Underground | ongoing

Chapter 5 | King Of The Castle

"How was your day at school?"

"Same as usual, mom," I said. "Same as usual."

I shut the fridge and grabbed a spoon for my yoghurt. Mom had bought 30% fat ones that week. I hoped they tasted better than I remembered. The lemon one was traumatising so I could only pray that the strawberry was better.

"So, who was that boy you were talking to outside? Did he walk you home? Is he your boyfriend?"

"What? Mom, no!" I gasped. "He's a friend and no, he didn't walk me home. He was just on a run and I bumped into him. I haven't even got a boyfriend."

Mom continued to chop tomatoes, humming sarcastically, "yeah, I'm sure you haven't, Serena."

I sat on a stool up against the island and watched her work. Everyone said I looked like her and I didn't usually see her until I watched closely enough. Her auburn hair which she always tied up was where my redhead had come from and I had some of her facial features which always seemed youthful and unaging. In my opinion, my mom then looked just as she did twelve years ago when she use to pick me up from kindergarten.

"What are you making?" I asked.

"Pasta and tomatoes," she said. "It's a one bake recipe that was in my mother's cookbook. Have you seen it?"

She nodded to the book on the counter that gave off the impression that it was about to fall apart. I pulled it over to me. I had seen it a few times and heard mom talk of it to my dad many times, but I'd never bothered to look for the recipes. I knew that mom always made her chicken lazone and sweet potato fritters from this book (aswell as much else) and all of it was delightful (although my mom overcooked the potato fritters a bit too much for my taste), but I'd never bothered to glance at these recipes myself.

When I did, though, I realised just how straight forward most of them were. You may call me spoiled, but I never did take much interest in cooking, though my mother would often spend her days off in the kitchen. Unless it was a simple canned soup or last night's dinner to heat up, I used the microwave, so when it came to outside of Home Ec class, I had little to no experience.

"This sounds nice," I said honestly. "And, it smells it, too."

I could smell the mix of herbs rise as soon as my mother dropped the sliced tomatoes into the pan with the pasta, and even after she pushed it in the oven, the smell rose.

"Your father called while you were at school."

"Did he?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "How is he? What did he say?"

"Well, he was going to leave it as a surprise, but he's coming back on Friday, so I've planned a nice dinner for just the three of us."

"Really?" I gasped. I can only imagine the way my eyes lit up. "Oh, mom, I can't wait! I can't wait to see him again! What time does he get back?"

"I pick him up from the airport at six. I figured you could finish dinner while I go and get him and it'll be ready as soon as he gets back. You know how he hates eating during flights."

I took after him for that. Before a flight and during, my stomach literally churned at the thought of food, but as soon as I landed, I could eat my entire family out of house and home.

"That sounds like a plan!" I agreed. "Did he say how long he's back for?"

Mom shook her head. "I guess we could say indefinitely."