By the time I get home I've recovered my previous good mood; Lucas's shocked expression is indented into my brain and my comeback has me grinning. I walked away as the winner today and it felt great.
When I walk into the kitchen mom is putting a few dishes away. I empty the shopping bags and quickly put away her blue-inked items.
"Honey can you please prepare the salad for me?" She nearly begs. "I just need to finish off making the salad dressing and then I'll take over from you,"
"Sure, mom," I agree.
I take her salad bowl out of the cupboard and grab a chopping board. I take my time washing the lettuce before I break it apart and put it into the bowl. My concentration wanes as I begin chopping the tomatoes.
It feels as though everything has moved so quickly. I know logically that mom and Mark have been dating for a substantial amount of time, but I seriously regret not getting to know his children until now. Soon mom and Mark will be married, and I should have made the effort with Mark's children ages ago.
I'm looking forward to having other kids around. Sure I have friends, but it's been just mom and I for so long that sometimes I crave more company around the house, especially when mom's at work or when she's spending time with Mark.
But I'm also worried that it'll interfere with a routine I've become so use to. It sounds so selfish, but I've been mom's main priority for so many years that I'm afraid of that changing.
My thoughts are all over the place, and my feelings about this big change are scattered; I'm excited and scared.
My thoughts shatter as I feel a sharp pain in my finger and I gasp. Blood begins pouring out of my pointer finger and my eyes widen.
"Tarsha did you just cut yourself?" Mom asks worriedly from the other side of the kitchen. "Is it bad?"
"No, uh," I stutter before throwing out the few pieces of tomato I'd touched. "I don't think so,"
She comes over with a wet cloth and a bandaid and immediately starts dabbing it. "You're so clumsy," She scoffs, but she's grinning.
"I know," I huff, angry at myself for not concentrating on what I was doing. I blush at my rookie mistake; I'm usually so good in the kitchen, but I'm just so unfocused today.
A sudden memory resurfaces to the forefront of my mind and my blush deepens. It's one of mom and I walking in the streets of New York. We were there on a holiday and I could have only been around seven years old. I seen a beautiful woman rushing towards us carrying her wedding dress. The dress was barely covered by the protectant plastic, and I remember being so fascinated by it that I wasn't watching my steps. I tripped over raised concrete and my raspberry slurpie flew from my hands and spilt all over the lady and her wedding dress. I remember the lady screaming in agony, crying for her wedding dress that she was due to walk down the aisle in the very next day. Mom had to pay for her replacement dress and boy was she mad. Before I can help it a giggle slips out.
"What are you laughing at?" She raises her eyebrows. "Surely cutting your finger open is not something this generation finds amusing?"
"No, no," I laugh. "I was just remembering the wedding dress incident. Sheesh, mom, I really am a klutz,"
"Oh my God, who could forget that?" She shakes her head as she tries not to laugh. "She raged and ranted on about disrespectful children the whole time we were stuck with her during the remake of her dress,"
I laugh as we begin to clean up our messes. When everything is spotless I head out to the backyard to set up the outside dining table. I laid the cutlery and plates and cups before deciding to lock the pool gate. You never know with new siblings.
