seen her do it with my father, in fact, but he wasn’t fazed by it in the slightest. I had suspected that she had done plenty of this in the beginning stages of their relationship. By the time I had came around to witness it, my father uncovered the fact I had recently: My mother’s bark was differently worse than her bite.