Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t h r e e ≈

"It's nothing," she says offhandedly, always finding it peculiar on how well Karlo understood her. "Just couldn't sleep because of the babies. Wanted to be productive."

He rolls his eyes. "Even I couldn't get any shut eye until two because of those devil children. I'm going to be bunking downstairs with you after tonight if they keep that up."

Janice laughs, flickering chocolate batter at him, "yeah, no. See, dad got me the queen-sized bed just for me. Learn your place. Stick to your single, rascal."

Karlo sticks out his tongue, wiping the chocolate off his face. "That does it, I'm bringing my blanket and pillow after I'm done."

"I'm locking the door before you can."

"I'll climb in through the basement window!"

"Last time you did that, you almost broke your arm, you moron!" she says. "Now, move over. Aunt Maria might sit there."

Before she finishes that sentence, she groans. "Ugh, where are the high chairs for the little ones?"

Karlo swallows his gulp before raising his eyebrows at her. "Why're you so concerned? They'll probably get milk in a bottle or that mushy cereal on the floor. Relax. You didn't even eat anything yet."

Jane knows that her empty stomach would be greater without having to worry about upchucking the contents in it. "I think we have some downstairs in the closet, I'll be back."

"Jane, chill," Karlo calls after her, but she has already hurried down to get the toddler equipment (she remembered to turn off the stove this time).

After finding a couple beaten-up but still usable toddler certified chairs residing in the back of the closet, only then does she let out a sigh of calm. By the time she resurfaces, most of the family was lounging in the dining area. Unfortunately, that also included Aunt Maria.

Janice forces a smile, placing the high chairs next to where Uncle Shawn was sitting.

Uncle Shawn is a quiet man, who kept most to himself and followed whatever his wife told him, much to Janice's dismay, who found great importance in one's independence. "Good morning, everyone."

"Took you a while to get ready, huh, sweetheart?" Aunt Maria chides.

Karlo was about to correct her and tell his aunt that Janice was the person who actually cooked the meals (who else the aunt thought could've done it, only she knows), but Janice gave a subtle shake of her head to signify that he not jump in.

With her Aunt's judgmental look focused on her, Janice wondered if politely punching someone in the face was a great way to start a morning.

Probably because Aunt Maria had a dreadful — as unbiased as dreadful could get for her to say — afro (that her aunt probably decided to leave it instead of working the trouble), Janice just smirks.

While she had nothing against the beauty of the hair itself, Maria's did not have a beautiful halo in perfect formation nor did she have hair that was it soft to touch.

Instead, she had the kind that looks like a broom top in the morning, especially because she hardly took care of it.

Janice settles for a steady, unflinching gaze. "Not as long as it must've taken to get those luscious locks of your hair done."

Karlo, who is closest to the conversation, almost choked on his milk, and Janice muffles her laughs. She's saved by whatever fuming reply Maria said because her father, who was formerly absent, walks in.